for you, an it
suit me not? When there is no man in this land so rich, saving Count
Warren's self, who finding my oxen or my cows or my sheep in his pastures
or in his crops, would dare to chase them from it, for fear of having his
eyes put out. And why should I sing for you, an it suit me not?"

"So God help you, fair children, you will do so! And take ten sous which
I have here in a purse!"

"Sir, the pence will we take, but I will not sing to you, for I have
sworn it. But I will tell it to you, if you will."

"I' God's name!" said Aucassin; "I had liefer telling than nothing."

"Sir, we were here just now, between Prime and Tierce, and were eating
our bread at this spring, even as we are doing now. And a maiden came
here, the most beautiful thing in the world, so that we deemed it was a
fay, and all the wood lightened with her. And she gave us of what was
hers, so that we covenanted with her, if you came here, we would tell you
that you are to go a-hunting in this forest. There is a beast there
which, could you catch it, you would not give one of its limbs for five
hundred marks of silver, nor for any wealth. For the beast has such a
medicine that if you can catch it you will be cured of your hurt. Aye,
and within three days must you have caught it, and if you have not caught
it, never more will you see it. Now hunt it an you will, or an you will
leave it; for I have well acquitted myself towards her."

"Fair children," said Aucassin, "enough have you said; and God grant me
to find it!"

_Here they sing_.

Aucassin has word for word
Of his lithe-limbed lady heard;
Deep they pierced him to the quick;
From the herds he parted quick,
Struck into the greenwood thick.
Quickly stepped his gallant steed,
Bore him fairly off full speed.
Then he spake, three words he said:
"Nicolette, O lithe-limbed maid!
For your sake I thrid the glade!
Stag nor boar I now pursue,
But the sleuth I track for you!
Your bright eyes and body lithe,
Your sweet words and laughter blithe,
Wounded have my heart to death.
So God, the strong Father will,
I shall look upon you still,
Sister, sweet friend!"

_Here they speak and tell the story_.

Aucassin went through the forest this way and that way, and his good
steed carried him a great pace. Think not that the briars and thorns
spared him! Not a whit! Nay they tore his clothes so, that 'twere hard
work to have patched them together again; and the blood flowed from