ome years and some very unmanly shilly-shallyings, he puts her away,
and marries another, with whom (one is feebly glad to find) he is no
more lucky, but who has herself the luck to die after some years.
Meanwhile, King Florus being left "in a cool barge for future use," the
second item, a really interesting story, is, with some intervals,
carried on. A Count of high rank and great possessions has an only
daughter, whom, after experience of the valour and general worthiness of
one of his vassals of no great "having," he bestows on this knight,
Robert, the pair being really in love with each other. But another
vassal knight of greater wealth, Raoul, plots with one of the wicked old
women who abound in these stories, and engages Robert in a rash wager of
all his possessions, that during one of those pilgrimages to "St.
James," which come in so handy, and are generally so unreasonable, he
will dishonour the lady. He fails, but, in a manner not distantly
related to the Imogen-Iachimo scene, acquires what seems to be damning
acquaintance with the young Countess's person-marks. Robert and Jehane
are actually married; but the felon knight immediately afterwards brings
his charge, and Robert pays his debt, and flies, a ruined man, from, as
he thinks, his faithless wife, though he takes no vengeance on her.
Jehane disguises herself as a man, joins him on his journey, supports
him with her own means for a time, and enters into partnership with him
in merchandise at Marseilles, he remaining ignorant of her sex and
relation to him. At last things come right: the felon knight is forced
in single combat (a long and good one) to acknowledge his lie and give
up his plunder, and the excellent but somewhat obtuse Robert recovers
his wife as well. A good end if ever there was one, and not a badly told
tale in parts. But, from some utterly mistaken idea of craftsmanship,
the teller must needs kill Robert for no earthly reason, except in order
that Jehane may become the third wife of Florus and bear him children. A
more disastrous "sixth act" has seldom been imagined; for most readers
will have forgotten all about Florus, who has had neither art nor part
in the main story; few can care whether the King has children or not;
and still fewer can be other than disgusted at the notion of Jehane,
brave, loving, and clever, being, as a widow, made a mere child-bearing
machine to an oldish and rather contemptible second husband. But, once
more, the m