er then am I in this land, but in a land
that I love not, and a house that is big and stately, but nought lovely.
Then is a dim time again, and sithence a time not right clear; an evil
time, wherein I am older, wellnigh grown to womanhood. There are a many
folk about me, and they foul, and greedy, and hard; and my spirit is
fierce, and my body feeble; and I am set to tasks that I would not do, by
them that are unwiser than I; and smitten I am by them that are less
valiant than I; and I know lack, and stripes, and divers misery. But all
that is now become but a dim picture to me, save that amongst all these
unfriends is a friend to me; an old woman, who telleth me sweet tales of
other life, wherein all is high and goodly, or at the least valiant and
doughty, and she setteth hope in my heart and learneth me, and maketh me
to know much . . . O much . . . so that at last I am grown wise, and wise
to be mighty if I durst. Yet am I nought in this land all this while,
but, as meseemeth, in a great and a foul city."

"And then, as it were, I fall asleep; and in my sleep is nought, save
here and there a wild dream, somedeal lovely, somedeal hideous: but of
this dream is my Mistress a part, and the monster, withal, whose head
thou didst cleave to-day. But when I am awaken from it, then am I verily
in this land, and myself, as thou seest me to-day. And the first part of
my life here is this, that I am in the pillared ball yonder, half-clad
and with bound hands; and the Dwarf leadeth me to the Lady, and I hear
his horrible croak as he sayeth: 'Lady, will this one do?' and then the
sweet voice of the Lady saying: 'This one will do; thou shalt have thy
reward: now, set thou the token upon her.' Then I remember the Dwarf
dragging me away, and my heart sinking for fear of him: but for that time
he did me no more harm than the rivetting upon my leg this iron ring
which here thou seest."

"So from that time forward I have lived in this land, and been the thrall
of the Lady; and I remember my life here day by day, and no part of it
has fallen into the dimness of dreams. Thereof will I tell thee but
little: but this I will tell thee, that in spite of my past dreams, or it
may be because of them, I had not lost the wisdom which the old woman had
erst learned me, and for more wisdom I longed. Maybe this longing shall
now make both thee and me happy, but for the passing time it brought me
grief. For at first my Mistress was indeed wa