He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered,
"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows."
When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but made reply,
"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of life in him."
The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count, bearded, unkempt and foredone. The Soudan marked his melancholy case, so he said to them, "This man has not long to live; take him hence, and do your will on him."
The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to slay him. Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then spake the dame to the Soudan, "Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may."
"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it pleases me well."
The lady came to the Count. She took him apart, and bidding the Saracens fall back, she inquired of him whence he was.
"Lady, I am from the kingdom of France, of a county that men call Ponthieu."
When the lady heard this her bowels were moved. Earnestly she demanded his name and race.