“Oh, mother,” answered the girl, “I seemed to myself like the Greek boy of old who saw his own face in the fountain and perished miserably.”
“Nay,” cried the nurse, “he was but the lover of a shadow, and rightly faded into a flower. But of this image which you saw, there is, be sure, a substance somewhere, and there are arts by which it may be found. And now, dear child, let me give you my counsel. If you can banish this thought from your mind till the convenient time be come, then do so. If it is too strong for you, then I vow and promise that, by one means or another, I will find this very knight whose image you beheld.”
The maid was somewhat encouraged by these words, and slept awhile. But on the morrow, and as the days went by, the old trouble came again, and Glaucé, seeing that neither words nor prayers, nor strange spells of the magic art, for such she tried, were of any avail, judged that some other remedy must needs be found. What this remedy might be she long doubted in herself. At last it seemed to her that he who had made the mirror, that is to say, the wise magician Merlin, might tell her in what land the knight of the image might dwell, for though he dwelt in farthest Ind, yet find him she would. Forthwith these two, that is to say, Glaucé and the maiden Britomart, disguised themselves in mean attire, that no one might learn their purpose, and betook themselves to Maridunum, where, in a cave which he had hollowed out for himself beneath the earth, so as to escape from the curious eyes of men, Merlin had his abode. When they were come to the place they stood awhile without, in doubt and fear, whether they had done well in making so bold a venture.
At last the maid, moved by love, which is ever bold, led the way, and Glaucé following, they stood within the cave. There they found the magician busy on some wonderful work, for he was writing strange characters on the ground, the spells by which he bound the spirits of the earth to his service. He was not one whit moved at their coming, of which, indeed, he was aware beforehand, for indeed by his art he knew the secret thoughts of others. Nevertheless he made as though he knew not their errand, saying: “Tell me now on what business you are come?”
Then Glaucé answered: “Blame us not, kind sir, that we have thus disturbed you in your solitude, coming thus unbidden, but the need was great.”
“Speak on,” said Merlin.
Then she began: “Three months have passed since this maiden here began to sicken of some strange disease. What it is, and whence it began, I know not; only this I know, that unless you can find some remedy she must shortly die.”
The magician smiled at her woman’s craft, knowing well that she had in her heart that which she would not tell. “Madam,” he said, “I take it from what you say that this damsel has more need of the physician’s art than of any skill of mine. They who may find a remedy for their trouble elsewhere, do ill to have recourse to the magic art.”
The old dame was not a little disturbed by these words, but yet was loath to show her true purpose. “Sir,” she said, “the trouble has taken too strong a hold on this maiden’s life that the physician’s art could work a cure. I fear me much that some bad spell has been cast upon her. Some witch or evil spirit has done this thing; therefore it is that we seek your help.”
When he heard these words Merlin could no more contain himself, but laughed aloud. “Glaucé,” he said, “what avails this pretence by which you seek to hide your purpose? And you, fair Britomart, why have you thus disguised yourself in mean attire, as the sun hides himself behind a cloud? You have come, by the ordering of Fate, to the very place where you shall find the help which you need.” The maiden, hearing her name so called, blushed a rosy red; but the nurse, not one whit dismayed, but rather taking heart at Merlin’s words, said: