“Lady,” quoth he, love gliding o'er his soul, “do with me what you will; for with no other arms than that rich robe, you would have vanquished me with greater ease than ten knights clad in mail. If, 'gainst my knowledge, I have caused you pain, wreak now your own revenge; and never 'gainst you shall uprise my sword, or lance or shield be used.”
Hearing him reason thus so courteously, the dame forgets her wrath. Love with his golden shaft hath pierced her heart, and now she pardons all. Those lips still bear a menace to the ear; but those sweet eyes belie't.
Grown bold, the knight, who still did on her gaze, begged her to grant a boon.
“Let me,” he said, “but slumber at my ease; then do what justice bids. Fear not that I shall hence seek means to fly; for, Heaven preserve me, you have somehow gained such power o'er my soul, that you alone are better guard than are ten hundred of your men with arms in hand.”
Fair Brunissende retired with a sigh, leaving for sole adieu a look so sweet, that, spite of his dull sense, it filled his heart with joy. Meantime the seneschal, whose care it was, bade the attendants then prepare a couch in middle of the hall: he there conducted Jaufry, and then asked his name and country.
“I'm of King Arthur's court,” quoth Dovon's son; “now prithee ask no more, but, in God's name, let me in quiet rest.”
Full armed as he then was, he laid him down, and sleep his eyelids closed. Not so fair Brunissende. Love in her chamber had renewed the assault, and banished sleep away; and thus she mused, until the city-watch gave forth the accustomed sound. At that trumpet's call, each in the castle and the city rose; and all at once gave loose to tears and groans. High dames and damsels, Brunissende in chief, clasping their hands in sign of deepest woe, beat their fair breasts and face; while the knights who guarded Jaufry made such dreadful din, it woke him up, and made him ask the cause.
All at the word rushed forward to the couch, and struck with lance and sword and iron mace. Well 'twas for him his hauberk was of proof; for the blows came just like to a storm of hail. Nor did they cease, thinking the knight was dead, until the doleful cries had died away. Then each resumed his post, and silence fell o'er all. Again, at mid of night, those cries uprose; but Jaufry, whom no sleep again had blessed, and whose cleared thoughts were fixed on Brunissende, took careful note to guard his curious tongue; holding his breath, he said within himself:
“Certes are these men no folk of flesh and blood, but demons hither sent to pester earth. With Heaven's help, to-morrow's blessed sun shan't light upon me here.”
Persuaded he was dead after that storm of blows, the knights relaxed their watch, and slumbered at their posts; Jaufry then seized the chance, and noiselessly uprose. With shield and lance in hand, he left the castle-halls on tip of toe; by good luck found his horse, and mounting quick, at fullest speed set out. Had he but dreamt the love fair Brunissende conceived, not all her men-at-arms would from Montbrun have chased him but with slaughter. Little deemed he, as hill and dale he crossed with breathless speed, she at that hour was in her fancy musing how she might make him hers.