Jaufry and Brunissende the fair alone nor ate nor oped their lips. The lady glanced at Jaufry with a sigh, and each sweet glance shot through his softened eyes and fell into his heart; while Jaufry, on his side, at every moment blushed, and through the very marrow of his bones by dart invisible did feel that he was pierced. Musing of love, the live-long night they watched till rosy morning came. In her chamber the fair lady, and Jaufry on his gorgeous couch, thought but of the gentle speeches they would make the morrow mom; and, when once the sun had risen, they were up and quickly clad; and when mass at length was over, side by side they sat them down in the great hall of the castle, where they oped their swelling hearts.
'Twas Brunissende who first the silence broke; for, dazzled by her beauty, Jaufry lost in gazing on her face the pretty speeches he had framed o'ernight.
“My lord,” she said, in voice of sweetest tone, “your coming brings us joy and happiness; no service could be higher than the one you've rendered us; and bless we good King Arthur in his knight, bless we the land which claims so brave a man, and—bless we too the lady for whose sake such noble acts are done.”
“Alas,” sighed Jaufry, at this latter phrase, “no lady cares for me.”
“You speak in jest,” said then fair Brunissende; “your sense and valour raise you up too high for noble lady not to care for you.”
“I care perhaps for her; not she for me.”
“Knows she at least of this your love for her?”
“I cannot say, fair lady, if she guess; but I ne'er told my love.”
“No blame can then at least alight on her: if you ne'er seek where lies the remedy of that same evil whereof you complain, who is in the wrong?”
“'Tis I, sweet lady, I. Her greatness curbs me, fills me with strange fears; I cannot ask her love, for ne'er an emperor who trod this earth but by that love were honoured;—such is the height, above all other dames, to which she's raised by sovereign grace and wealth.”