Joining her cries to dames' and damsels' moans and to the lamentations of her lords,—
“O Jaufry, Jaufry!” sobbed she wildly out, “frank, generous knight, all-powerful at arms, who then hath ta'en thy life? Some traitor-blow hath struck thee by surprise; for living man could ne'er have fairly won. O Jaufry! lone on earth, what good am I? Worthless is life, which keeps me far from thee. I pray for death, which comes not at my call. Where shall I seek this truant senseless death, which will not reunite me to my love? There 'neath yon water doth his body lie, which calls me, waits in vain.”
Then suddenly upspringing, lost, and mad with grief, she to the treach'rous water wildly flew; and 'twas by dint of strength they dragg'd her back. Then she her tresses tore, her lovely face, till in a swoon her woe and sense were numbed.
Good Augier had her carried to her tent, where on her couch the damsels laid her down; then he returned, and with the other knights around the fatal wave did weep and groan. Such were their tears, their mourning, and their cries, that the archbishop learnt the fatal news, and to console that doleful train proceeded to the mead.
With wisdom there he preached, and in his sermon said:
“My friends, the Scripture teacheth us that God is master of all things, and when He pleaseth can again resume those gifts He hath bestowed. If, then, Sir Jaufry hath been ta'en by Him, He, as His work, might freely call him back; and it were sin to find such judgment ill, and felony towards our Sovereign Lord. They among you who held this brave knight dear, should now to heaven pray he may be saved; and should at once give o'er these cries of woe, as vain rebuke towards your Heavenly King.”
CHAPTER X. THE GIANT.
While the archbishop preached beside the pond, Sir Jaufry found himself with those two dames in a delicious land. Valley and plain, water and shady grove, city and castle,—all was charming there.