I slept but poorly that night and a fierce fever consumed me. In the morning she was much distressed and vowed again I should not be moved. Shortly there came another knock and a voice saying:
“You little vixen! What matter if he die of a fever or be hanged?”
“Hanged he may be,” she replied, “and you will, but he must come to his trial well. And you do force him to it I shall have your own head sooner or later, and that I vow!”
“I warn you the King shall hear of this!” he said.
“Let him,” she said, “and let him do his worst. I have cared for many wounded, and I have yet to ask whether they be rich or poor, or of high or low degree.”
’Tis said the Count was in awe of his Countess and of her niece, my nurse. However this may be I know not. I do know that I was not more disturbed that day.
On the morrow I was still feverish having passed but a poor night. In the morning she visited me again, saying: “Fair Sir, I see but one way by which I may save you from that murderer at the Castle. He is my uncle, and were you but husband of mine he dare not touch you. Have you a mind to wed?”
Verily, this I had not thought of, but the thought left me warm and not cold. And yet I must hesitate for her sake. I dare not lest she regret. So I said:
“Truly, my Lady, the honor you speak of is far beyond my just deserts. Did I think you truly willing I should hurry on the match. But should you regret, nothing would be left for me but death. Let me therefore die the death at the hand of this dread Count rather than you should grant so great a boon and then repent.”
“Say no more,” said she. “I have said you shall not be harmed, and by God’s word no harm shall befall you.” So saying, without more ado, she sent for the priest who said mass and married us.