So speaking, Duke Jocelyn rose, and with her hand fast in his, looked from her loveliness round about him, blithe of eye.
“My lords,” cried he, “behold my well-beloved, brave-hearted lady. Nobles of Brocelaunde, salute your Duchess Yolande.”
Hereupon was shout on shout of joyous acclaim, lost all at once in the sweet, glad clamour of bells pealing near and far; so, hand in hand, while the air thrilled with this merry riot, they crossed the wide courtyard, and she flushed 'neath the worship of his look and he thrilled to the close, warm pressure of her fingers—thus walked they betwixt the ranks of men-at-arms and glittering chivalry, yet saw them not.
But now Yolande was aware of Benedicta's arms about her and Benedicta's voice in her ear.
“Dear my Yolande, so True-love hath found thee at last since thou wert brave indeed and worthy. Come now and let me deck thee to thy bridal.”
“Lord Duke,” quoth Pertinax, “here methinks was notable, worthy wooing.”
“Aha!” quoth Mopsa the Witch, crackling her knuckle-bones. “Here, my children, is wooing that some fool shall strive to tell tale of some day, mayhap; but such love is beyond words and not to be told. Thus by cunning contrivement hath Mopsa the old Witch proved the true from the false, the gold from the dross; thou, my lady, hast proved thy love indeed, and thou, Lord Duke, may nevermore doubt such love. And now away and wed each other to love's fulfilment—hark where the bells do summon ye.”
And thus, as evening fell, they were wed within the great Minster of Canalise, and thereafter came they to the banqueting-hall with retinue of knights and nobles. Last of all strode Robin with his foresters, and as they marched he sang a song he had learned of Jocelyn, and these the words:
“What is love? 'Tis this, I say,
Flower that springeth in a day,
Ne'er to die or fade away,
Since True-love dieth never.
“Though youth alas! too soon shall wane,
Though friend prove false and effort vain,
True-love all changeless shall remain
The same to-day and ever.”