But Prosper with a cry called out, "Isoult, Isoult, now tell me the truth. Dost thou deserve this death?"
She sighed, and smiled rather pitifully as she said—
"I cannot tell, lord; but I desire it."
"Dost thou desire death, child?" cried he, "and is this why thou art called La Desirous?"
"I desire to be what I am not, my lord, and to have that which I have never had," she answered, and her lip trembled.
"And what is that which you are not, Isoult?"
She answered him "Clean."
"And what is that which you have never had, my child?"
"Peace," said Isoult, and wept bitterly.
Then Prosper crossed himself very devoutly, and covered his face while he prayed to his saint. When he had done he said, "Cease crying, Isoult, and tell me the truth, by God and His Christ, and Saint Mary, and by the face of the sky. Art thou such a one as I would wed if love were to grow between me and thee, or art thou other?"