"But mine," said Britomart, "is like no other; for it, reason can find no remedy."
"Nevertheless," replied Glaucé, "love can mount higher than reason, and has oft done wondrous things."
"But," urged the poor princess, "not even love can do that which is not possible to be done."
"Things often seem impossible," said Glaucé, "before they are attempted."
Then Britomart broke out bitterly—"These idle words," she said, "do me no good; mine is no common grief, but, since you will know it, I shall no longer conceal my crime, if crime it be. Neither for prince nor peer is my heart pained, but only for the image and semblance of a knight, aye, and the semblance of one I have not even seen."
So saying, she related to Glaucé the adventure of the magic mirror, and added that the image haunted her so that she almost longed for death itself.
"Daughter," replied Glaucé, "why be so dismayed? Thy love hath a strange beginning, but there is nothing to be ashamed of in it, joy therefore have thou, and eternal bliss;" and stooping over the maiden she kissed her tenderly.
"Ah! nurse," said the Princess, "what you say comforts me but little; for what good is it although my love be worthy if it be fixed on nothing more than a shadow?"
"Nay," said Glaucé, "there never was a shadow that had not a substance, and one which could not by some means be discovered. Still, if thou can'st conquer this evil before it grows more powerful, yield thee not, but if it prove too great for thee, I promise that the beloved knight shall be found."
Cheered by her words, Britomart laid herself down to sleep. Glaucé covered her with tender care, and by-and-bye the damsel slept. Well pleased, the nurse darkened the light of the rude oil lamp and sat down to watch her charge, and as she watched, tears fell from her aged eyes. When morning dawned Glaucé roused Britomart, and together they went to the church to pray. But even there Britomart could not command her thoughts—nor for that matter could Glaucé—and as soon as they returned home the old melancholy came back upon the Princess. When Glaucé perceived this she called Britomart into her own bower, and there tried the effect of spells much resorted to in those old fairy days. But the spells were of no avail, and Britomart grew worse, and became so thin and pale that Glaucé was well nigh in despair. At length it occurred to her that it might be wise to consult Merlin, the great magician. She therefore disguised herself and the Princess, and set out.