Thus Timias dwelt alone, wasting his youth in selfish solitude, until one day, as he lay bemoaning himself, a turtle dove that had lately lost her mate happened to come that way. Seeing one so sad, she paused in her flight and began to mourn with Timias. She sat by his side and sang so pitiful and so human a ditty that the squire fancied he heard in it his own name; and as he listened, he shed many tears and beat his breast and tore his hair in his sadness.
Day by day the bird sat by him and sang; she showed no sign of fear and for guerdon of her song, he never failed to share with her his scanty meal.
Timias grew to regard her as a companion, and one day when looking at some mementoes given him by Belphœbe, he chose out a ruby, shaped like a heart, and bound it on the dove's neck. He expected to find some pleasure in gazing at it as he lay and listened to her song, but suddenly the dove finding herself thus decked flew away. Timias was now more sad than ever, for he had lost both the jewel which Belphœbe had given him and his companion.
Meantime the bird flew right through the forest until she came where Belphœbe rested after the chase. There she alighted and straightway began her mournful ditty, hoping thus to attract the maiden's attention. She succeeded, and after watching her for some time Belphœbe noticed on the dove's neck the well-known jewel. Rising hastily she attempted to grasp it, but the dove flew out of her reach, and when she saw that Belphœbe followed, lingered until the maid was near, when she again flew a little way forward, and thus flying and resting lured her far into the forest. They at length arrived near to the abode of Timias, when the dove flew straight into his hand. There she began a most piteous plaint, as if to force Belphœbe to understand who this was. The maiden, however, although sorry for this wretched-looking man, and wishful to do him any good she could did not recognize him. But Timias knew her: he said nothing, but fell humbly at her feet, and kissing the ground on which she trod, washed it with his tears and looked at her with wistful looks. She did not understand him, but wondered at his courtly manners, and pitying his misery, asked him whether heaven or the cruelty of man or his own wilfulness were its cause. When she ended speaking Timias broke his long silence and with it his vow, and replying that his suffering arose from all three, added that she herself had done the wrong.
He went on to pray her forgiveness and the sad words touched Belphœbe's proud heart when she found that it was Timias who thus addressed her.
Relenting from her severity she received him into favour again. For a long time he lived happily in the forest ever attending Belphœbe and forgetting the Prince, his rightful lord, who still sought for his lost squire.
By-and-bye men grew envious of the high distinction Timias received from the great Belphœbe, and said unjust and malicious things of him, but he behaved wisely and continued in her favour.
There were three men more anxious than any others for the overthrow of Timias. These were Despetto, Decetto, and Defetto. They tried all sorts of mean tricks by which to work his ruin, but in vain.
At length they resolved to send the Blattant Beast to destroy him. This was a horrid monster, treacherous and cruel, given to turn suddenly on its pursuer, and bite with poisonous fangs.
On a day when Timias was hunting, these bad men sent the Beast into the forest, hoping that he would give it chase and so be led to destruction. Just as they expected, Timias charged the monster as soon as he saw it, and with such fury that the Beast turned and fled. As it turned it bit him; he, however, paid no attention to the wound, but hotly pursued the Beast, which led him into thick woods and rough places full of briers, and thus wore out his strength until it had him in a woody glade where his three foes lay concealed.