"Dwell ye with me, sir knights, and I will give my daughter to your lord, because of the wisdom men report of him, and you, for your own part, shall be made rich in silver, in gold and in lands."
They rejoiced greatly at his word, and the wedding feast was celebrated with marvellous joy. But when they had tarried in that place for one year and six months, Amis called together his ten companions and spake to them.
"We are recreant, inasmuch as we have forgotten all this while to seek for Amile."
So he left two men-at-arms, together with his precious cup, and set forth towards Paris.
Now for the space of nearly two years Amile had sought for Amis without pause or rest. Drawing near to Paris he lighted upon a pilgrim and asked of him if perchance he knew aught of Amis, whom evil men had hunted from his lands. The palmer said "Nay," wherefore Amile divested himself of his cloak, and gave it to the pilgrim, saying—
"Pray thou to our Lord and His saints for me that they give me grace to meet Amis, my friend."
So he saluted the pilgrim, and went his way to Paris, seeking in every place for news of Amis his friend, and finding none. But the pilgrim, passing swiftly upon his road, came upon Amis about the hour of vespers, and they saluted each the other. Then Amis inquired of the palmer whether he had seen or heard, in any land or realm, aught of Amile, the son of the Count of Alverne.
"What manner of man art thou," answered the palmer all astonied, "that thou makest mock of a pilgrim? Thou seemest to me that very Amile who but this morn sought of me if I had seen Amis, his friend. I know not for what reason thou hast changed thine apparel, thy company, thy horses and thy arms, nor why thou askest of me the same question thou didst require at nine hours of the morn when thou gavest me this cloak."
"Be not angry with me," said Amis, "for I am not the man you deem; but I am Amis who searches for his friend Amile."