“By St. John! he shall,” cried the squire, and ran down and opened the door, and then went back to bed, and she did also, though, God knows, much ashamed and dissatisfied.
When the good knight entered the chamber, he lighted a candle, and looked at the couple in bed and said;
“Good luck to you, mademoiselle, and to you also squire.”
“Many thanks, monseigneur,” said he.
But the damsel could not say a word, her heart was so full, for she felt certain that the knight had connived at the squire’s coming, and she felt so angry that she would not speak to him.
“Who showed you the way here, squire?” asked the knight.
“Your little mule, monseigneur,” said he. “I found it at the foot of the stairs, when I supped with you at the castle. It was there alone, and seemingly lost, so I asked it what it was waiting for, and it replied that it was waiting for its saddle-cloth and you. ‘To go where?’ I asked. ‘Where we usually go,’ replied the mule. ‘I am sure,’ said I, ‘that your master will not leave the house to-night, for he is going to bed, so take me where you usually go, I beg.’ It was content, so I mounted on it, and it brought me here, for which I give it thanks.”
“God reward the little beast that betrayed me,” said the good knight.
“Ah, you have fully deserved it, monseigneur,” said the damsel, when at last she was able to speak. “I know well that you have deceived me, but I wish you to know that it is not much to your honour. There was no need, if you would not come yourself, to send some one else surreptitiously. It was an evil day for me when first I saw you.”
“Morbleu! I never sent him,” he said; “but since he is here I will not drive him away. Besides there is enough for the two of us; is there not my friend?”