Then she reddened sorely, and said: “I knew not that aught of me had such beauty as thou didst bewail.”
And she wept for joy. Then she looked on him and smiled, and said: “Wilt thou have the very truth of it? I went close up to thee, and stood there hidden by the bushes and the night. And amidst thy bewailing, I knew that thou wouldst soon fall asleep, and in sooth I out-waked thee.”
Then was she silent again; and he spake not, but looked on her shyly; and she said, reddening yet more: “Furthermore, I must needs tell thee that I feared to go to thee in the dark night, and my heart so yearning towards thee.”
And she hung her head adown; but he said: “Is it so indeed, that thou fearest me? Then doth that make me afraid—afraid of thy nay-say. For I was going to entreat thee, and say to thee: Beloved, we have now gone through many troubles; let us now take a good reward at once, and wed together, here amidst this sweet and pleasant house of the mountains, ere we go further on our way; if indeed we go further at all. For where shall we find any place sweeter or happier than this?”
But she sprang up to her feet, and stood there trembling before him, because of her love; and she said: “Beloved, I have deemed that it were good for us to go seek mankind as they live in the world, and to live amongst them. And as for me, I will tell thee the sooth, to wit, that I long for this sorely. For I feel afraid in the wilderness, and as if I needed help and protection against my Mistress, though she be dead; and I need the comfort of many people, and the throngs of the cities. I cannot forget her: it was but last night that I dreamed (I suppose as the dawn grew a-cold) that I was yet under her hand, and she was stripping me for the torment; so that I woke up panting and crying out. I pray thee be not angry with me for telling thee of my desires; for if thou wouldst not have it so, then here will I abide with thee as thy mate, and strive to gather courage.”
He rose up and kissed her face, and said: “Nay, I had in sooth no mind to abide here for ever; I meant but that we should feast a while here, and then depart: sooth it is, that if thou dreadest the wilderness, somewhat I dread the city.”
She turned pale, and said: “Thou shalt have thy will, my friend, if it must be so. But bethink thee we be not yet at our journey’s end, and may have many things and much strife to endure, before we be at peace and in welfare. Now shall I tell thee—did I not before?—that while I am a maid untouched, my wisdom, and somedeal of might, abideth with me, and only so long. Therefore I entreat thee, let us go now, side by side, out of this fair valley, even as we are, so that my wisdom and might may help thee at need. For, my friend, I would not that our lives be short, so much of joy as hath now come into them.”
“Yea, beloved,” he said, “let us on straightway then, and shorten the while that sundereth us.”
“Love,” she said, “thou shalt pardon me one time for all. But this is to be said, that I know somewhat of the haps that lie a little way ahead of us; partly by my lore, and partly by what I learned of this land of the wild folk whiles thou wert lying asleep that morning.”
So they left that pleasant place by the water, and came into the open valley, and went their ways through the pass; and it soon became stony again, as they mounted the bent which went up from out the dale. And when they came to the brow of the said bent, they had a sight of the open country lying fair and joyous in the sunshine, and amidst of it, against the blue hills, the walls and towers of a great city.