“Ah,” cried the knight, “for God’s love, have pity, Sire.  I know not what I ought to say, nor what will become of me; but I would rather die than lose what lose I shall if she only hears that you have the truth, and that you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man.”

The Duke made answer,

“I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on the faith and love I owe you again by reason of your homage, that never in my life will I tell the tale to any creature born, or even breathe a word or make a sign about the business.”

With the tears yet running down his face the knight said to him,

“Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret.  I love your niece of Vergi, and she loves me, so that no friends can love more fondly.”

“If you wish to be believed,” replied the Duke, “tell me now, if any, save you two alone, knows anything of this joy?”

And the knight made answer to him,

“Nay, not a creature in the world.”

Then said the Duke,

“No love is so privy as that.  If none has heard thereof, how do you meet together, and how devise time and place?”

“By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back nothing, since you know so much of our counsel.”

So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro within the pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his friend, and of the office of the little dog.

Then said the Duke,

“I require of you that I may be your comrade at such fair meeting.  When you go again to the orchard, I too, would enter therein, and mark for myself the success of your device.  As for my niece she shall perceive naught.”

“Sire, if it be your will it is my pleasure also; save, only, that you find it not heavy or burdensome.  Know well that I go this very night.”

The Duke said that he would go with him, for the vigil would in no wise be burdensome, but rather a frolic and a game.  They accorded between them a place of meeting, where they would draw together on foot, and alone.  When nightfall was come they fared to the hostel of the Duke’s niece, for her dwelling was near at hand.  They had not tarried long in the garden, when the Duke saw his niece’s lapdog run straight to that end of the orchard where the knight was hidden.  Wondrous kindness showed the knight to his lady’s dog.  Immediately he took his way to her lodging, and left his master in his nook by the wall.  The Duke followed after till he drew near the chamber, and held himself coy, concealing him as best he might.  It was easy enough to do this, for a great tree stood there, high and leafy, so that he was covered close as by a shield.  From this place he marked the little dog enter the chamber, and presently saw his niece issue therefrom, and hurry forth to meet her lover in the pleasaunce.  He was so close that he could see and hear the solace of that greeting, the salutation of her mouth and of her hands.  She embraced him closely in her fair white arms, kissing him more than a hundred times, whilst she spoke many comforting words.  The knight for his part kissed her again, and held her fast, praising her with many tender names.