“My lady, my friend, my love,” said he, “heart and mistress and hope, and the sum of all that I hold dear, know well that I have yearned to be with you as we are now, every day and all day long since we met.”

“Sweet lord, sweet friend, sweet love,” replied the lady, “never has a day nor an hour gone by but I was awearied of its length.  But I grieve no longer over the past, for I have my heart’s desire when you are with me, joyous and well.  Right welcome are you to your friend.”

And the knight made answer,

“Love, you are welcome and wellmet.”

From his place of hiding, near the entrance to the chamber, the Duke hearkened to every word.  His niece’s voice and face were so familiar to him, that he could not doubt that the Duchess had lied.  Greatly was he content, for he was now assured that his friend had not done amiss in that of which he had misdoubted him.  All through the night he kept watch and ward.  But during his vigil the dame and the knight, close and sleepless in the chamber, knew such joy and tenderness as it is not seemly should be told or heard, save of those who hope themselves to attain such solace, when Love grants them recompense for all their pains.  For he who desires nothing of this joy and quittance, even if it were told him, would but listen to a tongue he could not understand, since his heart is not turned to Love, and none can know the wealth of such riches, except Love whisper it in his ear.  Of such kingdom not all are worthy:  for there joy goes without anger, and solace is crowned with fruition.  But so fleet are things sweet, that to the lover his joy seems to find but a brief content.  So pleasant is the life he passes that he wishes his night a week, his week to stretch to a month, the month become a year, and one year three, and three years twenty, and the twenty attain to a hundred.  Yea, when the term and end were reached, he would that the dusk were closing, rather than the dawn had come.

This was the case with the lover whom the Duke awaited in the orchard.  When day was breaking, and he durst remain no longer, he came with his lady to the door.  The Duke marked the fashion of their leave-taking, the kisses given and granted, the sighs and the weeping as they bade farewell.  When they had wept many tears, and devised an hour for their next meeting, the knight departed in this fashion, and the lady shut the door.  But so long as she might see him, she followed his going with her pretty eyes, since there was nothing better she could do.

When the Duke knew the postern was made fast, he hastened on his road until he overtook the knight, who to himself was making his complaint of the season, that all too short was his hour.  The same thought and the self same words were hers from whom he had parted, for the briefness of the time had betrayed her delight, and she had no praises for the dawn.  The knight was deep in his thought and speech, when he was overtaken by the Duke.  The Duke embraced his friend, greeting him very tenderly.  Then he said to him,