Hearken all to what befell.  The Duke went straightway to the tiring chamber, and drew from out the wound that sword by which the knight lay slain.  He said no word, but hastened forthwith to the hall where the guests were yet at their dancing.  Entering there he acquitted himself of his promise, for he smote the Duchess on the head with the naked sword he carried in his hand.  He struck the blow without one word, since his wrath was too deep for speech.  The Duchess fell at his feet, in the sight of the barons of his realm, whereat the feast was sorely troubled, for in place of mirth and carol, now were blood and death.  Then the Duke told loudly and swiftly, before all who cared to hear, this pitiful story, in the midst of his Court.  There was not one but wept, and his tears were the more piteous when he beheld those two lovers who lay dead in the chamber, and the Duchess in her hall.  So the Court broke up in dole and anger, for of this deed came mighty mischief.  On the morrow the Duke caused the lovers to be laid in one tomb, and the Duchess in a place apart.  But of this adventure the Duke had such bitterness that never was he known to laugh again.  He took the Cross, and went beyond the sea, where joining himself to the Knights Templar, he never returned to his own realm.

Ah, God! all this mischief and encumbrance chanced to the knight by reason of his making plain that he should have hid, and of publishing what his friend forbade him to speak, if he would keep her love.  From this ensample we may learn that it is not seemly to love, and tell.  He who blabs and blazons his friendship gets not one kiss the more; but he who goes discreetly preserves life and love and fame.  For the friendship of the discreet lover falls not before the mine of such false and felon pryers as burrow privily into their neighbour’s secret love.