“Wife,” said he, “I go naked as a beast.”

“Tell me, for hope of grace, what you do with your clothing?”

“Fair wife, that will I never.  If I should lose my raiment, or even be marked as I quit my vesture, then a Were-Wolf I must go for all the days of my life.  Never again should I become man, save in that hour my clothing were given back to me.  For this reason never will I show my lair.”

“Husband,” replied the lady to him, “I love you better than all the world.  The less cause have you for doubting my faith, or hiding any tittle from me.  What savour is here of friendship?  How have I made forfeit of your love; for what sin do you mistrust my honour?  Open now your heart, and tell what is good to be known.”

So at the end, outwearied and overborne by her importunity, he could no longer refrain, but told her all.

“Wife,” said he, “within this wood, a little from the path, there is a hidden way, and at the end thereof an ancient chapel, where oftentimes I have bewailed my lot.  Near by is a great hollow stone, concealed by a bush, and there is the secret place where I hide my raiment, till I would return to my own home.”

On hearing this marvel the lady became sanguine of visage, because of her exceeding fear.  She dared no longer to lie at his side, and turned over in her mind, this way and that, how best she could get her from him.  Now there was a certain knight of those parts, who, for a great while, had sought and required this lady for her love.  This knight had spent long years in her service, but little enough had he got thereby, not even fair words, or a promise.  To him the dame wrote a letter, and meeting, made her purpose plain.

“Fair friend,” said she, “be happy.  That which you have coveted so long a time, I will grant without delay.  Never again will I deny your suit.  My heart, and all I have to give, are yours, so take me now as love and dame.”

Right sweetly the knight thanked her for her grace, and pledged her faith and fealty.  When she had confirmed him by an oath, then she told him all this business of her lord—­why he went, and what he became, and of his ravening within the wood.  So she showed him of the chapel, and of the hollow stone, and of how to spoil the Were-Wolf of his vesture.  Thus, by the kiss of his wife, was Bisclavaret betrayed.  Often enough had he ravished his prey in desolate places, but from this journey he never returned.  His kinsfolk and acquaintance came together to ask of his tidings, when this absence was noised abroad.  Many a man, on many a day, searched the woodland, but none might find him, nor learn where Bisclavaret was gone.