the water, lovely as life, teaching men how they should bear them in loyal service to their lady.  On another wall, the goddess threw Ovid’s book within a fire of coals.  A scroll issuing from her lips proclaimed that those who read therein, and strove to ease them of their pains, would find from her neither service nor favour.  In this chamber the lady was put in ward, and with her a certain maiden to hold her company.  This damsel was her niece, since she was her sister’s child, and there was great love betwixt the twain.  When the Queen walked within the garden, or went abroad, this maiden was ever by her side, and came again with her to the house.  Save this damsel, neither man nor woman entered in the bower, nor issued forth from out the wall.  One only man possessed the key of the postern, an aged priest, very white and frail.  This priest recited the service of God within the chapel, and served the Queen’s plate and cup when she ate meat at table.

Now, on a day, the Queen had fallen asleep after meat, and on her awaking would walk a little in the garden.  She called her companion to her, and the two went forth to be glad amongst the flowers.  As they looked across the sea they marked a ship drawing near the land, rising and falling upon the waves.  Very fearful was the Queen thereat, for the vessel came to anchorage, though there was no helmsman to direct her course.  The dame’s face became sanguine for dread, and she turned her about to flee, because of her exceeding fear.  Her maiden, who was of more courage than she, stayed her mistress with many comforting words.  For her part she was very desirous to know what this thing meant.  She hastened to the shore, and laying aside her mantle, climbed within this wondrous vessel.  Thereon she found no living soul, save only the knight sleeping fast within the pavilion.  The damsel looked long upon the knight, for pale he was as wax, and well she deemed him dead.  She returned forthwith to the Queen, and told her of this marvel, and of the good knight who was slain.

“Let us go together on the ship,” replied the lady.  “If he be dead we may give him fitting burial, and the priest shall pray meetly for his soul.  Should he be yet alive perchance he will speak, and tell us of his case.”

Without more tarrying the two damsels mounted on the ship, the lady before, and her maiden following after.  When the Queen entered in the pavilion she stayed her feet before the bed, for joy and grief of what she saw.  She might not refrain her eyes from gazing on the knight, for her heart was ravished with his beauty, and she sorrowed beyond measure, because of his grievous hurt.  To herself she said, “In a bad hour cometh the goodly youth.”  She drew near the bed, and placing her hand upon his breast, found that the flesh was warm, and that the heart beat strongly in his side.  Gugemar awoke at the touch, and saluted the dame as sweetly as he was able, for well he knew that he had come to a Christian land.  The lady, full of thought, returned him his salutation right courteously, though the tears were yet in her eyes.  Straightway she asked of him from what realm he came, and of what people, and in what war he had taken his hurt.