“Sweet friend,” said the knight, “it is for you that my life is lost.  Did I not speak truly that if our loves were known, very surely I should be slain?”

On hearing these words the lady’s head fell upon the pillow, and for a space she lay as she were dead.  The knight cherished her sweetly.  He prayed her not to sorrow overmuch, since she should bear a son who would be her exceeding comfort.  His name should be called Yonec.  He would prove a valiant knight, and would avenge both her and him by slaying their enemy.  The knight could stay no longer, for he was bleeding to death from his hurt.  In great dolour of mind and body he flew from the chamber.  The lady pursued the bird with many shrill cries.  In her desire to follow him she sprang forth from the window.  Marvellous it was that she was not killed outright, for the window was fully twenty feet from the ground.  When the lady made her perilous leap she was clad only in her shift.  Dressed in this fashion she set herself to follow the knight by the drops of blood which dripped from his wound.  She went along the road that he had gone before, till she lighted on a little lodge.  This lodge had but one door, and it was stained with blood.  By the marks on the lintel she knew that Eudemarec had refreshed him in the hut, but she could not tell whether he was yet within.  The damsel entered in the lodge, but all was dark, and since she might not find him, she came forth, and pursued her way.  She went so far that at the last the lady came to a very fair meadow.  She followed the track of blood across this meadow, till she saw a city near at hand.  This fair city was altogether shut in with high walls.  There was no house, nor hall, nor tower, but shone bright as silver, so rich were the folk who dwelt therein.  Before the town lay a still water.  To the right spread a leafy wood, and on the left hand, near by the keep, ran a clear river.  By this broad stream the ships drew to their anchorage, for there were above three hundred lying in the haven.  The lady entered in the city by the postern gate.  The gouts of freshly fallen blood led her through the streets to the castle.  None challenged her entrance to the city; none asked of her business in the streets; she passed neither man nor woman upon her way.  Spots of red blood lay on the staircase of the palace.  The lady entered and found herself within a low ceiled room, where a knight was sleeping on a pallet.  She looked upon his face and passed beyond.  She came within a larger room, empty, save for one lonely couch, and for the knight who slept thereon.  But when the lady entered in the third chamber she saw a stately bed, that well she knew to be her friend’s.  This bed was of inwrought gold, and was spread with silken cloths beyond price.  The furniture was worth the ransom of a city, and waxen torches in sconces of silver lighted the chamber, burning night and day.  Swiftly as the lady had come she knew again her friend, directly she saw him with her eyes.  She hastened to the bed, and incontinently swooned for grief.  The knight clasped her in his arms, bewailing his wretched lot, but when she came to her mind, he comforted her as sweetly as he might.