The self-same night, whilst the lad lay sleeping in his bed, that fair lady, his friend, was in much unrest in hers.  The tidings of her lover’s boast had been carried quickly to her chamber, and sorely was she adread for what might chance.  When the Eve of St. John was come, and the day drew towards evening, the varlet, with all fair hopes, made him ready to ride to the Ford Adventurous.  He had clad himself from basnet to shoes in steel, and mounted on a strong destrier, went his road to essay the Passage of the Thorn.  Whilst he took his path the maiden took hers.  She went furtively to the orchard, that she might importune God to bring her friend again, safe and sound to his own house.  She seated herself on the roots of a tree, and with sighs and tears lamented her piteous case.

“Father of Heaven,” said the girl, “Who was and ever shall be, be pitiful to my prayer.  Since it is not to Thy will that any man should be wretched, be merciful to a most unhappy maid.  Fair Sire, give back the days that are gone, when my friend was at my side, and grant that once again I may be with him.  Lord God of Hosts, when shall I be healed?  None knows the bitterness of my sorrow, for none may taste thereof, save such as set their heart on what they may not have.  These only, Lord, know the wormwood and the gall.”

Thus prayed the maiden, seated on the roots of that ancient tree, her feet upon the tender grass.  At the time of her orisons much was she sought and inquired after in the palace, but none might find where she had hidden.  The damsel herself was given over altogether to her love and her sorrow, and had no thought for anything, save for prayers and tears.  The night wore through, and dawn already laced the sky, when she fell on a little slumber, in the tree where she was sheltered.  She woke with a start, but returned to her sleep more deeply than before.  She had not slept long, when herseemed she was ravished from the tree—­but I cannot make this plain for I know no wizardry—­to that Ford of the Thorn, where her friend and lover had repaired.  The knight looked upon the sleeping maiden, and marvelled at so fair a sight.  All adread was the lady when she came from her slumber, for she knew not where she lay, and wondered greatly.  She covered her head by reason of her exceeding fear, but the knight consoled her courteously.

“Diva,” said he, “there is no reason for terror.  If you are an earthly woman, speaking with a mortal tongue, tell me your story.  Tell me in what guise and manner you came so suddenly to this secret place.”

The maiden began to be of more courage, till she remembered that she was no longer in the orchard of the castle.  She inquired of the knight to what haunt she had come.

“Lady,” he made answer, “you are laid at the Ford of the Thorn, where adventures chance to the seeker, sometimes greatly against the mind, and sometimes altogether according to the heart.”