Now without the town there spread a great forest, thick with trees, and through the forest ran a river.  Towards this forest Graelent rode, deep in heavy thought, and very dolent.  Having ridden for a little space beneath the trees, he spied within a leafy thicket a fair white hart, whiter even than snow on winter branches.  The hart fled before him, and Graelent followed so closely in her track that man and deer presently came together to a grassy lawn, in the midst of which sprang a fountain of clear, sweet water.  Now in this fountain a demoiselle disported herself for her delight.  Her raiment was set on a bush near by, and her two maidens stood on the bank busied in their lady’s service.  Graelent forgot the chase at so sweet a sight, since never in his life had he seen so lovely a dame.  For the lady was slender in shape and white, very gracious and dainty of colour, with laughing eyes and an open brow, certainly the most beautiful thing in all the world.  Graelent dared not draw nigh the fountain for fear of troubling the dame, so he came softly to the bush to set hands upon her raiment.  The two maidens marked his approach, and at their fright the lady turned, and calling him by name, cried with great anger,

“Graelent, put my raiment down, for it will profit you little even if you carry it away, and leave me naked in this wood.  But if you are indeed too greedy of gain to remember your knighthood, at least return me my shift, and content yourself with my mantle, since it will bring you money, as it is very good.”

“I am not a merchant’s son,” answered Graelent merrily, “nor am I a huckster to sell mantles in a booth.  If your cloak were worth the spoil of three castles I would not now carry it from the bush.  Come forth from your bathing, fair friend, and clothe yourself in your vesture, for you have to say a certain word to me.”

“I will not trust myself to your hand, for you might seize upon me,” answered the lady, “and I tell you frankly that I put no faith in your word, nor have had any dealings with your school.”

Then Graelent answered still more merrily, “Lady, needs must I suffer your wrath.  But at least I will guard your raiment till you come forth from the well and, fairest, very dainty is your body in my eyes.”

When the lady knew that Graelent would not depart, nor render again her raiment, then she demanded surety that he would do her no hurt.  This thing was accorded between them, so she came forth from the fountain, and did her vesture upon her.  Then Graelent took her gently by the left hand, and prayed and required of her that she would grant him love for love.  But the lady answered, “I marvel greatly that you should dare to speak to me in this fashion, for I have little reason to think you discreet.  You are bold, sir knight, and overbold, to seek to ally yourself with a woman of my lineage.”