“Sir,” said Messire Thibault, “you have but my word.  The truth can only be assured if the lady might bear witness and testify with her own mouth.”

“Thibault,” said the Count, “know you the name of this knight?”

“Sir,” cried Messire Thibault, “I beg you again to exempt me from naming the knight to whom this sorrow befell.  Know of a truth that his name will bring no profit.”

“Thibault,” said the Count, “it is my pleasure that his name should not be hid.”

“Sir,” answered Thibault, “tell I must, as you will not acquit me; but I take you to witness that I speak only under compulsion, since gladly I would have kept silence, had this been your pleasure, for in the telling there is neither worship nor honour.”

“Thibault,” replied the Count, “without more words I would know forthwith who was the knight to whom this adventure chanced.  By the faith that you owe to your God and to me, I conjure you to tell me his name, since it is in your mind.”

“Sir,” replied Messire Thibault, “I will answer by the faith I owe my God and you, since you lay this charge upon me.  Know well, and be persuaded, that I am the knight on whom this sorrow lighted.  Hold it for truth that I was sorely troubled and sick of heart.  Be assured that never before have I spoken to any living man about the business, and moreover that gladly would I have held my peace, had such been your will.”

When the Count heard this adventure he was sore astonied, and altogether cast down.  He kept silence for a great space, speaking never a word.  At the last he said, “Thibault, was it indeed my child who did this thing?”

“Sir, it is verily and truly so.”

“Thibault,” said the Count, “sweet shall be your vengeance, since you have given her again to my hand.”

Because of his exceeding wrath the Count sent straightway for his daughter, and demanded of her if those things were true of which Messire Thibault had spoken.  She inquired of the accusation, and her father answered, “That you would have slain him with the sword, even as he has told me?”

“Sir, of a surety.”

“And wherefore would you slay your husband?”

“Sir, for reason that I am yet heavy that he is not dead.”

When the Count heard the lady speak in this fashion, he answered her nothing, but suffered in silence until the guests had departed.  After these were gone, the Count came on a day to Rue-sur-Mer, and Messire Thibault with him, and the Count’s son.  With them also went the lady.  Then the Count caused a ship to be got ready, very stout and speedy, and he made the dame to enter in the boat.  He set also on the ship an untouched barrel, very high and strong.  These three lords climbed into the nave, with no other company, save those sailors who should labour at the oar.  The Count commanded the mariners to put the ship to sea, and all marvelled greatly as to what he purposed, but there was none