“In God’s good time and if so He will, I will come back, and from the moment of my coming I will never again depart from you.”

“Promise me that!” she said, clinging to him with her arms twined about his neck, and he promised her, and so, comforting her a little more, he got him into his boat and sailed away upon his errand.

But of all this, the Princess Joceliande knew nothing.  From her balcony in the castle she saw the Sieur Rudel sail forth.  He stood upon the poop, the wind blowing the hair back from his face, and as she watched his straight figure, she said, “A boon he shall ask, but a greater will I grant.  Surely no man ever did such loyal service but for love, and for love’s sake, he shall share my throne with me.”  With that she wept a little for fear he might be slain or ever he should return; but she remembered from how many noble exploits he had come scatheless, and so taking heart once more she fell to thinking of his black locks and clear olive face and darkly shining eyes.  For, in truth, these outward qualities did more enthral and delight her than his most loyal services.

But for the maiden Solita, she got her back to her chamber and, remembering her lord’s advice, spied about for a mirror.  No mirror, however, did she possess, having never used aught else but a basin of clear water, and till now found it all-sufficient, so little curious had she been concerning the whiteness of her beauty.  Thereupon she thought for a little, and unbinding her hair so that it fell to her feet in a golden cloud, hied her to Joceliande, who bade her take a book of chivalry and read aloud.  But Solita so bent her head that her hair fell ever across the pages and hindered her from reading, and each time she put it roughly back from her forehead with some small word of anger as though she was vexed.

“What ails you, child?” asked the princess.

“It is my hair,” replied Solita.  But the princess paid no heed.  She heard little, indeed, even of what was read, but sat by the window gazing out across the grey hungry sea, and bethinking her of the Sieur Rudel and his gallant men.  And again Solita let her hair fall upon the scroll, and again she tossed it back, saying, “Fie!  Fie!”

“What ails you, child?” the princess asked.

“It is my hair,” she replied, and Joceliande, smiling heedlessly, bade her read on.  So she read until Joceliande bade her stop and called to her, and Solita came over to the window and knelt by the side of the princess, so that her hair fell across the wrist of Joceliande and fettered it.  “It is ever in the way,” said Solita, and she loosed it from the wrist of the princess.  But the princess caught the silky coils within her hand and smoothed them tenderly.  “That were easily remedied,” she replied with a smile, and she sought for the scissors which hung at her girdle.

But Solita bethought her that many men had praised the colour and softness of her hair—­why, she could not tell, for dark locks alone were beautiful in her eyes.  Howbeit men praised hers, and for Sieur Rudel’s sake she would fain be as praiseworthy as might be.  Therefore she stayed Joceliande’s hand and cried aloud in fear, “Nay, nay, sweet lady, ’tis all the gold I have, and I pray you leave it me who am so poor.”