And coming into her chamber, Solita beheld the mirror ranged against the wall, and long she stood before it, being much comforted by the image which she saw.  From that day ever she watched the ladies of the court, noting jealously if any might be more fair than she whom Sieur Rudel had chosen; and often of a night when she was troubled by the aspect of some fair and delicate new-comer, she would rise from her couch and light a taper, and so gaze at herself until the fear of her unworthiness diminished.  For there were none that could compare with her in daintiness and fair looks ever came to the castle of the Princess Joceliande.

But of the Sieur Rudel, though oft she thought, she never spake, biding his good time, and the princess questioned her in vain.  For she, whose heart hitherto had lain plain to see, like a pebble in a clear brook of water, had now learnt all the sweet cunning of love’s duplicity.

Thus the time drew on towards the Sieur Rudel’s home-coming, and ever the twain looked out across the sea for the black boats to round the bluff and take the beach—­Joceliande from her balcony, Solita from the window of her little chamber in the tower; and each night the princess gave orders to light a beacon on the highest headland that the wayfarers might steer safely down that red path across the tumbling waters.

So it fell that one night both ladies beheld two ships swim to the shore, and each made dolorous moan, seeing how few of the goodly company that sailed forth had got them home again, and wondering in sore distress whether Rudel had returned with them or no.

But in a little there came a servant to the princess and told of one Sir Broyance de Mille-Faits, a messenger from the neighbouring kingdom of Broye, that implored instant speech with her.  And being admitted before all the Court assembled in the great hall, he fell upon his knees at the foot of the princess, and, making his obeisance, said—­

    “Fair Lady Joceliande, I crave a boon, and I pray you of your
    gentleness to grant it me.”

“But what boon, good Sir Broyance?” replied the princess.  “I know you for a true and loyal gentleman who has ever been welcome at my castle.  Speak, then, your need, and if so be I may, you shall find me complaisant to your request.”

Thereupon, Sir Broyance took heart and said: 

“Since our king died, God rest his soul, there has been no peace or quiet in our kingdom of Broye.  ’Tis rent with strife and factions, so that no man may dwell in it but he must fight from morn to night, and withal win no rest for the morrow.  The king’s three sons contend for the throne, and meanwhile is the country eaten up.  Therefore am I sent by many, and those our chiefest gentlemen, to ask you to send us Sieur Rudel, that he may quell these conflicts and rule over us as our king.”

So Sir Broyance spake and was silent, and a great murmur and acclamation rose about the hall for that the Sieur Rudel was held in such honour and worship even beyond his own country.  But for the Princess Joceliande, she sat with downcast head, and for a while vouchsafed no reply.  For her heart was sore at the thought that Sieur Rudel should go from her.