“Alas!” said Marie d’Annebaut, “thou art my strength and my life, my joy and my treasure.”

“And you,” replied he “you are a pearl, an angel.”

“Thou art my seraphim.”

“You my soul.”

“Thou my God.”

“You my evening star and morning star, my honour, my beauty, my universe.”

“Thou my great my divine master.”

“You my glory, my faith, my religion.”

“Thou my gentle one, my handsome one, my courageous one, my dear one, my cavalier, my defender, my king, my love.”

“You my fairy, the flower of my days, the dream of my nights.”

“Thou my thought at every moment.”

“You the delights of my eyes.”

“Thou the voice of my soul.”

“You my light by day.”

“Thou my glimmer in the night.”

“You the best beloved among women.”

“Thou the most adored of men.”

“You my blood, a myself better than myself.”

“Thou art my heart, my lustre.”

“You my saint, my only joy.”

“I yield thee the palm of love, and how great so’er mine be, I believe thou lovest me still more, for thou art the lord.”

“No; the palm is yours, my goddess, my Virgin Marie.”

“No; I am thy servant, thine handmaiden, a nothing thou canst crush to atoms.”

“No, no! it is I who am your slave, your faithful page, whom you see as a breath of air, upon whom you can walk as on a carpet.  My heart is your throne.”

“No, dearest, for thy voice transfigures me.”

“Your regard burns me.”

“I see but thee.”

“I love but you.”

“Oh! put thine hand upon my heart—­only thine hand—­and thou will see me pale, when my blood shall have taken the heat of thine.”

Then during these struggles their eyes, already ardent, flamed still more brightly, and the good knight was a little the accomplice of the pleasure which Marie d’Annebaut took in feeling his hand upon her heart.  Now, as in this light embrace all their strength was put forth, all their desires strained, all their ideas of the thing concentrated, it happened that the knight’s transport reached a climax.  Their eyes wept warm tears, they seized each other hard and fast as fire seizes houses; but that was all.  Lavalliere had promised to return safe and sound to his friend the body only, not the heart.

When Maille announced his return, it was quite time, since no virtue could avoid melting upon this gridiron; and the less licence the lovers had, the more pleasure they had in their fantasies.

Leaving Marie d’Annebaut, the good companion in arms went as far as Bondy to meet his friend, to help him to pass through the forest without accident, and the two brothers slept together, according to the ancient custom, in the village of Bondy.

There, in their bed, they recounted to each other, one of the adventures of his journey, the other the gossip of the camp, stories of gallantry, and the rest.  But Maille’s first question was touching Marie d’Annebaut, whom Lavalliere swore to be intact in that precious place where the honour of husbands is lodged; at which the amorous Maille was highly delighted.