thereupon came to Court, imagining that it was her husband who summoned her.  Whether the story be true or not, it should be mentioned that the sole authority for it is Varillas, whose errors and inventions are innumerable.—­Ed.

Elisor took the ring and broke it in two, giving one half of it to the Queen, and keeping the other himself.  Then, more corpse-like than those who have given up the ghost, he took his leave, and went to his lodging to give orders for his departure.  In doing this he sent all his attendants to his house, and departed alone with one servingman to so solitary a spot that none of his friends or kinsfolk could obtain tidings of him during the seven years.

Of the life that he led during this time, and the grief that he endured through this banishment, nothing is recorded, but lovers cannot be ignorant of their nature.  At the end of the seven years, just as the Queen was one day going to mass, a hermit with a long beard came to her, kissed her hand, and presented her with a petition.  This she did not look at immediately, although it was her custom to receive in her own hands all the petitions that were presented to her, no matter how poor the petitioners might be.

When mass was half over, however, she opened the petition, and found in it the half-ring which she had given to Elisor.  At this she was not less glad than astonished, and before reading the contents she instantly commanded her almoner to bring her the tall hermit who had presented her the petition.

The almoner looked for him everywhere, but could obtain no tidings of him, except that some one said that he had seen him mount a horse, but knew not what road he had taken.

Whilst she was waiting for the almoner’s return, the Queen read the petition, which she found to be an epistle in verse, written in the best style imaginable; and were it not that I would have you acquainted with it, I should never have dared to translate it; for you must know, ladies, that, for grace and expression, the Castilian is beyond compare the tongue which is best fitted to set forth the passion of love.  The matter of the letter was as follows:—­

     “Time, by his puissance stern, his sov’reign might,
     Hath made me learn love’s character aright;
     And, bringing with him, in his gloomy train,
     The speechless eloquence of bitter pain,
     Hath caused the unbelieving one to know
     What words of love were impotent to show. 
     Time made my heart, aforetime, meekly bow
     Unto the mastery of love; but now
     Time hath, at last, revealed love to be
     Far other than it once appeared to me;
     And Time the frail foundation hath made clear
     Whereon I purposed, once, my love to rear—­
     To wit, your beauty, which but served as sheath
     To hide the cruelty that lurked beneath.