Sir Ulric was filled with horror, and would gladly have given all his goods and his lands to escape such a union.  But not anything would the old crone take in exchange for his fair self; and the queen and all the court agreeing that she had the right to enforce her request, which he had promised on his knightly honor, he was at last obliged to yield and make her his wife.

Never in all King Arthur’s court were sadder nuptials than these.  No feasting, no joy, but only gloom and heaviness, which, spreading itself from the wretched Sir Ulric, infected all the court.  Many a fair dame pitied him sorely, and not a knight but thanked his gracious stars that he did not stand in the like ill fortune.

After the wedding ceremonies, as Ulric sat alone in his chamber, very heavy-hearted and sad, his aged bride entered and sat down hear him.  But he turned his back upon her, resolving that now she was his wife, he would have no more speech with her.

While he sat thus inattentive, she began to speak with him, and in spite of his indifference, Sir Ulric could but confess that her voice was passing sweet, and her words full of wit and sense.  In a long discourse she painted to him the advantage of having a bride who from very gratitude would always be most faithful and loving.  She instanced from history and song all those who by beauty had been betrayed, and by youth had been led into folly.  At last she said:—­

“Now, my sweet lord, I pray thee tell me this.  Would you rather I should be as I am, and be to you a true and humble wife, wise in judgment, subject in all things to your will, or young and foolish, and apt to betray your counsels.  Choose now betwixt the two.”

Then the knight, who had listened in much wonder to the wisdom with which she spoke, and had pondered over her words while speaking, could not help being moved by the beauty of her conversation, which surpassed the beauty of any woman’s face which he had ever seen.  Under this spell he answered her:—­

“Indeed I am content to choose you even as you are.  Be as you will.  A man could have no better guidance than the will of so sensible a wife.”

On this his bride uttered a glad cry.

“Look around upon me, my good lord,” she said; “since you are willing to yield to my will in this, behold that I am not only wise, but young and fair also.  The enchantment, which held me thus aged and deformed, till I could find a knight who in spite of my ugliness would marry me, and would be content to yield to my will, is forever removed.  Now, I am your fair, as well as your loving wife.”

Turning around, the knight beheld a lady sweet and young, more lovely in her looks than Guinevere herself.  With happy tears she related how the enchantments had been wrought which held her in the form of an ancient hag until he had helped to remove the spell.  And from that time forth they lived in great content, each happy to yield equally to each other in all things.