About this time the lord and lady of Bastarnay were invited by the king to come to his town of Loches, where for the present he was with his court, in which the beauty of the lady of Bastarnay had made a great noise.  Bertha came to Loches, received many kind praises from the king, was the centre of the homage of all the young nobles, who feasted their eyes on this apple of love, and of the old ones, who warmed themselves at this sun.  But you may be sure that all of them, old and young, would have suffered death a thousand times over to have at their service this instrument of joy, which dazzled their eyes and muddled their brains.  Bertha was more talked about in Loches then either God or the Gospels, which enraged a great many ladies who were not so bountifully endowed with charms, and would have given all that was left of their honour to have sent back to her castle this fair gatherer of smiles.

A young lady having early perceived that one of her lovers was smitten with Bertha, took such a hatred to her that from it arose all the misfortunes of the lady of Bastarnay; but also from the same source came her happiness, and her discovery of the gentle land of love, of which she was ignorant.  This wicked lady had a relation who had confessed to her, directly he saw Bertha, that to be her lover he would be willing to die after a month’s happiness with her.  Bear in mind that this cousin was as handsome as a girl is beautiful, had no hair on his chin, would have gained his enemy’s forgiveness by asking for it, so melodious was his young voice, and was scarcely twenty years of age.

“Dear cousin,” said she to him, “leave the room, and go to your house; I will endeavour to give you this joy.  But do not let yourself be seen by her, nor by that old baboon-face by an error of nature on a Christian’s body, and to whom belongs this beauteous fay.”

The young gentleman out of the way, the lady came rubbing her treacherous nose against Bertha’s, and called her “My friend, my treasure, my star of beauty”; trying every way to be agreeable to her, to make her vengeance more certain on the poor child who, all unwittingly, had caused her lover’s heart to be faithless, which, for women ambitious in love, is the worst of infidelities.  After a little conversation, the plotting lady suspected that poor Bertha was a maiden in matters of love, when she saw her eyes full of limpid water, no marks on the temples, no little black speck on the point of her little nose, white as snow, where usually the marks of the amusement are visible, no wrinkle on her brow; in short, no habit of pleasure apparent on her face—­clear as the face of an innocent maiden.  Then this traitress put certain women’s questions to her, and was perfectly assured by the replies of Bertha, that if she had had the profit of being a mother, the pleasures of love had been denied to her.  At this she rejoiced greatly on her cousin’s behalf—­like the good woman she was.