And thou'rt fierce and ungentle of face.
Here she wept the more piteously and Sir Pertinax, viewing her distress,
forgot his hook and worm, wherefore a fish nibbled it slyly, while the
Knight questioned her further:
HE: Woeful virgin, whence comest thou?
SHE: From afar. And thou art ofeatures grim and--
HE: And whither would'st journey?
SHE: No where! And thou art--
HE: Nay, here is thing impossible, since being here thou art somewhere and
that within three bowshots of the goodly town of Canalise wherein thou
shalt doubtless come by comfort and succour.
SHE: Never! Never! Here will I weep and moan and perish. And thou--
HE: And wherefore moan and perish?
SHE: For that I am so minded, being a maid forlorn and desolate, a poor
wanderer destitute of kith, of kin, of hope, of love, and all that maketh
life sweet. And thou art sour-faced and--
HE: Grievous maid, is, among thy many wants, a lack of money?
SHE: That also. And thou art cold of eye, fierce of mouth, hooked of nose,
flinty of heart, stony of soul, and I a perishing maid.
Pages:
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84