Her locks were yellow and curled, her eyes blue and smiling, her face
featly fashioned, the nose high and fairly set, the lips more red than
cherry or rose in time of summer, her teeth white and small; her breasts
so firm that they bore up the folds of her bodice as they had been two
apples; so slim she was in the waist that your two hands might have
clipped her, and the daisy flowers that brake beneath her as she went tip-
toe, and that bent above her instep, seemed black against her feet, so
white was the maiden. She came to the postern gate, and unbarred it, and
went out through the streets of Biaucaire, keeping always on the shadowy
side, for the moon was shining right clear, and so wandered she till she
came to the tower where her lover lay. The tower was flanked with
buttresses, and she cowered under one of them, wrapped in her mantle.
Then thrust she her head through a crevice of the tower that was old and
worn, and so heard she Aucassin wailing within, and making dole and
lament for the sweet lady he loved so well. And when she had listened to
him she began to say:
Here one singeth:
Nicolete the bright of brow
On a pillar leanest thou,
All Aucassin's wail dost hear
For his love that is so dear,
Then thou spakest, shrill and clear,
"Gentle knight withouten fear
Little good befalleth thee,
Little help of sigh or tear,
Ne'er shalt thou have joy of me.
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