But she might not tell them of her
lineage, for she was but a child when men stole her away. So sailed they
till they won the City of Carthage, and when Nicolete saw the walls of
the castle, and the country-side, she knew that there had she been
nourished and thence stolen away, being but a child. Yet was she not so
young a child but that well she knew she had been daughter of the King of
Carthage; and of her nurture in that city.
_Here singeth one_:
Nicolete the good and true
To the land hath come anew,
Sees the palaces and walls,
And the houses and the halls!
Then she spake and said, "Alas!
That of birth so great I was,
Cousin of the Amiral
And the very child of him
Carthage counts King of Paynim,
Wild folk hold me here withal;
Nay Aucassin, love of thee
Gentle knight, and true, and free,
Burns and wastes the heart of me.
Ah God grant it of his grace,
That thou hold me, and embrace,
That thou kiss me on the face
Love and lord!"
Then speak they, say they, tell they the Tale:
When the King of Carthage heard Nicolete speak in this wise, he cast his
arms about her neck.
"Fair sweet love," saith he, "tell me who thou art, and be not adread of
me."
"Sir," said she, "I am daughter to the King of Carthage, and was taken,
being then a little child, it is now fifteen years gone.
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