"Aucassin, of such fever as yours I, too, have been sick. I can give you good counsel, if you are willing to listen."
"Sir knight," said Aucassin, "great thanks; good counsel, above all things, I would hear."
"Get to horse," said he; "take your pleasure in the woodland, amongst flowers and bracken and the songs of the birds. Perchance, who knows? you may hear some word of which you will be glad."
"Sir knight," answered Aucassin, "great thanks; this I will do."
He left the hall privily, and went down-stairs to the stable where was his horse. He caused the charger to be saddled and bridled, then put foot in stirrup, mounted, and left the castle, riding till he entered the forest, and so by adventure came upon the well whereby the shepherd lads were sitting, and it was then about three hours after noon. They had spread a cloak upon the grass, and were eating their bread, with great mirth and jollity.
Round about the well were set Martin, Robin, Esmeret; Jolly shepherds, gaily met, Frulin, Jack and Aubriet. Laughed the one, "God keep in ward Aucassin, our brave young lord. Keep besides the damsel fair, Blue of eye and gold of hair, Gave us wherewithal to buy Cate and sheath knife presently, Horn and quarter staff and fruit, Shepherd's pipe and country flute; God make him well."
When Aucassin marked the song of the herdboys he called to heart Nicolette, his very sweet friend, whom he held so dear. He thought she must have passed that way, so he struck his horse with the spurs and came quickly to the shepherds.
"God bless you," replied he who was readier of tongue than his fellows.
"Fair children," said he, "tell over again the song that you told but now."
"We will not tell it," answered he who was more fluent of speech than the others; "sorrow be his who sings it to you, fair sir."
"Fair children," returned Aucassin, "do you not know me?"
"Oh yes, we know well that you are Aucassin, our young lord; but we are not your men; we belong to the Count."
"Fair children, sing me the song once more, I pray you!"
"By the Wounded Heart, what fine words! Why should I sing for you, if I have no wish to do so? Why, the richest man in all the land--saving the presence of Count Garin--would not dare to drive my sheep and oxen and cows from out his wheatfield or his pasture, for fear of losing his eyes. Wherefore, then, should I sing for you, if I have no wish to do so?"