have hoped in God that he would one day enable me to requite thee; but now this misery, which is worse than death, is come upon me, and we must part, and I have nothing to leave thee, except this island: I therefore command Ysanjo and all others, by the homage which they have done to me, that so soon as they shall know my death they take thee for their Lord. The Lordship shall be thine, but I enjoin that thy father and mother enjoy it while they live, and afterwards it shall remain to thee. This I do for what they did for my childhood, for my ill fortune will not suffer me to do what they deserve, and what I desire. He then told Ysanjo to take from the rents of the island, which had accumulated, enough to build a monastery by that chapel, in honour of the Virgin Mary, and to endow it for thirty friars. But Gandalin cried out, Sir, you never yet had trouble wherein I was separated from you, nor shall it be now; and if you die, I do not wish to live: and I want no honours or lordships; give it to your brethren, I will not take it, and I do not want it. Hold thy peace, for God's sake, quoth Amadis, and say no such folly to displease me. My brethren are of such worth that they can gain lands for themselves, and to bestow on others. Then he said to Ysanjo, it grieves me, my friend Ysanjo, to leave you before I could honour you according to your deserts; but I leave you with those who will do it. Ysanjo answered, let me go with you, Sir, and suffer what you suffer. Friend, answered Amadis, it must be as I say; God only can comfort me! I will be guided by his mercy, and have no other company. He then said to Gandalin, if thou desirest knighthood, take my arms; for, since thou hast kept them so well, it is right they should be thine. I shall little need them: if not, my brother Galaor shall knight thee. Tell him this Ysanjo, and serve and love him as thou hast me, for I love him above all my lineage, because he is the best, and hath ever been humble towards me. Tell him, too, that I commit Ardian the Dwarf to his care. They for great sorrow could make him no answer. Then Amadis embraced them, and commended them to God, saying that he never thought to see them more, and he forbade them to follow him; and with that spurred his horse and rode away, forgetting to take either shield, or helmet, or spear. He struck into the mountain, going whither his horse would. Thus he kept till midnight, being utterly lost in thought; the horse came then to a little stream of water, and proceeded upward to find a place so deep that he could drink thereat. The branches struck Amadis in the face, and so recalled him to himself, and he looked round, and seeing nothing but thickets, rejoiced, thinking that he was hidden in that solitude. So he alighted, and fastened his horse to a tree, and sate upon the green herb by, and wept till his head became giddy, and he fell asleep. _CHAPTER 4._