Then, in turn, to him she cried, "Aucassin, of noble race, Freeman born, and proud of place, Why should you complain and grieve, Because you must your sweetheart leave? Your father fain would burn me, And all your kinsmen spurn me. From you, my darling love, I flee: I shall go and cross the sea, In other lands than this to be." Then she cut off her golden hair, And threw it to her lover there. Each heavy lock, each pretty curl, Aucassin in rapture prest, And hid them on his panting breast, While he wept in his despair For his darling girl. [_Now they speak it, and talk it, and tell it._] Now, when Aucassin heard Nicolette say that she going to another country, he was very much distressed. "My darling sweetheart," he said, "you shall never go; for that would be to give me my death-blow, and the most cruel death-blow of all. The first man that saw you would take you for his own; and, when I heard that, I should plunge my knife into my heart. No, I would not do that! I would run with all my might against a wall or a rock, and I would throw myself head first upon it, with such a plunge, that my eyes should spring out, and I would brain myself. I would rather by a hundred times die such a death, than know that you belonged to any other man!" "Aucassin," replied Nicolette, "I do not believe that you love me as much as you say; but I am quite sure that I love you more than you love me." "Never!" replied Aucassin. "Oh, my darling sweetheart! you cannot love me more than I love you. No woman can love man as man loves woman; for woman's love is in her eye, it is in the tip of her toe, and the end of her finger: but man's love is in the bottom of his heart, and so firmly does it grow there, that it can never be uprooted." So did Aucassin and Nicolette talk together when the watchmen of the town came up by the next street, with their swords hidden under their cloaks. Now, the Count Garin had bidden these people kill Nicolette if they could take her; and just as they were coming up where they would see her, and run to seize her, the lookout on the tower saw them. "What a pity," cried he, "to kill so pretty a girl as this! It would be a mercy to warn her before these wretches see her. For, as soon as they kill her, my boy Aucassin will die; and that would be a pity, _certes!_" [_Now they sing it._]