In the same times was a Count of St. Pol, who held all the country, and was lord thereof, and a man much valiant. He had no heir of his flesh, whereof he was sore grieving; but a sister he had, a much good dame, and a valiant woman of much avail, who was Dame of Dontmart in Ponthieu. The said dame had a son, Thibault by name, who was heir of the country of St. Pol, but a poor man so long as his uncle lived; he was a brave knight and a valiant, and good at arms: noble he was, and goodly, and was much honoured and loved of good folk; for a high man he was, and gentle of blood. Now the Count of Ponthieu, with whom beginneth this tale, had a wife, a much good dame: of the said dame he had a daughter, much good and of much avail, the which waxed in great beauty and multiplied in much good; and she was of well sixteen years of age. But within the third year of her birth, her mother died, whereof sore troubled she was and much sorrowful. The Count, her father, wedded him right speedily thereafter, and took a high lady and a gentle; and in a little while the Count had of the said lady a son, whom he loved much. The said son waxed in great worth and in great goodness, and multiplied in great good. The Count of Ponthieu, who was a valiant man, saw my lord Thibault of Dontmart, and summoned him, and retained him of his meney; and when he had him of his meney he was much joyous thereat, for the Count multiplied in great good and in great avail by means of him. As they returned from a tournament, the Count called to him Messire Thibault, and asked of him and said: “Thibault, as God may help thee, tell me what jewel of my land thou lovest the best?” “Sir,” said Messire Thibault, “I am but a poor man, but, as God may help me, of all the jewels of thy land I love none so much as my damosel, thy daughter.” The Count, when he heard that, was much merry and joyful in his heart, and said: “Thibault, I will give her to thee if she will.” “Sir,” said he, “much great thank have thou; God reward thee.” Then went the Count to his daughter, and said to her: “Fair daughter, I have married thee, save by thee be any hindrance.” “Sir,” said she, “unto whom?” “A-God’s name,” said he, “to a much valiant man, of much avail: to a knight of mine, who hath to name Thibault of Dontmart.” “Ha,” sir, said she, “if thy country were a kingdom, and should come to me all wholly, forsooth I should hold me right well wedded in him.” “Daughter,” said the Count, “blessed be thine heart, and the hour wherein thou wert born.” So the wedding was done; the Count of Ponthieu and the Count of St. Pol were thereat, and many another good valiant man. With great joy were they assembled, in great lordship and in great mirth: and in great joy dwelt those together for five years. But it pleased not our Lord Jesus Christ that they should have an heir of their flesh, which was a heavy matter to both of them.