At these times, Ludar was a brother to me. He came often to see me, and talked so cheerily, that I almost forgot how solemn his looks used to be. More than that, he fetched me dainties to eat, without which I might have starved; for, while the fever lasted, I could not stomach the strong ship's fare. And I suspected more than once that he had secured my peace from the captain by offering himself to do a good piece of my work as well as his own. He spoke little enough about the maiden, though I longed to hear of her. Once, when I asked him, his face grew overcast. "That maiden," said he, "is never so merry as when the waves are breaking over the deck. Yet I see her little, for, in sooth, the old nurse has been nearer death than you, and will allow no one to go near her but her young mistress. Nor dare I offer myself where I am not bidden. Humphrey," added he, "I prefer to talk of something else." Now, I must tell you that, to my surprise, I found I had another friend in these dark days; I mean the poet. Contemptible as was my plight, and mean as was the cabin I hid in, when he heard I was ill, he came more than once to see me. It suited him to make a mighty to do about it, as if his condescension must heal me on the spot. Yet the kindness that was in him, and the wonder he afforded me, made up for all these airs and graces. "Alack and well a day!" exclaimed he, when he first came. "Vulcan hath fallen from the clouds and lieth halting below. The apple which was rosy is become green, and the Dutchman who of late flew is now become ship's ballast. Nay, my poor ruin, thank me not for coming; 'tis the common debt the high oweth to the low, the sound to the broken, the poem to the prose; nay, 'tis the duty a knight oweth to his lady's humblest menial." "And how is the lady?" said I; for I wearied to hear of her, even from any lips. "Hast thou seen the swan with wings new dressed float on the summer tide? Hast thou heard the thrush, full-throated, call his mate across the lea? Hast thou watched the moon soar up the heavens, sweeping aside the clouds, and defying the mists of earth? Hast thou marked, my Dutchman, the summer laughter on a field of golden corn? Hast thou tracked the merry breeze along the ripples of a dazzled ocean?--" "Yes, yes," said I, "but what has that to do with the maiden we speak of?" He smiled on me pityingly. "Such, poor youth, is she; and such, methinks, am I become, who sit at her feet and sun myself in her light--" "'Tis dark down here," I said, "but you seem to me neither swan, nor thrush, nor moon, nor a corn field, nor an ocean. But I thank you, even as you are, for coming." "'Tis a sign of a sound mind," said he, "when gratitude answereth to graciousness. And now, prithee, how do you do?" I told him I was better, and that I might not have mended so far, but for my dear master, Sir Ludar. Then he bridled up and his cheeks coloured.