Again, in a romance of eight thousand verses, of the Châtelain de Couci and la Dame de Faiel (of the end of the thirteenth or the beginning of the fourteenth century), with the difference that the châtelain takes the cross, is wounded with a poisoned arrow, and dies on his way to France. (Jakemon Sakesep, Roman du Châtelain de Couci, etc., ed. Crapelet, 1829.) From this romance was derived The Knight of Curtesy and the Fair Lady of Faguell (in which the lady is chaste to her lord as is the turtle upon the tree), five hundred verses, Ritson’s Metrical Romanceës, III, 193, from an edition by William Copland, “before 1568;” also a chap-book, curiously adapted to its time, ‘The Constant but Unhappy Lovers,’ London, 1707 (cited by Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 191). Descending to tradition of the present time, we find in the adventures of Rájá Rasálu, as told in verse and prose in the north of India, surprising agreements with Boccaccio’s tale: =a=. Temple’s Legends of the Panjâb, I, 64 f., 1883. =b.= The same, III, 240 f., 1886. =c.= Swynnerton in the Folk-Lore Journal, I, 143 ff., 1883, and in The Adventures of Rájá Rasálu, 1884, pp. 130-35. =d.= Clouston, Popular Tales and Fictions, II, 192, from a book privately printed, 1851. Rájá Rasálu kills his wife’s lover, tears out his heart, =a=, heart and liver, =d=, takes of his flesh, =b=, =c=, roasts and gives to his wife to eat. She finds the meat is very good, =a=, no venison was ever so dainty, =c=. The king retorts, You enjoyed him when he was living; why should you not relish his flesh now that he is dead? and shows her the body of his rival. She leaps from the palace wall and is killed (=c= only). (Rájá Rasálu is assigned to our second century.) A Danish ballad in Syv’s collection, 1695, has one half of the story. A king has a man for whom his wife has a fancy chopped up and cooked and served to the queen. She does not eat. (‘Livsvandet,’ Grundtvig, II, 504, No 94 =A=, Prior, I, 391.) Very like the Indian and the Provençal _sage_, but with change of the parts of husband and wife, is what Mme d’Aulnoy relates as having been enacted in the Astorga family, in Spain, in the seventeenth century. The Marchioness of Astorga kills a beautiful girl of whom her husband is enamored, tears out her heart, and gives it to her husband in a stew. She asks him if the dish was to his taste, and he says, Yes. No wonder, says the wife, for it was the heart of the mistress whom you loved so much; and then produces the gory head. (Mémoires de la Cour d’Espagne, La Haye, 1691, I, 108.)