“You know that I love you,” answered Gaucelm, and put his hand upon her head. “If you do, then it is all safe.” Gaucelm slightly laughed. In the sound was both amusement and anger. “But my guest the duke,” he said, “does not love you.” “He loves me most vilely!” said the ugly princess with energy. Prince Gaucelm mused. “Shall I show offence or no? I have not decided.” “Why show offence?” said the ugly princess. “I am as I am, and he is as he is. Let him go, with smiles and a stirrup-cup, and a ‘Fair lord, well met and well parted!’” “He is a foolish man.” “There are many such—and women. Let him go. I grudge him no happiness, nor a fair wife.” The ugly princess rose from the floor and went and stood by the window. Doves that Gaucelm cherished flew from their cote in the court below across and across the opening. One came and sat upon the sill and preened its feathers. “This question of fairness has many aspects,” said Gaucelm the Fortunate. “The cover in which you are clad is not so bad!—Well, let us take it that this great baron is gone.” “I will make an offering to Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne! But I will thank you, too,—and most, I think.” “It rests,” said Gaucelm, “that you must marry.” “Ah, must I so surely?” Prince Gaucelm regarded her ponderingly, with bent brows. “What is there else for women? You will not be a nun?” “Not I!” “Fief by fief,” said Gaucelm, “Roche-de-Frêne was built, now by conquest and now by alliance. If I have no son, you are my heir. There is a bell that rings in all men’s ears. _Make for your heir betimes a prudent marriage, adding land to land, gold to gold!_” “Does it ring so joyously in your ears? It does not ring joyously in mine. No, nor with a goodly, solemn sound!” “It is the world’s way,” said the prince. “I do not know if it is the right way.” The Princess Audiart watched the dove, iris against the morning sky, then turned, full face, to her father. “I am not fair,” she said. “Men who want just that will never want me. It seems to me also that I am not loving. At times, when I listen to what they say, I want to laugh. I can see great love. But it seems to me that what they see is not great love.... Well, but we marry without love! Well, it seems to me that that is very irksome!—Well, but you may have a knight to love, so that it be courtly love and your lord’s honour goes unhurt! Well, it seems to me that that is children’s love.—I wish not to marry, but to stay here and learn and learn and learn, and with you rule and serve Roche-de-Frêne!” In the distance a horn was winded. The mounting sun struck strongly upon the roofs of Roche-de-Frêne. The dove spread its wings and flew down to its cote. Voices and a sound of trampling hoofs came from the court, and a nearer trumpet blew.