To this the Count, who had already fallen deeply in love with the beautiful stranger, whose dark eyes flashed upon him with a glance at once mysterious and entrancing, replied that he was the Count of Flanders and the richest Count under Heaven. He then and there proposed to the damsel, offering to marry her at once, nor did he perceive that the wild boar he had lately slain had disappeared, and even the blood of the battle was gone, while as for the huge head that he had cut off with his own hands the palfrey upon which the Eastern princess was seated stood on the very spot. He then blew so loud a recall upon his horn that it was heard for miles through the great forest, and presently the lesser counts and knights who formed his train came riding up. To these he introduced the strange princess and, despite the prudent counsels of some that it might be well to learn more about the lady, he forthwith repaired to Cambrai where they were married in great splendour. The Countess, beautiful as she was, did not become popular, the people attributing to her the heavy taxes they had to pay. It was also whispered that she never attended the elevation of the Host at mass, always leaving before the bell was rung. Notwithstanding her unpopularity, and the gossip of the busybodies, the Count still loved his bride who bore him two children, Jeanne and Margaret, and ever remained as wonderfully beautiful as the day they first met in the forest. As they were celebrating Easter one year at Wynandael with a great feast a pilgrim arrived from the East with news that the Saracens were besieging Constantinople. He was forthwith invited into the great hall of the castle and food placed before him, which he ate eagerly. Just then the Countess entered, with a train of ladies. At sight of her the pilgrim stopped eating and trembled, while the Countess turned deadly pale and whispered to her lord to send that stranger away as he was wicked and meant only evil by coming there. But the Count bade the pilgrim say whereat he was alarmed, whereupon the stranger rose and in a loud voice bade the devil who filled the body of the Countess to depart from it. At this the Countess rose and confessed she was indeed one of the devils cast out of Paradise who had inhabited the body of the most beautiful maiden of the East, the soul having departed from it. With this confession, at which all present were naturally appalled, she rose in all her beauty before them and vanished through a window of the hall, nor was she ever seen or heard of again.