The sixth and last scene of the drama is laid at an inn, where the knight has sought shelter from the rain. He notices that the buxom landlady and her daughter are whispering together, and after some time recognises in the former the shepherdess of auld lang syne; very lang syne, for again six years intervene between this and the last meeting. Guiraut at once broaches his favourite topic. Hearing that the lady is a widow, he gallantly suggests: ‘Surely a woman like you ought not to be without a lover!’ She frankly confesses that there is an aspirant to her hand, but she does not feel inclined to change her condition a second time, for the very sensible reason, amongst others, that her wooer has ‘seven children all under ten.’ ‘My only comfort,’ she adds, pointing to her daughter, ‘the source of my joy, stands before you.’ This touching appeal draws the attention of the knight towards the girl, and immediately her youthful charms produce the usual effect on his inflammable heart. The sudden transfer of allegiance he excuses by the treatment he has received, and implores the daughter to make amends for the mother’s cruelty. But again he receives nothing but pretty speeches, and thus the adventure comes to a close. Another poet much connected with the pastoreta is Gui d’Uisel, a celebrated troubadour of Limousin, who belonged to the church, and ultimately is said to have abandoned his poetic pursuits by an express command of the Papal legate. In connection with two brothers and a cousin he seems to have formed a sort of co-operative society on the principle of divided artistic labour and accomplishment. ‘They were all four poets,’ the old biography says, ‘and made excellent songs. Elias (the cousin) wrote the good tensos;[11] Eble the wicked ones; and Peter sang what the other three had invented.’ Gui, as was said before, was famous for his pastoral songs, several of which are extant. They show little of Guiraut Riquier’s healthy realism, but are, on the other hand, full of quiet lyrical charm. In one of them he prettily describes the reconciliation between a shepherd and his lass, brought about by the troubadour’s own counsel. The opening stanza is perhaps unsurpassed in Provençal literature for gentle, melodious flow of verse:— L’autre jorn cost una via Auzi cantar un pastor Una canson qe dizia, ‘Mort m’an semblan traidor.’ E qant el vi qe venia Salh en pes per far m’onor, E ditz, ‘Deus sal, mo senhor, Q’er ai trobat ses bauzia Leial amic celador, A cui m’aus clamar d’amor.’[12]