Then Martimor cried, "Never while I live shalt
thou mar the Mill or have the Maid, thou foul, black,
misbegotten churl!" So he returned to the Mill, and there the
damsel Lirette made him to understand that these three churls
were long time enemies of the Mill, and sought ever to destroy
it and to do despite to her and her father. One of them was
Ignis, and another was Ventus, and these were the twain that
he had smitten. But the third, that fled down the river (and
he was ever the fiercest and the most outrageous), his name
was Flumen, for he dwelt in the caves of the stream, and was
the master of it before the Mill was built.

"And now," wept the Maid, "he must have had his will with
me and with the Mill, but for God's mercy, thanked be our Lord
Jesus!"

"Thank me too," said Mlartimor.

"So I do," said Lirette, and she kissed him. "Yet am I
heavy at heart and fearful, for my father is sorely mishandled
and his arm is broken, so that he cannot tend the Mill nor
guard it. And Flumen is escaped; surely he will harm us
again. Now I know not, where I shall look for help."

"Why not here?" said Martimor.

Then Lirette looked him in the face, smiling a little
sorrily. "But thou ridest in a quest," quoth she, "thou mayst
not stay from thy adventures"