with mine. In like case I think it is not. And if my heart has
joined itself to his heart, never will it leave it, never will
his go whither without mine; for mine follows him in secret so
close is the comradeship that they have formed. But to tell the
truth the two hearts are very different and contrary. How are
they different and contrary? His is lord, and mine is slave; and
the slave, even against his own will, must do what is for his
lord's good and leave out of sight all else. But what matters it
to me? He cares nought for my heart or for my service. This
division grieves me much; for thus the one heart is lord of the
two. Why cannot mine, all alone, avail as much as his with him?
Thus the two would have been of equal strength. My heart is a
prisoner; for it cannot move unless his moves. And if his wanders
or tarries, mine ever prepares to follow and go after him. God!
Why are not our bodies so near that I could in some way have
fetched my heart back? Have fetched it back? Poor fool! If I were
to take it from where it is lodged so comfortably, I might kill
it by so doing. Let it stay there. Never do I seek to remove it;
rather do I will that it stay with its lord until pity for it
come to him; for rather there than here will he be bound to have
mercy on his servant because the two hearts are in a strange
land. If my heart knows how to serve up flattery as one is bound
to serve it up at court, it will be rich before it returns. He
who wishes to be on good terms with his lord and to sit beside
him on his right, as is now the use and custom, must feign to
pluck the feather from his lord's head, even when there is no
feather there. But here we see an evil trait: when he flatters
him to his face, and yet his lord has in his heart either
baseness or villainy, never will he be so courteous as to tell
him the truth; rather he makes him think and believe that no one