But the young knight stuck fast at Puysange, for all that, and he and
Melite were much together. Daily they made parties to dance, and to hunt
the deer, and to fish, but most often to rehearse songs. For Adhelmar
made good songs.

[Footnote: Nicolas indeed declares of Adhelmar, earlier in the tale, in
such high terms as are not uncommon to this chronicle:

Hardi estait et fier comme lions,
Et si faisait balades et chancons,
Rondeaulx et laiz, tres bans et pleins de grace,
Comme Orpheus, cet menestrier de Thrace.]

To-day, the summer already stirring in the womb of the year, they sat, as
I have said, in the hedged garden; and about them the birds piped and
wrangled over their nest-building, and daffodils danced in spring's honor
with lively saltations, and overhead the sky was colored like a robin's
egg. It was very perilous weather for young folk. By reason of this, when
he had ended his reading about the lady of the hollow hill, Sir Adhelmar
sighed again, and stared at his companion with hungry eyes, wherein
desire strained like a hound at the leash.

Said Melite, "Was this Lady Venus, then, exceedingly beautiful?"

Adhelmar swore an oath of sufficient magnitude that she was.

Whereupon Melite, twisting her fingers idly and evincing a sudden
interest in her own feet, demanded if this Venus were more beautiful than
the Lady Ermengarde of Arnaye or the Lady Ysabeau of Brieuc.