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art thou that speakest with me? Who? I cannot be made to tell this story with living tongue. I will make thee kill me at mine own wish; like a despised letter, easily shalt thou tear me.
238. "Think not that death would be suffering to me, for it would free me from weeping; it is the drier-up of the ford[1] of tears; the whole world seems to me as straw, even so do I weigh it;[2] I know not who thou art, that I should tell thee trusty words?"
239. The knight said (to himself): "Thus shall I not make her speak, I must think of some other way; it is better to ponder the matter." He let her go, and sat down apart; he wept, he began to shed tears. He said to the maiden: "I have angered thee; now I know not, alas! how I shall survive."[3]
240. The maiden sat morose, she is sulky, she is not yet sweetened. Avt'handil sits below weeping; no longer does he speak. In the rose-garden the pool of tears is dammed up. The maiden, too, weeps over yonder, her heart softening towards him.
241. She pitied the weeping knight, therefore her hot tears flowed, but she sat, strange to the stranger, she spake not. The knight perceived that her hasty thoughts towards him were calmed; with flowing tears he entreated her; he arose and bent his knee before her.
242. He said: "I know that now I am by no means worthy to hope from thee[4]; I have angered thee; I remain a stranger to thee and thus lonely; yet even now I have hope for myself from thee, for it is said that sin shall be forgiven unto seven times.
243. "Though my beginning in service has pleased thee ill, it is fitting to pity the lover; understand thou this: from any other, whomsoever, I can have no aid, none is
