"Ah," cried the knight, "for God's love, have pity, Sire. I know not what I ought to say, nor what will become of me; but I would rather die than lose what lose I shall if she only hears that you have the truth, and that you heard it from my lips, whilst I am a living man."
The Duke made answer,
"I swear to you by my body and my soul, and on the faith and love I owe you again by reason of your homage, that never in my life will I tell the tale to any creature born, or even breathe a word or make a sign about the business."
With the tears yet running down his face the knight said to him,
"Sire, right or wrong, now will I show my secret. I love your niece of Vergi, and she loves me, so that no friends can love more fondly."
"If you wish to be believed," replied the Duke, "tell me now, if any, save you two alone, knows anything of this joy?"
And the knight made answer to him,
"Nay, not a creature in the world."
Then said the Duke,
"No love is so privy as that. If none has heard thereof, how do you meet together, and how devise time and place?"
"By my faith, Sire, I will tell you all, and keep back nothing, since you know so much of our counsel."
So he related the whole story of his goings to and fro within the pleasaunce; of that first covenant with his friend, and of the office of the little dog.
Then said the Duke,
"I require of you that I may be your comrade at such fair meeting. When you go again to the orchard, I too, would enter therein, and mark for myself the success of your device. As for my niece she shall perceive naught."
