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Yes! for sure I was twenty again, for the performance of these simple services for Nicolete gave me a thrill of pure boyish pleasure such as I had never expected to feel again.
In my dilemma, I caught sight of a pretty book lying near her fishing-basket, and diverted the talk by venturing to ask its name. "'T is of Aucassin and Nicolete," she replied, with something in her voice which seemed to imply that the tender old story would be familiar to me. My memory served me for once gallantly. I answered by humming half to myself the lines from the prologue,
Nor were poets and romancers from over sea in their seeming simple paper covers, but with, oh, such complicated and subtle insides! absent from the court which Nicolete held here in the greenwood. Never was such a nest of singing-birds.
The chief difficulty I hardly like mentioning; and if the Obstacle had not been present, I certainly dare not have spoken of it to Nicolete. I mean that she was so shy about her pretty legs. She couldn't cross them with any successful nonchalance. "You must take your legs more for granted, dear Nicolete," I summoned courage to say.
Indeed, a love for any one of these significant writers will be enough, not to speak of an admiration for "Aucassin and Nicolete." Now, Nicolete and I soon found that we had all these and many another writer in common, and before our lunch was ended we were nearer to each other than many old friends.
A carriage with arms on its panels had stopped at the inn, and as a smart footman opened the door, a fine grey-headed military-looking man stepped out and strode hurriedly up the inn steps. "Aucassin," gasped Nicolete, "it is my father!" It was too true. The old man's keen eye had caught sight of Nicolete at the window also, and in another moment we were all three face to face.
He, I think, will understand why I didn't promptly assault the Major-General, seize Nicolete by the waist, thrust her into her ancestral carriage, haul the coachman from his box, and, seizing the reins, drive away in triumph before astonishment had time to change into pursuit.
I ought to have enjoyed every moment there; but it is never pleasant to be with a man when you think he is wishing that you were another girl. "Was she pretty?" I couldn't resist asking. For an instant he looked bewildered; then he understood. "Very," he replied, smiling. "About the prettiest girl I ever saw. The description of Nicolete would fit her very well.
Together with the Chanson de Roland though in such an infinitely different style Aucassin et Nicolete represents the most valuable elements in the French poetry of this early age.
We couldn't go into the château, but perhaps it was better to see it only from the outside, and remember it always in a crystal picture, framed with the turquoise of the sky. Besides, not going in gave us more time for Beaucaire, just across the river Beaucaire of the Fair; Beaucaire of sweet Nicolete and her faithful lover Aucassin.
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