'I have sworn to go,' he said. 'I am to have great farms and a great
man shall watch over thee to keep thee virtuous. They have promised it
or I had not gone.'
'Do you believe their promises?' she asked derisively.
'Why, 'tis a good knave, yon Viridus. He promised or ever I asked it.'
He was on his knees before her as she sat, with his arms about her
waist.
'Sha't not cry, dear dove,' he mumbled. 'Sha't go with me to Paris.'
She sighed:
'No, no. Bide here,' and passed her hand through his ruffled hair.
'I would slay thee an thou were false to me,' he whispered over her
hand. 'Get thee with me.'
She said, 'No, no,' again in a stifled voice.
He cried urgently:
'Come! Come! By all our pacts. By all our secret vows.'
She shook her head, sobbing:
'Poor fool. Poor fool. I am very lonely.'
He clutched her tightly and whispered in a hoarse voice:
'It were merrier at home now. Thou didst vow. At home now. Of a
summer's night....'