[110]
The hapless lady, seeing that the scholar's words were ever to the
same ruthless effect, burst afresh into tears, and said: "Lo, now,
since nought that pertains to me may move thee, be thou at least
moved by the love thou bearest this lady of whom thou speakest, who,
thou sayst, is wiser than I, and loves thee, and for love of her pardon me,
and fetch me my clothes, that I may resume them, and get me down
hence."
[111]
Whereat the scholar fell a laughing, and seeing that 'twas
not a little past tierce, made answer: "Lo, now, I know not how
to deny thee, adjuring me as thou dost by such a lady: tell me, then,
where thy clothes are, and I will go fetch them, and bring thee
down."
[112]
The lady, believing him, was somewhat comforted, and
told him where she had laid her clothes. The scholar then quitted
the tower, bidding his servant on no account to stir from his post,
but to keep close by, and, as best he might, bar the tower against all
comers until his return: which said, he betook him to the house of
his friend, where he breakfasted much at his ease, and thereafter
went to sleep.
[113]
Left alone upon the tower, the lady, somewhat
cheered by her fond hope, but still exceeding sorrowful, drew nigh
to a part of the wall where there was a little shade, and there sate
down to wait. And now lost in most melancholy brooding, now
dissolved in tears, now plunged in despair of ever seeing the scholar
return with her clothes, but never more than a brief while in any one
mood, spent with grief and the night's vigil, she by and by fell asleep.
[114]
The sun was now in the zenith, and smote with extreme fervour
full and unmitigated upon her tender and delicate frame, and upon
her bare head, insomuch that his rays did not only scorch but bit by
bit excoriate every part of her flesh that was exposed to them, and so
shrewdly burn her that, albeit she was in a deep sleep, the pain
awoke her.
[115]
And as by reason thereof she writhed a little, she felt
the scorched skin part in sunder and shed itself, as will happen when
one tugs at a parchment that has been singed by the fire, while her
head ached so sore that it seemed like to split, and no wonder.
[116]
Nor
might she find place either to lie or to stand on the floor of the roof,
but ever went to and fro, weeping. [117]Besides which there stirred not
the least breath of wind, and flies and gadflies did swarm in prodigious
quantity, which, settling upon her excoriate flesh, stung her so shrewdly
that 'twas as if she received so many stabs with a javelin, and she was
ever restlessly feeling her sores with her hands, and cursing herself,
her life, her lover, and the scholar.
