because she dreaded to be seen by him.  She did not deem herself worthy to be loved by him in honour or marriage, and, on the other hand, she would not be loved wantonly and for pleasure.  When she found that, in whatever part of the church she placed herself, the Prince heard mass close by, she would no longer go to the same church, but repaired every day to the remotest that she could find.  And when there was feasting at the castle, although the Prince’s sister often sent for her, she would no longer go thither, but excused herself on the plea of sickness.

Finding that he could not have speech with her, the Prince had recourse to his butler, and promised him great rewards if he would lend assistance in the matter.  This the butler, for the sake both of pleasing his master and of the gain that he expected, readily promised to do.  Every day he would relate to the Prince what she said or did, telling him that she was especially careful to shun all opportunities of seeing him.  However, the great desire that the Prince had of speaking with her at his ease, prompted him to devise the following plan.

One day he took his chargers, which he was beginning to manage excellently well, to a large open space in the town opposite to his butler’s house, in which Frances lived.  After making many courses and leaps which she could easily see, he let himself fall from his horse into some deep mire, but so softly that he was not hurt.  Nevertheless he uttered passably loud groans, and asked whether there was a house near in which he might change his dress.  Every one offered his own, but on some one saying that the butler’s was the nearest and worthiest, it was chosen before all the others.

He found the room well furnished, and, as all his garments were soiled with the mud, he stripped himself to his shirt, and got into a bed.  Then, when he saw that, except the gentleman aforementioned, every one was gone to bring him some clothes, he called his host and hostess and asked them where Frances was.  They had much ado to find her, for, as soon as she had seen the young Prince coming in, she had gone to hide herself in the most retired nook in the house.  Nevertheless her sister found her, and begged her not to be afraid to speak to so worshipful and virtuous a Prince.

“What! sister,” said Frances, “do you, whom I look upon as my mother, advise me to go and speak with a young lord, of whose purpose, as you are aware, I cannot be ignorant?”

However, her sister addressed so many remonstrances to her, and promised so often not to leave her alone, that she at last went with her, showing so pale and sorry a face that she seemed more likely to beget compassion than desire.

When the young Prince saw her by his bedside, he took hold of her hand, which was cold and trembling, and said to her—­