bread of affliction and the water of affliction. So it was done, even as he commanded. In this prison they lay for a space, till such time as the Count's son fell sick. His sickness was so grievous that the Count and Messire Thibault feared greatly that this sorrow was to death.
Now it came to pass that the Soudan held high Court because of the day of his birth, for such was the custom of the Saracens. After they had well eaten, the Saracens stood before the Soudan, and said,
"Sire, we require of you our right."
He inquired of what right they were speaking, and they answered,
"Sire, a Christian captive to set as a mark for our arrows."
When the Soudan heard this he gave no thought to such a trifle, but made reply,
"Get you to the prison, and take out that captive who has the least of life in him."
The Paynim hastened to the dungeon, and brought forth the Count, bearded, unkempt and foredone. The Soudan marked his melancholy case, so he said to them,
"This man has not long to live; take him hence, and do your will on him."
The wife of the Soudan, of whom you have heard, the daughter of this very Count, was in the hall, when they brought forth her father to slay him. Immediately that her eyes fell upon him the blood in her veins turned to water; not so much that she knew him as her sire, but rather that Nature tugged at her heart strings. Then spake the dame to the Soudan,
"Husband, I, too, am French, and would gladly speak with this poor wretch ere he die, if so I may."
"Wife," answered the Soudan, "truly, yes; it pleases me well."
