In which time he was missed of his Ganymede, who mused greatly, with
Aliena, what should become of their forester. Somewhile they thought
he had taken some word unkindly, and had taken the pet; then they
imagined some new love had withdrawn his fancy, or happily that he was
sick, or detained by some great business of Gerismond's, or that he
had made a reconcilement with his brother, and so returned to
Bordeaux.
These conjectures did they cast in their heads, but specially
Ganymede, who, having love in her heart, proved restless, and half
without patience, that Rosader wronged her with so long absence; for
Love measures every minute, and thinks hours to be days, and days to
be months, till they feed their eyes with the sight of their desired
object. Thus perplexed lived poor Ganymede, while on a day, sitting
with Aliena in a great dump,[1] she cast up her eye, and saw where
Rosader came pacing towards them with his forest bill on his neck. At
that sight her color changed, and she said to Aliena:
"See, mistress, where our jolly forester comes."
[Footnote 1: despondency.]
"And you are not a little glad thereof," quoth Aliena, "your nose
bewrays what porridge you love: the wind cannot be tied within his
quarter, the sun shadowed with a veil, oil hidden in water, nor love
kept out of a woman's looks: but no more of that, _Lupus est in
fabula_.
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