Among
these was a beautiful and high-born maiden whom I knew by sight. Her
father was Sir Robert Aleys who, I believe, was then the Warden of the
Castle of Pevensey, and she was named the lady Blanche. Once, indeed, I
had spoken with her on an occasion too long to tell. Then her large blue
eyes, which she knew well how to use, had left me with a swimming head,
for she was very fair and very sweet and gracious, with a most soft
voice, and quite unlike any other woman I had ever seen, nor did she
seem at all proud. Soon her father, an old knight, who had no name for
gentleness in the countryside, but was said to be a great lover of gold,
had come up and swept her away, asking her what she did, talking with a
common fishing churl. This had happened some months before.
Well, there I found her in the Castle, alone it seemed, and knowing me
again, which I thought strange, she ran to me, praying me to protect
her. More, she began to tell me some long tale, to which I had not time
to listen, of how she had come to Hastings with her father, Sir Robert,
and a young lord named Deleroy, who, I understood, was some kinsman of
hers, and slept there.
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