Next day she came to him at noon, bearing as always the little basket. It contained to-day a napkin, some garlic, a ham, and a small soft cheese; some shalots, salt, nuts, wild apples, lettuce, onions, and mushrooms. "Behold a feast!" said Richard. He noted then that she carried also a blue pitcher filled with thin wine, and two cups of oak-bark. She thanked him for last night's performance, and drank a mouthful of wine to his health.
"Decidedly, I shall be sorry to have done with shepherding," said Richard as he ate.
Branwen answered, "I too shall be sorry, lord, when the masquerade is ended." And it seemed to Richard that she sighed, and he was the happier.
But he only shrugged. "I am the wisest person unhanged, since I comprehend my own folly. Yet I grant you that he was wise, too, the minstrel of old time that sang: 'Over wild lands and tumbling seas flits Love, at will, and maddens the heart and beguiles the senses of all whom he attacks, whether his quarry be some monster of the ocean or some fierce denizen of the forest, or man; for thine, O Love, thine alone is the power to make playthings of us all.'"
"Your bard was wise, no doubt, yet it was not in such terms that Gwyllem sang of this passion. Lord," she demanded shyly, "how would you sing of love?"
Richard was replete and contented with the world. He took up the lute, in full consciousness that his compliance was in large part cenatory. "In courtesy, thus--"
"The gods in honor of fair Branwen's worth Bore gifts to her:--and Jove, Olympus' lord, Co-rule of Earth and Heaven did accord, And Hermes brought that lyre he framed at birth, And Venus her famed girdle (to engirth A fairer beauty now), and Mars his sword, And wrinkled Plutus half the secret hoard And immemorial treasure of mid-earth;--
"And while the careful gods were pondering Which of these goodly gifts the goodliest was, Young Cupid came among them carolling And proffered unto her a looking-glass, Wherein she gazed, and saw the goodliest thing That Earth had borne, and Heaven might not surpass."
"Three sounds are rarely heard," said Branwen; "and these are the song of the birds of Rhiannon, an invitation to feast with a miser, and a speech of wisdom from the mouth of a Saxon. The song you have made of courtesy is tinsel. Sing now in verity."