She marked neither the knight nor the squire, who stood shading his eyes with his hand in order to see her the better.
Hot rage took possession of the heart of Wendelin when he saw the tears rain down from the lady's large eyes onto her gown, which was already as wet as if she had just been drawn from the lake.
When the knight noticed this, an overwhelming pity chased the anger from his heart, and George, who was a soft-hearted man, sobbed aloud at her pitiful appearance.

The voice of the knight, too, was unsteady as he called to the fair prisoner that he was a German, Wendelin by name, and that he had set out on a knightly quest to kill dragons, and to draw his sword for all who were oppressed.

He had already conquered in many combats, and nothing would please him better than to fight for her.
At this she ceased to weep, but she shook her head gently--her hair being chained impeded her motion,--and answered sadly.

"My enemy is too powerful.

You are young and beautiful, and the darling, perhaps, of a loving mother at home, I cannot bear that you should suffer the same fate as the others.