He came, and she fenced him off.
'Richard, O Richard, touch me not!' 'God on the Cross, what is this ?' 'Touch me not, touch me never; but never leave me!' 'O my pale rose! O fair-girdled!' She stood up, white as her gown, transfigured, very serious.
'I am not thy wife, Richard; I am no man's wife.

No, but I am thy slave, bound to thee by a curse, held from thee by thy high calling.

I dare not leave thee, my Richard, nor dare stay by thee so close, lest ruin come of it.' Richard watched her, frowning.

He was much moved, but thought of what she said.
'Ruin, Jehane, ruin ?' 'Ruin of thy venture, my knight of God! Ah, chosen, elect, comrade of the Rood, gossip of Jesus Christ, duke dedicate!' She was hued like flame as the great thoughts leaped in her.

'Ah, my Christian King, it is so little a thing I ask of thee, to set me apart! What am I to thee, whose bride is the virgin city, the holy place?
What is Jehane, a poor thing handed about, to vex heaven, or be a stumbling-block in the way of the Cross?
Put me away, Richard, let me go; have done with me, sweet lord.' And then swiftly she ran and clasped his knees: 'But ask me not to leave thee--no, but I dare not indeed!' Her tears streamed freely now.