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Duke of Picardy had dreamt of a woman so radiant
that her beauty would not fade with the sun.
Late one evening, while out riding his steed,
the Duke spotted Claire de Lune, a nymph,
dancing in a meadow under the silver light
of the moon. Enchanted, the Duke charged after
her, but the wily nymph ran into the forest.
Recklessly plowing through the tangled grove,
the Duke collided with an overhanging tree
branch, throwing him from his horse.
Undaunted, the Duke scrambled to his feet,
chasing the fleeting glimpse of Claire's flowing
gown. She seemed to disappear behind one tree
trunk - only to reappear from behind another.
Still, the Duke followed.
Deep within the dark forest, the Duke found
himself surrounded by nymphs, each possessing
her own mysterious charms. But the Duke only
had eyes for Claire. The other nymphs were
rendered invisible to him, and the Duke found
Claire, begging her to marry him.
At last, she relented, but only on the condition
that he never question her or ask where she
goes. Thoroughly bewitched, the Duke agreed.
The
wedding night for the Duke and Claire was
magical, and the magic continued night after
night. Friends and servants of the Duke declared
that they had never seen him so happy. But
one evening, as the moon began to wane, the
Duke awoke to find Claire was no longer with
him. He cried out for her, but she did not
answer.
In the ensuing days, he could think of nothing
but her. He longed for her. Each night, he
prayed for her return.
And just as a sliver of moon was reborn in
the sky, the Duke felt a presence behind him.
He turned to find his beloved Claire. He was
so overjoyed to see her that he kept his promise
not to question her. But the cycle continued,
each month Claire disappearing with the waning
moon only to reappear as the moon awakened
in the sky.
The Duke grew increasingly disturbed by the
pattern. Where was she going, he wondered?
What was she doing? And with whom? He became
convinced that she had found another lover.
But how could he question her, for he remembered
his promise. He vowed that he would not be
made a fool of and settled upon a plan.
Under the gray light of the dying moon, the
Duke only pretended to fall asleep. He followed
Claire as she slipped away, keeping his distance
so as not to arouse her suspicion. But it
is not an easy thing to sneak up on a nymph
in the forest. The Duke became lost in the
darkness and growth, clawing his way through
the strangling branches. At last he toppled
down a steep ravine, injuring his ankle.
He tried to crawl out, but without hope of
ever finding his way - or his Claire - he
could muster no strength. He resigned to die
then and there, cold and alone. But Claire
pitied him. Taking him by the hand, she led
him to the edge of the forest where she confronted
him, crying out that he had ruined everything
with his lack of faith. Then, she disappeared
into the vapor.
The Duke made his way home, but could find
no solace inside his great castle. He slept
long and often, for in his dreams he was again
with Claire. But when he awoke to find her
missing, he wished he had not dreamed at all.
He would take no food, nor strong drink. Soon,
he could not find the strength to rise from
his bed. His servants began making arrangements
for his funeral. His friends and family divided
up his possessions.
Then one evening, under the mock daylight
of a blazing full moon, he heard the voice
of his beloved singing in the forest. He could
not see her, but he knew that it was Claire.
The strength returned to his arms and legs,
and he bounded from his bed racing into the
forest, never to be heard from again.
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