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CHAPTER I
HOW THE KNIGHT CAME TO THE FISHERMAN
Now it may be hundreds of years agone that there lived a worthy old fisherman: and he was seated on a fine evening before his door, mending his nets. The part of the country where he lived was right pleasant to behold. The grassy space on which his cottage stood ran far into the lake, and perchance one might well conceive that it was through love of the clear blue waters that the tongue of land had stretched itself among them; while with embrace as close and as loving the lake sent its arms round the
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