He spake and parted.

in awe,

Wroth but all For twenty strokes of the blood, without a word,

Linger'd that other, staring after him; Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad

About the maid of Astolat, and her love. All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were loosed:

"The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat." Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and all

Had marvel what the maid might be, but most

Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame

Came suddenly on the Queen with the

sharp news.

She, that had heard the noise of it before, But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so low,

Marr'd her friend's point with pale tranquillity.

So ran the tale like fire about the court, Fire in dry stubble a nine days' wonder flared:

Till ev'n the knights at banquet twice or thrice

Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen,

And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid Smiled at each other, while the Queen who sat

With lips severely placid felt the knot Climb in her throat, and with her feet|

Sweet father, I behold him in my dreams Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself, Death-pale, for lack of gentle maiden'said. The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound,

My father, to be sweet and serviceable To noble knights in sickness, as ye know, When these have worn their tokens: let me hence

I pray you." Then her father nodding said,

"Ay, ay, the diamond: wit you well, my child,

Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole,

Being our greatest: yea, and you must give it

And sure I think this fruit is hung too high For any mouth to gape for save a Queen's— Nay, I mean nothing: so then, get you

How fares my lord Sir Lancelot?" He amazed,

"Torre and Elaine ! why here? Sir Lancelot!

How know ye my lord's name is Lancelot?" But when the maid had told him all her tale,

Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his moods

Left them, and under the strange-statued gate,

Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically,

Past up the still rich city to his kin, His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot;

And her, Lavaine across the poplar grove Led to the caves: there first she saw the

"Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest." What might she mean by that? his large black eyes,

Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her,

Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself In the heart's colors on her simple face ; And Lancelot look'd and was perplext in mind,

And being weak in body said no more; But did not love the color; woman's love, Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd

Sighing, and feign'd a sleep until he slept.

Closest and sweetest, and had died the death

In any knightly fashion for her sake. And peradventure had he seen her first She might have made this and that other world

Another world for the sick man ; but now The shackles of an old love straiten'd him,

His honor rooted in dishonor stood,
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true.

Yet the great knight in his mid-sickness made

Full many a holy vow and pure resolve. These, as but born of sickness, could not live:

For when the blood ran lustier in him again,

Full often the sweet image of one face, Making a treacherous quiet in his heart, Dispersed his resolution like a cloud.

grace

Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he answer'd

not,

Or short and coldly, and she knew right well

What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant

She knew not, and the sorrow dimm'd

her sight,

And drave her ere her time across the fields
Far into the rich city, where alone
She murmur'd "vain, in vain: it can-
not be.

He will not love me: how then? must
I die."

Then as a little helpless innocent bird, That has but one plain passage of few notes, Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er For all an April morning, till the ear Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid Went half the night repeating, "must I die?"

And now to right she turn'd, and now to left,

But to be with you still, to see your face, To serve you, and to follow you thro' the world."

And Lancelot answer'd, "Nay, the world, the world,

All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue To blare its own interpretation- nay, Full ill then should I quit your brother's love,

And your good father's kindness." And she said

"Not to be with you, not to see your faceAlas for me then, my good days are done." Nay, noble maid," he answer'd, “ten times nay!

66

This is not love: but love's first flash in youth,

Most common: yea I know it of mine own self:

And you yourself will smile at your own

self

I fear me, that will strike my blossom dead. Too courteous are you, fair Lord Lancelot. I pray you, use some rough discourtesy To blunt or break her passion." Lancelot said,

"That were against me: what I can I will";

And there that day remain'd, and toward

even

Sent for his shield: full meekly rose the maid,

Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield;

Then, when she heard his horse upon the stones,

Unclasping flung the casement back, and look'd

Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had gone.

And Lancelot knew the little clinking sound;

And she by tact of love was well aware That Lancelot knew that she was looking at him.

And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his hand,

Nor bade farewell, but sadly rode away. This was the one discourtesy that he used.