Sister, farewell. LAUNCELOT Peace come to you, Elaine. Kind host, again farewell. In the white fire Of her young heart be grief consumed away. [_Exeunt_ LAUNCELOT _and_ LAVAINE. SIR BERNARD Brave, sweet; look up! TORRE Oh, father, she will die. SECOND SCENE _A room in the Palace at London. At the back a colonnade, through which is seen a rose hedge. The_ KING _and_ SIR BEDIVERE: ARTHUR _pacing up and down_. ARTHUR No news yet, Bedivere? BEDIVERE Our messengers return with silent faces. It is as if the earth had swallowed him. ARTHUR Launcelot lost!... This victory, Bedivere, Was not as the old days. Something baulked us, something Like an invisible impediment-- I felt it round me--something that unnerved What should have been a hammer-stroke. Almost, But for my suddenness, it was defeat. BEDIVERE I had not hazarded to broach a thought Sprung from surmises only; but my King Has spoken; therefore, may I speak? ARTHUR Hide nothing. BEDIVERE If rumours breathed about the camp be true, There was some treason. ARTHUR I felt it in the air, Like fog on a sour wind. Tell me more. BEDIVERE Sir, I cannot speak but on a dark report, And hardly now dare tell. ARTHUR Hide nothing. Speak. BEDIVERE The name that men have whispered in the night Is the name of Mordred. ARTHUR My own sister’s son! In my own house, treason! BEDIVERE It may be nothing, But one I sent on a night-errand saw A man disguised and muffled stealing up From where the rebels lay. A camp-fire chanced To blaze up on a sudden out of smoke. The face was Mordred’s. ARTHUR Mordred, false to me! Treachery in my own house, Bedivere. BEDIVERE Mordred is ever fair and frank in speech, Looks you in the eyes and smiles. And in the battle, Though he’s no hungry fighter, he fought well; And, after, cheered our victory. And yet There is a hushing upon Mordred’s name As if it curtained secrets. Sir, I fear him; I cannot tell why. ARTHUR There is power in him. BEDIVERE He keeps a kind of hidden confidence, That is a magnet to unstable men. ARTHUR I never wronged him. Treason? For what cause? Envy’s a cause. Ambition is a cause. (GUENEVERE _enters_.) The marshals of the jousts That are to celebrate our victory Attend the King in Council. ARTHUR Say I come. [_Exit_ BEDIVERE. (_Absorbed in his own thoughts_, ARTHUR _does not notice the_ QUEEN.)