I hear that Sir Lancelot of the Lake is not going to compete this year for the Diamond on account of his health. I am so sorry. The people here say he is afraid of being beaten, and that there is a wonderful new knight called Lamorack who is better than everybody. Isn’t it absurd? People are so spiteful. How you must miss the dear King, and you must be so lonely at Camelot without any of the knights. By the way, is it true that Sir Lancelot is engaged to Elaine, the daughter of the Lord of Astolat? She is quite lovely, but I never thought that Lancelot cared for young girls. I think she is only sixteen. Your loving ISEULT OF CORNWALL. _Guinevere to Lancelot_ _Whit-Sunday._ The King has just told me whose sleeve it was you wore to-day. I now understand everything, and I must say I did not suspect you of playing this kind of double game. I do hate lies and liars, and, above all, stupid liars. It is, of course, very humiliating to make such a mistake about a man. But I hope you will be happy with Elaine, and I pray Heaven she may never find you out. GUINEVERE. KING LEAR’S DAUGHTER _Letter from Goneril, Daughter of King Lear, to her sister Regan_ I have writ my sister. _King Lear_, Act I, Scene iv. THE PALACE, _November_. Dearest Regan, I am sending you this letter by Oswald. We have been having the most trying time lately with Papa, and it ended to-day in one of those scenes which are so painful to people like you and me, who _hate_ scenes. I am writing now to tell you all about it, so that you may be prepared. This is what has happened. When Papa came here he brought a hundred knights with him, which is a great deal more than we could put up, and some of them had to live in the village. The first thing that happened was that they quarrelled with our people and refused to take orders from them, and whenever one told any one to do anything it was either--if it was one of Papa’s men--“not his place to do it”; or if it was one of our men, they said that Papa’s people made work impossible. For instance, only the day before yesterday I found that blue vase which you brought back from Dover for me on my last birthday broken to bits. Of course I made a fuss, and Oswald declared that one of Papa’s knights had knocked it over in a drunken brawl. I complained to Papa, who flew into a passion and said that his knights, and in fact all his retainers, were the most peaceful and courteous people in the world, and that it was my fault, as I was not treating him or them with the respect which they deserved. He even said that I was lacking in filial duty. I was determined to keep my temper, so I said nothing.