"Do you know him?" they all asked. "I have a shrewd suspicion who he is; and I pray God for good tidings of him." "By my head," said Gawaine, "I should be sorry enough to see harm come to one that can handle spear and sword like him. He cannot be far away, and if he is to be found I shall find him." "Fortune aid you in the quest," said the king. Then Gawaine took a squire, and they rode in all directions for six or seven miles around Camelot, but could learn nothing of the missing knight. Two days afterwards Arthur and his fellowship set out on their return to London. On their way they passed through Astolat, and here it happened that Gawaine lodged with Sir Bernard, Lancelot's former host. He was well received, and the old baron and his fair daughter begged him earnestly for tidings of the tournament, being specially eager to know who had done best there. "Two knights bore all before them," said Gawaine. "Both carried white shields, and one wore on his helmet a red sleeve, as some fair lady's token. Never saw I a man before do such mighty deeds, and his fellow seconded him nobly." "Blessed be God that that knight did so well," broke out Elaine, "for he is the first man I ever loved, and shall be the last." "You know him then?" said Gawaine. "Pray tell me his name." "That I know not, nor whence he came; but this I truly know, that I love him, and that the token he wore was mine. This, and this only, I can justly affirm." "This is a strange story," said Gawaine. "What knowledge have you of him? and how came you to know him?" In response, she told him how the knight had left his shield with her, and taken that of her brother, with what else she knew. "I would thank you much for a sight of that shield," said Gawaine. "I have it in my chamber, covered with a case, and will send for it," said Elaine. When the shield was brought Gawaine removed the case, and at sight he knew it to be Lancelot's shield. "Ah, mercy!" said Gawaine, "the sight of this makes my heart heavy." "Why so?" she demanded. "For good cause," he answered. "Is the owner of this shield your love?" "Truly so," she replied. "I love him dearly; would to God he loved me as dearly." "Then must I say that you have given your love to the noblest and most renowned knight in the world." "So it seemed to me; for he carries a noble soul in his face." "This I may say," said Gawaine. "I have known this knight for more than twenty years, and never knew him before to wear a woman's token at joust or tournament. You owe him thanks, indeed, that he wore yours. Yet I dread greatly that you will never see him again, and it is for this that my heart is heavy." "Why say you so?" she cried, starting up with pallid face. "Is he hurt? Is he slain?" "Not slain; but sadly hurt. This more it is my duty to tell you: he is the noble knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake. I know him by his shield." "Lancelot! Can this be so? And his hurt--who gave it? Is it really perilous?"