"Think not of death, Elaine. If I could marry woman it would be you, for I could love you dearly were my heart free. For your gentleness and kindness thus only can I repay you. If you can set your heart upon some worthy knight who is free to wed you, I shall give to you and your heirs a thousand pounds yearly, as some small payment of the debt I owe you." "You speak idly and coldly, Sir Lancelot. Your money I will have none of; and as for wedding, I have but the choice to wed you or wed my death." "You rend my heart, fair Elaine. Would that it could be as you wish. Alas! that can never be." At this, with a cry of heart-pain, the distressed maiden fell swooning at his feet. Thence she was borne by women to her chamber, where she lay, lamenting like one whose heart is broken. Sir Bernard now came to Lancelot, who was preparing to depart, and said,-- "Dear sir, it grieves me to find my daughter Elaine in such a distressful state. I fear she may die for your sake." "It grieves me as deeply," said Lancelot. "But what can I do? That she loves me so deeply I am sorry to learn, for I have done nothing to encourage it, as your son can testify. I know that she is a true and noble maiden, and will do all that I can for her as an honest knight; but love her as she loves me I cannot, and to wed I am forbidden. Yet her distress wounds me sorely." "Father," said Lavaine, "I dare avow that she is as pure and good as my lord Sir Lancelot has said. In loving him she does but what I do, for since I first saw him I could never depart from him; nor shall I leave him so long as he will bear my company." Then Lancelot took his leave, and he and Lavaine rode together to Camelot, where Arthur and the whole court received the errant knight with the utmost joy and warmest welcome. Queen Guenever alone failed to greet him kindly, her jealous anger continuing so bitter that she would not give him a word or a look, seek as he would. But the joy and brightness at Camelot were replaced by darkness at Astolat, for the fair Elaine was in such sorrow day and night that she neither ate, drank, nor slept; and ever she sadly moaned and bewailed the cruelty of Sir Lancelot. Ten days of this brought her so near her end, that her old father, with sad heart, sent for the priest to give her the last sacraments. But even then she made her plaints of Lancelot's coldness so mournfully, that the ghostly father bade her cease such thoughts. "Why should I?" she cried. "Am I not a woman, with a woman's heart and feelings? While the breath is in my body I must lament my fate; for I hold it no offence to love, and take God to witness that I never have and never can love other than Lancelot du Lake. Since it is God's will that I must die from unrequited love of so noble a knight, I pray for his mercy and forgiveness of all my sins. Never did I offend deeply against God's laws; but it was not in my nature to withstand the fervent love that is bringing me to my death."