"What is his name?" asked Lancelot. "We call him Galahad." "Comes this desire from himself?" "It does," said they all. "From whom has he sprung?" "His mother is dead. His father is a full noble knight, as you shall soon learn." "Then he shall be knighted by my hand to-morrow at the morning services, for truly he seems worthy of it." That night, Lancelot's cousins, Bors and Lionel, stopped at the abbey, and spent there a cheery evening with their noble kinsman. At early morn of the next day he gave the accolade to the youth, pronouncing him knight, and bidding Bors and Lionel to stand as his godfathers in the order of knighthood. "And may God make you a good man and a noble knight," he said. "Beauty you have now, equal to any I have ever seen, and strength and courage I doubt not; if you bear with these a noble heart and an earnest mind you have the best treasures that God can confer or man possess." Then, when they had broken their fast, Lancelot said to the demure and modest young knight,-- "Fair sir, will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?" "I humbly beg your pardon," said Galahad, "but I cannot come at this time. Trust me to follow soon." Then Lancelot and his cousins left the abbey and rode to Camelot, where they arrived before the hour of the feast. In the great hall were many noble knights, some of them strangers, who walked about the Round Table, reading the names in letters of gold in the several seats, and saying,-- "Here sits Gawaine, here Lancelot, here Percivale," and so with the others. At length they came to the seat perilous, in which no man but Percivale had hitherto dared to sit, and which he no longer occupied. To their deep surprise they found there newly written in letters of gold these words,-- "Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the knight shall come for whom this seat is held by destiny." "What marvellous thing is this?" cried all who saw it. "Here is a miracle." "In the name of God, what means it?" cried Lancelot. "Percivale long since had warning to leave that seat. Who shall fill it to-day, for this is the feast of Pentecost of the four hundred and fifty-fourth year. The year and day have come, but where and who is the man? I advise that these letters be hidden, till he come for whom this seat is pre-ordained." Then it was ordered that the writing should be covered with a cloth of silk; and the king bade his guests to hasten to dinner, and forget for the time being what they had seen. "Sir," said Kay, the steward, "if you go to table now you will break your old custom, not to sit at dinner on this day till you have seen or heard of some adventure." "Very true," said the king. "I had forgotten my custom through this strange event." As they stood thus speaking, there came hastily into the court a squire, whose eyes were big with wonder. "Sire, I bring you marvellous tidings," he cried to the king. "What are they?" demanded Arthur.