"As I stood but now by the river, I saw floating on its waters a great square stone, and above this stood the hilt of a sword, whose blade was thrust deeply into the stone." "A stone that floats!" said the king. "That is strange, indeed. I must see this marvel." Then he, followed by all the knights, went to the river, and saw there that the squire had spoken truly; for a great stone that seemed of red marble floated like wood on the water, and thrust deeply into it was a rich sword, in whose pommel were many jewels of price. As they looked in wonder the stone whirled inward on an eddy and came aground at their feet. And now they saw that the precious stones were set in letters of gold, which none there could read. But there was a man at the court learned in strange tongues, and he being sent for, read these with ease, and thus interpreted them,-- "Never shall the hand of man draw me from this stone until he comes by whose side I am to hang; and he shall be the best knight in the world." "Lay your hand on this sword and draw it," said the king to Lancelot. "To you it surely belongs; for you are the best knight in the world." "Best of hand, mayhap, but not of heart and life," said Lancelot, soberly. "Certes, sir, that sword is not for me, nor have I the hardiness to set hand thereto. I had a vision in my last night's sleep, and this it told me: that he who seeks to draw that sword, and fails therein, shall in time receive from it a wound which shall be very long in healing. And this more I learned, that this same day, and with the drawing of that sword, shall begin the marvellous quest of the holy vessel, the Sangreal. For fate has destined that this precious amulet shall be sought throughout the world; and to him who finds it the greatest of earth's honors shall come." The king and all the knights heard these words with wonder, for Lancelot spoke like one inspired. Then Arthur turned to Gawaine. "Fair nephew," he said, "try you this task for my love." "Saving your good grace," said Gawaine, "that I shall not do." "Then, sir, seek to draw the sword at my command." "Your command I must obey," said Gawaine, "yet I dread to meddle with magic." Then he took the sword by the handle, and pulled with all his might, but he could not stir it. "I thank you," said the king, "for the trial, even if you have failed." "My lord Gawaine," said Lancelot, "bear well in mind, this sword shall touch you so sore that you would give the best castle in this kingdom not to have set your hand thereto." "It may be," answered Gawaine. "Yet I could not disobey the command of the king." Then the king turned to Percivale, and asked him for his love to try the task. "Gladly will I," he said, "if only to bear Gawaine fellowship." But pull as strongly as he would, the sword yielded not to his hand. And there were more there so hardy as to disregard Lancelot's warning and seek to draw the sword, but to no hand would it yield.