“My fair lords, I thank you all most heartily that, of your courtesy, ye came with me to this land. That we be come too late is a misfortune that might not be avoided, though I shall mourn it my life long. And now I will ride forth alone to find my lady the Queen in the West, whither men say she has fled. Wait for me, I pray you, for fifteen days and then, if ye hear naught of me, return to your own lands.” So Sir Lancelot rode forth alone, nor would he suffer any to follow him despite their prayers and entreaties. Thus he rode some seven or eight days until, at the last, he came to a nunnery where he saw in the cloister many nuns waiting on a fair lady, none other, indeed, than Queen Guinevere herself. And she, looking up, saw Sir Lancelot and, at the sight, grew so pale that her ladies feared for her; but she recovered and bade them go and bring Sir Lancelot to her presence. When he was come, she said to him: “Sir Lancelot, glad am I to see thee once again that I may bid thee farewell; for in this world shall we never meet again.” “Sweet Madam,” answered Sir Lancelot, “I was minded, with your leave, to bear you to my own country, where I doubt not but I should guard you well and safely from your enemies.” “Nay, Lancelot,” said the Queen, “that may not be; I am resolved never to look upon the world again, but here to pass my life in prayer and in such good works as I may. But thou, do thou get back to thine own land and take a fair wife, and ye both shall ever have my prayers.” “Madam,” replied Sir Lancelot, “ye know well that shall never be. And since ye are resolved to lead a life of prayer, I, too, will forsake the world if I can find hermit to share his cell with me; for ever your will has been mine.” Long and earnestly he looked upon her as though he might never gaze enough; then, getting to horse, he rode slowly away. Nor did they ever meet again in life. For Queen Guinevere abode in the great nunnery of Almesbury where Sir Lancelot had found her and presently, for the holiness of her life, was made Abbess. But Sir Lancelot, after he had left her, rode on his way till he came to the cell where Sir Bedivere dwelt with the holy hermit; and when Sir Bedivere had told him all that had befallen, of the great battle in the West, and of the passing away of Arthur, Sir Lancelot flung down his arms and implored the holy hermit to let him remain there as the servant of God. So Sir Lancelot donned the serge gown and abode in the hermitage as the priest of God. Presently, there came riding that way the good Sir Bors, Lancelot’s nephew; for, when Sir Lancelot returned not to Dover, Sir Bors and many another knight went forth in search of him. There, then, Sir Bors remained and, within a half year, there joined themselves to these three many who in former days had been fellows of the Round Table; and the fame of their piety spread far and wide.