At these words the maid Elaine could have swooned for very joy, for she deemed that Sir Lancelot had borne her token for love of her. Therefore, she was cast more deeply in love with him than ever. 'But I dread me,' went on Sir Gawaine, 'for I fear we may never see him in this life again.' 'Alas! alas!' cried Elaine, throwing herself at the feet of the knight, and clutching his arm tightly, while she gazed with terror into his face. 'How may this be? oh, say not--say not that he is--is----' She could not say the word, but Sir Gawaine made answer. 'I say not so, but wit ye well that he is grievously wounded.' 'Alas!' cried Elaine, 'what is his hurt? Where is he? Oh, I will go to him instantly.' She rose, wildly ringing her slender hands. 'Truly,' said Sir Gawaine, who, though a great warrior, was a slow talker, and had no thought of the sorrow of the poor maid, 'the man that hurt him was one that would least have hurt him had he known. And when he shall know it, that will be the most sorrow that he hath ever had.' 'Ah, but say,' cried Elaine, 'where doth my lord lie wounded?' 'Truly,' replied Gawaine, 'no man knoweth where he may lie. For he went off at a great gallop, and though I and others of King Arthur's knights did seek him within six or seven miles of Camelot, we could not come upon him.' 'Now, dear father,' said the maid Elaine, and the tears welled from her eyes, 'I require you give me leave to ride and seek him that I love, or else I know well that I shall go out of my mind, for I may never rest until I learn of him and find him and my brother Sir Lavaine.' So the maid Elaine made her ready, weeping sorely, and her father bade two men-at-arms go with her to guard and guide her on her quest. When she came to Camelot, for two days was her seeking in vain, and hardly could she eat or sleep for her trouble. It happened that on the third day, as she crossed a plain, she saw a knight with two horses, riding as if he exercised them; and by his gestures she recognised him at length, and it was her brother. She spurred her horse eagerly, and rode towards Sir Lavaine, crying with a loud voice: 'Lavaine, Lavaine, tell me how is my lord, Sir Lancelot?' Her brother came forward, rejoicing to see her, but he asked how she had learned that the stranger knight was Sir Lancelot, and she told him. 'My lord hath never told me who he was,' said Lavaine, 'but the holy hermit who hath harboured him knew him and told me. And for days my lord has been wandering and distraught in his fever. But now he is better.' 'It pleaseth me greatly to hear that,' said Elaine. When Sir Lavaine took her into the room where lay Sir Lancelot so sick and pale in his bed, she could not speak, but suddenly fell in a swoon. And when she came to her senses again she sighed and said: 'My lord, Sir Lancelot, alas, why are ye in so sad a plight?'