While his knights and men-at-arms sat down to dine, Earl Madoc came to Enid and begged her to make good cheer. But, thinking to gain more from secrecy, he did not tell her that he knew who she was, nor did he show her that he knew who was her lord. 'Take off thy travelling clothes, fair lady,' he said, 'and weep not for this dead knight.' 'I will not,' she said, and hung over Geraint, chafing his hands and looking earnestly into his pallid face. 'Ah, lady,' the earl said, 'be not so sorrowful. For he is now dead, and therefore ye need no longer mourn. But as ye are beautiful, I would wed thee, and thou shalt have this earldom and myself and much wealth and all these men to serve thee.' 'I tell you I will rather die with my dead lord, if indeed he be dead,' cried Enid, 'than live in wealth with you or any one.' 'Come, then,' said the earl, 'and at least take food with me.' 'Nay, I will not,' said Enid, 'and never more will I eat or be joyful in life.' 'But, by Heaven, thou shalt,' said Madoc, furious at her resistance to his will. And he drew her from beside the litter, and forced her to come to the table where his knights sat eating, and commanded her to eat. 'I will not eat,' she cried, straining from his hold towards where Geraint lay, 'unless my dear lord shall eat also.' 'But he is dead already, thou mad woman,' cried the earl. 'Drink this goblet of wine,' he commanded, 'and thou wilt change thy mind.' 'I will not drink again until my dear lord drink also,' said Enid, and strove to free herself from the grasp of the earl. 'Now, by Heaven!' said Madoc wrathfully, 'I have tried gentle means with thee. Let this teach thee that I am not to be baulked of my will.' With that he gave her a violent blow on the ear, and tried to drag her away out of the hall. And Enid shrieked and wept and cried for help, but none of the knights that sat there dared to oppose their lord. But suddenly men started up from their seats in terror to see the corpse of Geraint rise from the hollow of the shield. Enid's cries had roused him from his swoon, and his hand as he raised himself felt the hilt of the sword beside him. He leaped from the litter, and, drawing his sword, he ran towards the earl, who by now had almost dragged Enid to the door. Raising the sword, Geraint struck him with so fierce a blow that he cleft his head in twain. Then, for terror at seeing what they thought was a dead man rise up to slay them, the knights ran from the hall and left Geraint and Enid alone. Enid threw her arms about Geraint, her face bright with happiness. 'My dear lord, I thank God thou art not dead, as this man said thou wert. And I pray thy forgiveness for doubting that thou hadst forgotten thy manhood, for of a truth none is so brave, so good as thou art.' Geraint kissed his wife, smiling wanly the while.