Then our hero the old knight greeted as he passed on his lowly way, And good was the rede, and holy, that he heard from his lips that day. 240 And a prince of the land he seemed him--By each maiden a brachet ran, And with humble mien and reverent paced master alike and man. For both knight and squire they followed on this holy pilgrimage, And some, they were young and beardless, and some were bent low with age. But Parzival, our hero, he was clad in far other wise, 245 In fair raiment, rich and costly, he rode in right knightly guise, And proudly he ware his harness, and unlike were the twain I ween, The old man in his robe of penance and the knight in his armour's sheen! Then swiftly he turned his bridle and held by the pathway side, For fain would he know of their journey, and friendly the knight replied. 250 But a sorrow the old man deemed it that one to this Holy Tide Should have failèd to give due honour, but in warlike gear should ride. For better would it befit him unarmèd this day to greet, Or like them to walk barefooted, and in garb for a sinner meet! Quoth Parzival, 'Nay, I know not what the time of the year may be, 255 Or how men the tale may reckon of the weeks as they swiftly flee, How the days shall be named I know not, long have I forgot such lore! Of old time I served a master, and _God_ was the name He bore. But He bare unto me no favour, and for guerdon He mocking gave, Tho' ne'er had my heart turned from Him--Men said, 'If from God ye crave 260 For succour, He sure will give it;' but I deem well they spake a lie, For He who they said would help me, did help unto me deny!'