table he was so well served
with so many dishes that there were too many. The servants who brought
in the dishes might well have been wearied by serving them. That night
they did him all manner of honour, putting him comfortably to bed, and
not once going near him again after he had retired. His lion lay at
his feet, as his custom was. In the morning, when God lighted His great
light for the world, as early as was consistent in one who was always
considerate, my lord Yvain quickly arose, as did his damsel too. They
heard Mass in a chapel, where it was promptly said for them in honour of
the Holy Spirit.

(Vv. 5457-5770.) After the Mass my lord Yvain heard bad news, when he
thought the time had come for him to leave and that nothing would stand
in his way; but it could not be in accordance with his wish. When he
said: "Sire, if it be your will, and with your permission, I am going
now," the master of the house replied: "Friend, I will not grant you
permission yet. There is a reason why I cannot do so, for there is
established in this castle a very terrible practice which I am bound
to observe. I shall now cause to approach two great, strong fellows of
mine, against whom, whether right or wrong, you must take arms. If you
can defend yourself against them, and conquer and slay them both, my
daughter desires you as her lord, and the suzerainty of this town and
all its dependencies awaits you." "Sire," said he, "for all this I have
no desire. So may God never bestow your daughter upon me, but may she
remain with you; for she is so fair and so elegant that the Emperor
of Germany would be fortunate to win her as his wife." "No more, fair
guest," the lord replied: "there is no need of my listening to your
refusal, for you cannot escape. He who can defeat the two, who are about
to attack you, must by right receive my castle, and all my land, and
my daughter as his wife. There is no way of avoiding or renouncing
the battle. But I feel sure that your refusal of my daughter is due to
cowardice, for you think that in this manner you can completely avoid
the battle. Know, however, without fail that you must surely fight. No
knight who lodges here can possibly escape. This is a settled custom
and statute, which will endure yet for many a year, for my daughter will
never be married until I see them dead or defeated." "Then I must fight
them in spite of myself. But I assure you that I should very gladly give
it up. In spite of my reluc