of valor that had been performed at the great tournament.
Tristram and his two comrades, with Hector de Maris and Bleoberis,
escorted La Belle Isolde to Joyous Gard, where for seven days the guests
were nobly entertained, with all the sports and mirthfulness that could
be devised. King Arthur and his knights drew back to Camelot, and
Palamides rode onward with the two kings, his heart torn with mingled
sorrow and despair. Not alone was he in grief for his disgrace in the
field, under the eyes of her he loved, but was full as sorrowful for the
hot words he had spoken in his wrath to Tristram, who had been so kind
and gentle to him that his heart was torn to think how falsely and
treacherously he had requited him.

His kingly companions would have had him stay with them, but he could
not be persuaded, so the king of Ireland presented him with a noble
courser, and the king of Scotland with valuable gifts, and he rode his
way, still plunged in a grief that was almost despair. Noon brought him
to a forest fountain, beside which lay a wounded knight, who sighed so
mournfully that the very leaves on the trees seemed to sigh in echo.

"Why mourn you so, fair knight?" asked Palamides, mildly. "Or if you
care not to tell, at least let me lie beside you and join my moans to
yours, for I dare say I have a hundredfold deeper cause for grief, and
we may ease our hearts by mutual complaints."

"What is your name, gentle sir?"

"Such as I am, for better or worse, men call me Palamides, son to King
Astlabor."

"Noble sir, it solaces me much to meet you. I am Epinegris, son to the
king of Northumberland. Now repose you on this mossy bank and let us
tell our woes, and so ease somewhat our sad hearts."

Then Palamides dismounted and laid himself beside the wounded knight.

"This is my source of woe," he said. "I love the fairest queen that ever
drew breath, La Belle Isolde, Cornwall's queen."

"That is sheer folly," said Epinegris, "for she loves none but Tristram
de Lyonesse."

"Know I it not? I have been in their company this month, daily reaping
sorrow. And now I have lost the fellowship of Tristram and the love of
Isolde forever, through my envy and jealousy, and never more shall a
glad thought enter my sorrowful heart."

"Did she ever show you signs of love?"

"Never. She hated me, I fear. And the last day we met she gave me such a
rebuke that I will never recover from it:--yet well I deserved it by my
unknightly acts. Ma