lot who had worn the red sleeve at the
tournament.

Meanwhile Elaine journeyed to Camelot in search of the wounded knight,
and as she sought far and near about the town, sick at heart, it chanced
that she espied her brother Lavaine, as he rode out to give his horse
air. She called loudly to him, and when he came up asked him,--

"How does my lord, Sir Lancelot?"

"Who told you, sister, that my lord's name was Lancelot?"

She told him how she had learned this, and they rode together to the
hermitage, where Lavaine brought her in to see the wounded knight.

But when she saw him lying there so sick and pale, and with a death-like
hue upon his face, she stood gazing upon him with dilated eyes and
whitening face, and then suddenly fell to the floor in a deep swoon.

"I pray you, Lavaine, take her up and bring her to me," said Lancelot.

When she was brought near him he kissed her pale face, and at the touch
of his lips her cheeks flamed out with red, and life came back to her.

"Fair maiden," said Lancelot, "it pains me to see you so deeply
afflicted. Comfort yourself, I pray you. If you come here to my aid you
are truly welcome; but let not this little hurt trouble you; I shall
soon be well of it."

Then they fell into discourse, and Elaine told Lancelot how Gawaine had
seen and known his shield. This gave him no small trouble, for he knew
well that the story of the red scarf would get to Queen Guenever's ears,
and he feared its effect on her hasty and jealous temper. But Elaine
never left Lancelot, but watched him day and night, nursing him back to
health.

CHAPTER III.

HOW ELAINE DIED FOR LOVE.

When Sir Bors learned that his unlucky blow had brought Lancelot nearly
to death's door, he became sore indeed at heart, and hastened to Camelot
in search of his noble kinsman. Here he met Lavaine, who knew him and
conducted him to the bedside of the wounded knight.

When he saw the pale and haggard countenance of Lancelot, he fell into a
passion of tears, and accused himself bitterly. But Lancelot consoled
him as well as he could, declaring that the fault was his own, and that
he would bear the blame. Then Bors told him of the anger of the queen,
and of his earnest but vain endeavor to overcome it.

"I deserve it not," said Lancelot. "I wore the sleeve only by way of
disguise. As for Gawaine, he would have shown more wisdom and friendship
had he been less free of speech."

"I told her all this," said Bo