ied,--

"My lord Arthur, you have heard this offer! I accept it. Let him be
disarmed and bound as he says."

"You do not mean to keep this foolish promise, Lancelot?" demanded the
king.

"That do I," said Lancelot. "I shall not go back on my word, be it wise
or foolish."

"Then so let it be; but you invite death by such a reckless compact."

The attendant knights thereupon removed Lancelot's helmet, and took from
him his shield and the armor from his left side. They then bound his
left arm behind him, and thus arrayed he was placed before his
antagonist, whose heart burned with hope and with murderous designs.

All those who looked on were full of fear for Lancelot, deeming it the
height of folly that he should take such a frightful risk, while many
ladies closed their eyes, in dread to see him slain.

With the inspiration of hope, Meliagrance came up, bearing his sword
uplifted, while Lancelot stood with his head and side fully open to his
stroke. Down came the blade with a deadly sweep that caused many men to
close their eyes, sure that the knights head would be cleft in twain.

But Lancelot had no such thought. With a light swing to the right he
avoided the stroke, which cut idly through the air; then, stepping
forward to give effect to the blow, he swung his own blade upward with
giant strength, and brought it down on Meliagrance's helmet with such
mighty force that the hard steel and the head it covered were shorn in
twain, and the traitor knight fell dead upon the field.

Wild were the shouts of joy and triumph at this unlooked-for end to the
combat. The king sprang from his seat and rushed into the lists, where
he warmly clasped Lancelot in his arms; while Guenever, in joy at her
deliverance, kissed him on both cheeks; and all the knights crowded
around them with glad cries and warm congratulations.

As for Meliagrance, he was given the burial of a recreant and traitor,
the cause of his death being inscribed on his tomb, that all might read
his dishonor.

But for Sir Lancelot, the king and queen made more of him, and felt more
love for him in their hearts, than ever before.

After this time many events of interest took place of which we have
little space to speak. Among them, Lancelot healed the wounds of a
knight of Hungary, named Sir Urre, who had been held in pain, through
sorcery, for seven years, till his wounds should be touched by the best
knight in the world. This knight had a lovely sister,