ir Lancelot, alas, why are ye in so sad a plight?'

Therewith she almost swooned again. But Sir Lancelot prayed Sir Lavaine
to take her up and bring her to him. And she came to herself again, and
Sir Lancelot kissed her, and said:

'Fair maid, why fare ye thus? It hurts me to see your sorrow, for this
hurt of mine is of little account to cause you to grieve in this wise.
If ye come to minister to me, why, ye are truly welcome, and ye shall
quickly heal me, by the grace of God, and make me whole again.'

'I would gladly serve you till you are well again,' said the maid.

'I thank you, fair Elaine,' replied the knight, 'but I marvel how ye
knew my name?'

'It was by Sir Gawaine, fair lord,' said the damsel, 'for he lodged at
my father's house and saw your shield.'

Sir Lancelot's heart was heavy at these words, for he foreboded sorrow
from this adventure.

Afterwards the maid Elaine never went from Sir Lancelot, but watched
him day and night, and gave such comfort to him that never woman did
more kindly nurse a wounded man than she.

Sir Lancelot was full courteous and kindly in his turn, never giving
more trouble than he could avoid; both were of good cheer and merry
together, for Sir Lancelot deemed not as yet that the maid loved him
deeply, and the maid was glad to be with him and to do him all the
service that she could.

Then in a little while came Sir Bors, the knight who had wounded Sir
Lancelot, who was also his cousin, and Sir Bors lamented sorely that
his had been the arm that had given his kinsman so sore a wound. But
Sir Lancelot prayed him not to grieve, and said:

'I have that which I deserved, for in my pride I was nigh slain, for
had I given thee, my cousin, warning of my being there, I had not been
hurt. Therefore, let us leave off speaking thereof, and let us find
some remedy so that I may soon be whole.'

'Fair cousin,' said Sir Bors, as he leaned on the bed, speaking in a
low voice, 'there is one nigh thee, or I am much in error, that will
not know whether to be glad or sorry when thou shalt be hale enough to
ride away.'

'What dost thou mean?' asked Sir Lancelot.

'Is this she that is so busy about thee--is she the lady that men call
the Lily Maid of Astolat?'

'She it is,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'and kindlier nurse hath never man
found.'

'It is easy to see she loveth her task,' said Sir Bors, and he was full
of pity and kindness for the fair meek maid, 'seeing that she loveth
thee