ir deliverance.

"Blessed be the day thou wert born, sir knight," they said, "for many
brave warriors have died in seeking to do what thou hast achieved this
day. We are all of us gentlewomen born, and many of us have been
prisoners here for seven years, working in silk for these giants that we
might earn our food. We pray you to tell us your name, that our friends
may know who has delivered us, and remember you in their prayers."

"Fair ladies," he said, "my name is Lancelot du Lake."

"You may well be he," they replied. "For we know no other knight that
could have faced those giants together, and slain them as you have
done."

"Say unto your friends," said Lancelot, "that I send them greeting, and
that I shall expect good cheer from them if ever I should come into
their manors. As for the treasure in this castle, I give it to you in
payment for your captivity. For the castle itself, its lord, whom these
giants have dispossessed, may claim again his heritage."

"The castle," they replied, "is named Tintagil. The duke who owned it
was the husband of Queen Igraine, King Arthur's mother. But it has long
been held by these miscreant giants."

"Then," said Lancelot, "the castle belongs to the king, and shall be
returned to him. And now farewell, and God be with you."

So saying, he mounted his horse and rode away, followed by the thanks
and prayers of the rescued ladies.

CHAPTER IV.

THE CHAPEL PERILOUS.

Lancelot rode onward day after day, passing through many strange and
wild countries, and over many rivers, and finding but sorry cheer and
ill lodging as he went. At length fortune brought him to a comfortable
wayside mansion, where he was well received, and after a good supper was
lodged in a chamber over the gateway.

But he had not been long asleep when he was aroused by a furious
knocking at the gate. Springing from his bed, he looked from the window,
and there by the moonlight saw one knight defending himself against
three, who were pressing him closely. The knight fought bravely, but was
in danger of being overpowered.

"Those are not fair odds," said Lancelot. "I must to the rescue, and the
more so as I see that it is my old friend, Sir Kay, who is being so
roughly handled."

Then he hastily put on his armor, and by aid of a sheet lowered himself
from a window to the ground.

"Turn this way," he cried to the assailants, "and leave that knight.
Three to one is not knightly odds."

At thes