ere is my knight?" she asked.

"He bade me say that he would not be long from you," answered the dwarf.

Then, bearing a tender reply from the lady, the dwarf sought his master
again, and found him impatiently waiting, for he was weary and needed
repose.

As they rode forward through the forest a storm of thunder and lightning
came up suddenly, and it rained as if heaven and earth were coming
together. On through this conflict of the elements rode the weary knight
and the disconsolate dwarf, under the drenching leaves of the forest,
until night was near at hand. And still it thundered and lightened as if
all the spirits of the air had gone mad.

At last, through an opening in the trees, Gareth to his delight beheld
the towers of a castle, and heard the watchman's call upon its walls.

"Good luck follows bad, my worthy dwarf," he cried. "Here is shelter;
let us to it."

He rode to the barbican of the castle and called to the porter, praying
him in courteous language to let him in from the storm.

"Go thy way," cried the porter, surlily; "thou gettest no lodging here."

"Say not so, fair sir. I am a knight of King Arthur's, and pray the lord
or lady of this castle to give me harbor for love of the king."

Then the porter went to the duchess, and told her that a knight of King
Arthur's sought shelter.

"I will see him," said the duchess; "for King Arthur's sake he shall not
go harborless."

Then she went up into a tower over the gate, with great torch-light,
that she might behold the storm-stayed wayfarer. When Gareth saw the
light, he cried loudly,--

"Whether thou be lord or lady, giant or champion, I pray for harbor this
night. If it be that I must fight for my lodging, spare me that till
morning, when I have rested, for I and my horse are both weary."

"Sir knight," said the lady, "you speak like a bold knight errant. This
you must know, that the lord of this castle loves not King Arthur nor
any of his court. Therefore, it were better for you not to enter here.
If you come in it must be under this contract, that wherever you meet my
lord, by road, by lane, or by street, you shall yield to him as his
prisoner."

"Madam," asked Gareth, "what is your lord's name?"

"He is the Duke de la Rowse," she answered.

"Well, madam, it shall be as you say. I promise that wherever I meet
your lord I shall yield me to his good grace, with the covenant that he
will do me no harm. If I understand that he will, then s