brother lies at the
point of death, for this day he fought with the stout knight, Sir
Gilbert, and sorely they wounded each other; and a wise woman, a
sorceress, has said that nothing may staunch my brother's wounds
unless they be searched with the sword and bound up with a piece
of the cloth from the body of the wounded knight who lies in the
ruined chapel hard by. And well I know you, my lord Sir Launcelot,
and that, if ye will not help me, none may." "Tell me your
brother's name," said Sir Launcelot. "Sir Meliot de Logris,"
answered the damsel. "A Knight of our Round Table," said Sir
Launcelot; "the more am I bound to your service. Only tell me,
gentle damsel, where I may find this Chapel Perilous." So she
directed him, and, riding through forest byeways, Sir Launcelot
came presently upon a little ruined chapel, standing in the midst
of a churchyard, where the tombs showed broken and neglected under
the dark yews. In front of the porch, Sir Launcelot paused and
looked, for thereon hung, upside down, dishonoured, the shield of
many a good knight whom Sir Launcelot had known.

As he stood wondering, suddenly there pressed upon him from all
sides thirty stout knights, all giants and fully armed, their drawn
swords in their hands and their shields advanced. With threatening
looks, they spoke to him saying: "Sir Launcelot, it were well ye
turned back before evil befell you." But Sir Launcelot, though he
feared to have to do with thirty such warriors, answered boldly: "I
turn not back for high words. Make them good by your deeds." Then
he rode upon them fiercely, whereupon instantly they scattered and
disappeared, and, sword in hand, Sir Launcelot entered the little
chapel. All was dark within, save that a little lamp hung from the
roof, and by its dim light he could just espy how on a bier before
the altar there lay, stark and cold, a knight sheathed in armour.
And drawing nearer, Sir Launcelot saw that the dead man lay on a
blood-stained mantle, his naked sword by his side, but that his
left hand had been lopped off at the wrist by a mighty sword-cut.
Then Sir Launcelot boldly seized the sword and with it cut off a
piece of the bloody mantle. Immediately the earth shook and the
walls of the chapel rocked, and in fear Sir Launcelot turned to go.
But, as he would have left the chapel, there stood before him in
the doorway a lady, fair to look upon and beautifully arrayed, who
gazed earnestly upon him, and said: "Sir Knig