for a single word of hers [_Galahault tells her more, and
begs mercy for L._]. "He could ask me nothing," sighed she,
"that I could fairly refuse him, but he will ask me nothing
at all."... "Lady," said Galahault, "certainly he has no
power to do so. For one loves nothing that one does not
fear." [_And then comes the immortal kiss, asked by the
Prince, delayed a moment by the Queen's demur as to time and
place, brought on by the "Galeotto"-speech._ "Let us three
corner close together as if we were talking secrets,"
_vouchsafed by Guinevere in the words_, "Why should I make
me longer prayer for what I wish more than you or he?"
_Lancelot still hangs back, but the Queen_ "takes him by the
chin and kisses him before Galahault with a kiss long
enough" so that the Lady of Malahault knows it.] And then
said the Queen, who was a right wise and gracious lady,
"Fair sweet friend, so much have you done that I am yours,
and right great joy have I thereof. Now see to it that the
thing be kept secret, as it should be. For I am one of the
ladies of the world who have the fairest fame, and if my
praise grew worse through you, then it would be a foul and
shameful thing."

[Sidenote: Some further remarks on the novel character of the story.]

A little more comment on this cento, and especially on the central
passage of it, can hardly be, and ought certainly not to be, avoided in
such a work as this, even if, like most summaries, it be something of a
repetition. It must surely be obvious to any careful reader that here is
something much more than--unless his reading has been as wide elsewhere
as it is careful here--he expected from Romance in the commoner and
half-contemptuous acceptation of that word. Lancelot he may, though he
should not, still class as a mere _amoureux transi_--a nobler and
pluckier Silvius in an earlier _As Yon Like It_, and with a greater than
Phoebe for idol. Malory ought to be enough to set him right there: he
need even not go much beyond Tennyson, who has comprehended Lancelot
pretty correctly, if not indeed pretty adequately. But Malory has left
out a great deal of the information which would have enabled his
readers to comprehend Guinevere; and Tennyson, only presenting her in
parts, has allowed those parts, especially the final and only full
presentation, great as it is, to be too much influenced by his ce