m, and proves
That which the great King Arthur taught,--the man
Is strongest who can claim a strength divine
From whence to draw his own." Sir Torm had grown
More wrathful in his heart at this, and kept
Sanpeur long while from word with Gwendolaine.
Then, when Torm's anger did not baffle her,
Sometimes a doubt would come, and doubt hides joy.
Sir Sanpeur honoured her before the court
With chivalrous and frankest loyalty.
At the great tournament of Christmas-tide,
He cried, "Such peerless presence in our midst
As the unrivalled Lady Gwendolaine
Strengthens the arm to prove her without peer!
Let him who will dispute it!" Those who did,
But proved it by their fall, for worshipfully
He overthrew them with so simple ease
His cause seemed justice rather than love's boast.
Then when they met for converse face to face,
He spoke from his unsullied, fearless soul
Straight to her own, without reserve or fear.
Yet he was wrapped in a calm self-control;
No word, no whisper of his love for her
Had ever passed his lips to tell, in truth,
The love that she was sure of in her heart.
And when he lingered by some maiden fair,
With that true-hearted careful courtesy
He never for a moment's space forgot
To any woman, queen or serving-maid;
And when the maiden's eyes gave bright response
To his fair words of thought-betaking grace,
The heart of Gwendolaine would faster beat,
And all her waywardness would quick return;
Then, if Sanpeur approached her, she would mock
At life, and love, and fling the gauntlet down
As challenge for a tournament of speech.

"And pray, Sanpeur," she said one eve to him,
When they were at a feast at Camelot,
"Why is your life so lone and incomplete,
When any lovely maiden of the court
Would follow you most gladly at your call?"

"You know full well, my Lady Gwendolaine."

"By your kind grace, I cannot guess," she said,
Repenting as she said it, instantly.

"Because I love you only, evermore;
You long have felt it, known it; and I thought
Cared not to hear me say it with my voice;
But, as you wish it, I have said it now,
My Lady Gwendolaine."

They stood among
The knights and ladies, therefore he spoke low,
In quiet dignity, as he might say
"How well the colour of your robe beseems
Your beauty";--not a trace of passionate
Intensity, save in his lucent eyes.
No passion nor embrace could so have moved her,
As this calm telling her in quiet words
The secret of all secrets