VII.
"Lady," saith the Damsel of the Car, "This knight hath saved my life, for he hath slain the lion on account of which many folk durst not come to you, wherefore make great joy of him."
"Greater joy may I not make, than I do, nor the damsels that are herein, for we await the coming of the Good Knight that is healed, from day to day. And now is there nought in the world I more desire to see."
"Lady," saith Clamados, "Who is this Good Knight?"
"The son of the Widow Lady of the Valleys of Camelot," saith she.
"Tell me, Lady, do you say that he will come hither presently?"
"So methinketh," saith she.
"Lady, I also shall have great joy thereof, and God grant he come betimes!"
"Sir Knight," saith she, "What is your name?"
"Lady" saith he, "I am called Clamados, and I am son of the lord of the Forest of Shadows."
She throweth her arms on his neck and kisseth and embraceth him right sweetly, and saith: "Marvel not that I make you joy thereof, for you are the son of my sister-in-law, nor have I any friend nor blood-kindred so nigh as are you, and fain would I you should be lord of all my land and of me, as is right and reason."
The damsels of the tents make right great joy of him when they know the tidings that he is so nigh of kin to the Lady of the Tents. And he sojourned therewithin until that he was whole and heal, awaiting the coming of the knight of whom he had heard the tidings. And the damsels marvel them much that he cometh not, for the damsel that had tended him was therewithin and telleth them that he was healed of his arm, but that Lancelot is not yet whole, wherefore he is still within the hermitage.