Meanwhile Gawaine and Ettard awoke, and their dread was great on finding the sword across their throats.
"It is Pelleas's sword!" she cried. "You have betrayed him and me both, for you lied to me in saying that you had killed him. Only that he has proved himself a man of true honor, he would have slain us both. Leave me, traitor! Never let me see your false face again!"
Gawaine had no words in answer, but hastily mounted his horse and rode into the forest, feeling at heart that he had proved a traitor both to honor and love.
When morning dawned it happened that Nimue, the damsel of the lake, who by chance had come into that country, met with a follower of Sir Pelleas, who was grieving sorely for the ill fortune of his master. She asked him the cause of his grief, and he told her the woeful tale of the lovelorn knight, and how he had taken to his bed, vowing never again to rise.
"He shall not die of love, I warrant you that," she said. "Bring me to him. I promise you that she who has treated him so vilely shall feel all the pain she has made him endure."
She was accordingly brought to the tent of Pelleas, and a feeling of pity and love grew in her heart as she looked on his noble and woe-worn face while he lay asleep. Therefore she deepened his slumber with a spell of enchantment, and charging that no man should wake him before her return, she rode through the forest to Ettard's castle.
Within two hours she brought the lady Ettard to the tent, where Pelleas still lay wrapped in deep slumber.
"You should do penance for life to murder such a knight as this," she said. "You have treated a true lover with shameful despite, and for love's sake you shall pay the penalty of your misdeeds."
Then she threw so deep a spell of enchantment on the proud lady that her former scorn turned to the deepest love, and her heart went out to Pelleas as if it would break with sorrow and remorse.
"Alas!" she cried, "I hated him above all men. What has befallen me that I love him now with my whole soul?"