The talk of this strange event quickly passed through the palace, and came to the queen, who heard it with wonder. Those who brought word said that the youth resembled Sir Lancelot.
"I must see this strange thing," she said, and, followed by her ladies, she entered the hall.
"It is Sir Lancelot in youth again," she cried, on looking the young knight in the face. "Fair sir, tell me truly, what father had you, and what mother."
"King Pellam is my grandsire," answered Galahad, "and Elaine was my mother. As for my father, I know him not."
"Then do I," cried the queen, "for he sits beside you. Sir Lancelot is your father. You are son unto the noblest knight that ever wore sword."
At these words Lancelot rose up in haste, for he had not dreamed of what was to come; and he clasped the youth in his arms and kissed his fair young face with a love that overflowed his heart.
"My son!" he said. "Can it be? Greatly, indeed, have I felt drawn unto you."
"And my heart went out to you, dear father," said Galahad, "from the moment I looked upon your noble face."
The sight of this affecting meeting filled all hearts there with joy, and the king warmly congratulated Lancelot on having found so worthy a son; "for to him, I dare avow," he said, "is destined that great achievement of the Sangreal of which you have this day told us."
Then Arthur took Galahad by the hand, and said,—