"I was too eager to attend the tournament, now near at hand," he said.
"Ah, Sir Lancelot, you have more courage than wisdom, I fear. As for the tournament, let Sir Bors attend it and do what he may. By the time it is over and he returned, I hope that you may be well once more, if you will but be governed by my advice."
This advice was taken and Bors went to the tournament, where he bore himself so valorously that the prize was divided between him and Gawaine. Gareth and Palamides also did noble deeds, but they departed suddenly before the prize was declared, as if called away by some adventure.
All this Lancelot heard with great pleasure from Bors on his return, his only regret being that he had not been able to take part in that knightly sport. But the remedies of the hermit and the care of Elaine had meanwhile done him wonderful service, and he was soon able again to mount his horse and wear his armor in safety.
A day, therefore, quickly came when the knight felt himself in condition for a journey, and when he and his companions took the road to Astolat, escorting the fair Elaine back to her father's home. Here they were gladly received by the old baron Bernard, and his son Tirre, who had now recovered.
But when the time approached which Lancelot had set for his departure, Elaine grew pale and drooping. At length, with the boldness of speech of that period, she came to him and said,—
"My lord Sir Lancelot, clear and courteous sir, will you then depart, and leave me alone with my love and sorrow? Have mercy on me, I pray you, and suffer me not to die of grief."
"What would you have me do?" asked Lancelot.
"I brought you back to life; give me your love in return; make me your wedded wife, and I will love you as never woman loved."
"That can I never do," said Lancelot, gravely. "I shall never wed."