Bedivere
How like a frenzy is his hatred!
Lucan
He is narrowed to one point, vengeance. Look, what’s yonder?
Bedivere
A damsel riding hither from Joyous Gard.
Lucan
Upon a milk-white ass! Look, a gleam follows her from the stormy heaven. A happy omen!
Bedivere
She is in white; like a white dove; like peace. Go, Lucan, go to meet her. (Lucan advances. A distant trumpet sounds from Launcelot’s side.) A trumpet sounds from Joyous Gard. Is it peace at last?