"Hush, hush!" she cried, "or the giant will hear you and come and kill you. He can hear me, but the sound of weeping delights him, and therefore I need not restrain my grief."
"Why do you grieve?" the king asked.
"Alas! Because my good mistress, the duchess of Brittany, is dead. The giant has killed her."
At that Arthur gripped tightly the handle of his sword and said:
"I will kill this wretch before I am an hour older."
"Ah, my lord," said the woman, "the greatest kings in the country are afraid of him. He has a coat embroidered with the beards of fifteen of them. He demanded these beards as a sign that they acknowledged him as lord."
"There is at least one king who does not acknowledge him as lord," shouted Arthur, as he strode hastily forward.
When he reached the top he saw the giant asleep in front of the two great fires before the cave. He was taller than the tallest pine that ever grew. His arms were as big as the trunk of an oak tree. His mouth was as large as a cave, and from it and his nostrils came forth fire and flame like that from the mountain of Vesuvius. Although his huge eyes were closed, flashes of lightning seemed to shoot from beneath the lids. At his side was an iron club as large as a steeple. About him stood trembling old women fanning him as he slept.
King Arthur approached the monster, and said to him:
"Wretch, awake and fight, for your hour has come."