d cabins and those
beside the way saluted him. He did not acknowledge any of their
greetings, but looked before him proudly, as he had done when he rode
through the solitary paths of the wilderness.

Sir Geraint looked about him as he rode behind, to see if there was any
armourer or knightly person whom he knew, but there was none. When he
saw the knight and the lady and the dwarf enter the castle, and was
sure that they would sojourn there, he rode about the little town, and
found it full of knights and squires, with armourers and others
cleaning arms, sharpening swords and repairing harness. But no one did
he know of whom to beg a suit of armour and a lance.

Then he took his way to a little stream beneath the wall of the town,
and on the other side he saw a manor-house, old and ruinous, standing
amidst tall weeds. And thinking he might get lodging there for that
night, he forded the river and went towards the manor. He saw that the
hall-door yawned open, and that a marble bridge led up to it, over a
wide ditch full of stagnant water and thick with green weeds and
rushes.

On the bridge sat an old and reverend man in clothes that once had been
rich, but now were thin and tattered. And Geraint thought it was not
possible that so poor a place could help him in what he desired. He
looked steadfastly at the old man.

'Young sir,' said the latter, 'why art thou so thoughtful?'

'I was thinking, fair sir,' said Geraint, 'whether thou couldst give me
lodging here for this night.'

'Of a surety,' said the old man, rising. 'It is poor we are, but such
as can be given shall be of our best.'

He led Sir Geraint into the hall, which was bleak and desolate, and the
hearthstone in the centre was thick with last year's leaves, as if it
had been long since fire had flickered upon it. On the wall there hung
rusty weapons and helms, and through the cracks there crept the ivy
from the outer wall. The horse was tethered in the hall by the old man.

Then he led Sir Geraint to a door upon the dais, and ushered him into
the bower, and there he saw an old decrepit woman, sweet of look though
thin and peaked. She rose from the cushion on which she sat, greeting
him kindly, and he saw that the satin garments upon her were also old
and tattered. Yet Sir Geraint thought she must have been a lovely woman
in her happy youth.

Beside her was a maiden, upon whom was a vest and robe poor and thin,
and the veil of her headcloth was old thou