as no light but that of a dim lamp, and on a bier in the centre of
the aisle there lay a corpse that was covered with a cloth of silk. On
coming up, Lancelot gazed upon the face and saw that it was that of Sir
Gilbert, whose dead body he had seen but lately in the hall of the
manor-house.

Then he bent over the corpse and cut away a piece of the silk, and as he
did so he felt the floor to sink and rock beneath him as if the earth
had quaked. This gave him a thrill of dread, and seizing the sword that
lay by the side of the corpse he hastened out of the chapel.

When he reached the chapel-yard the black knights thronged again in his
pathway, and cried to him with voices of thunder,--

"Knight, yield us that sword, or you shall die!"

"Whether I live or die, it will need more than loud words to force me to
yield it. You may fight for it if you will. And I warn you, you will
need to fight hard."

Then, as before, they scattered before his bold advance, and left him
free passage. Lancelot strode resolutely on through the chapel-yard, but
in the highway beyond he met a fair damsel, who said to him,--

"Sir Lancelot, you know not what risk you run. Leave that sword, or you
will die for it."

"I got it not so easy that I should leave it for a threat," he replied.

"You are wise," she answered. "I did but test your judgment. If you had
yielded the sword you would never have looked on Queen Guenever again."

"Then I would have been a fool indeed to leave it."

"Now, gentle knight, I have but one request to make of you ere you
depart. That is, that you kiss me."

"Nay," said Lancelot, "that God forbid. I save my kisses till my love is
given."

"Then are you beyond my power," she cried, with a groan of pain. "Had
you kissed me your life would have ended; but now I have lost my labor,
for it was for you and Gawaine that I prepared this chapel with its
enchantments. Gawaine was once in my power, and at that time he fought
with Sir Gilbert and struck off his left hand. As for you, I have loved
you these seven years. But I know that none but Guenever will ever have
your love, and so, as I could not have you alive, I wished to have you
dead. If you had yielded to my wiles I should have embalmed and
preserved your body, and kissed it daily in spite of Guenever, or any
woman living. Now farewell, Lancelot; I shall never look upon your face
again."

"I pray to Heaven you shall not. And may God preserve me from your vile
cr