ch and precious, that none might count
the cost. The cords and fringes thereof were of silken thread, and the
lances which bore aloft the pavilion were of refined gold. No King on
earth might have so sweet a shelter, not though he gave in fee the
value of his realm. Within this pavilion Launfal came upon the Maiden.
Whiter she was than any altar lily, and more sweetly flushed than the
new born rose in time of summer heat. She lay upon a bed with napery
and coverlet of richer worth than could be furnished by a castle's
spoil. Very fresh and slender showed the lady in her vesture of
spotless linen. About her person she had drawn a mantle of ermine,
edged with purple dye from the vats of Alexandria. By reason of the
heat her raiment was unfastened for a little, and her throat and the
rondure of her bosom showed whiter and more untouched than hawthorn in
May. The knight came before the bed, and stood gazing on so sweet a
sight. The Maiden beckoned him to draw near, and when he had seated
himself at the foot of her couch, spoke her mind.

"Launfal," she said, "fair friend, it is for you that I have come from
my own far land. I bring you my love. If you are prudent and discreet,
as you are goodly to the view, there is no emperor nor count, nor
king, whose day shall be so filled with riches and with mirth as
yours."

When Launfal heard these words he rejoiced greatly, for his heart was
litten by another's torch.

"Fair lady," he answered, "since it pleases you to be so gracious, and
to dower so graceless a knight with your love, there is naught that
you may bid me do--right or wrong, evil or good--that I will not do to
the utmost of my power. I will observe your commandment, and serve in
your quarrels. For you I renounce my father and my father's house.
This only I pray, that I may dwell with you in your lodging, and that
you will never send me from your side."

When the Maiden heard the words of him whom so fondly she desired to
love, she was altogether moved, and granted him forthwith her heart
and her tenderness. To her bounty she added another gift besides.
Never might Launfal be desirous of aught, but he would have according
to his wish. He might waste and spend at will and pleasure, but in his
purse ever there was to spare. No more was Launfal sad. Right merry
was the pilgrim, since one had set him on the way, with such a gift,
that the more pennies he bestowed, the more silver and gold were in
his pouch.

But the