"Lady," saith Perceval, "I may not, for I left Lancelot wounded right
sore in my uncle's hermitage."
"Sir," saith the Queen, "I would fain that remaining here might have
pleased you as well as it would me."
"Lady," saith he, "none ought it to displease to be with you, but every
man behoveth keep his word as well as he may, and none ought to lie to
so good a knight as he."
"You promise me, then," saith the Queen, "that you will return hither
the soonest you may, or at the least, within the term appointed after
you shall have learnt that Clamados is healed, to defend you of the
treason that he layeth upon you?"
"Lady," saith he, "and if he die shall I be quit?"
"Yea, truly, Sir, and so be that you have no will to come for love of
me. For right well should I love your coming."
"Lady," saith he, "never shall be the day my services shall fail you,
so I be in place, and you in need thereof."
He taketh leave and departeth, armed. The Damsel of the Car commendeth
him to God, and Perceval departeth full speed and rideth so far on his
journeys that he cometh to his uncle's hermitage and entereth in,
thinking to find Lancelot. But his uncle telleth him that he hath
departed all sound and all heal of his wound, as of all other malady,
as him thinketh.