When they had ridden until that they drew nigh the castle, the Lady was
at the windows of the hall and knew her daughter.
"Ha, God!" saith the Lady, "I see there my daughter coming, and a
knight with her. Fair Father God, grant of your pleasure that it be my
son, for and it be not he, I have lost my castle and mine heirs are
disherited."
Perceval cometh nigh the castle in company with his sister, and knoweth
again the chapel that stood upon four columns of marble between the
forest and the castle, there where his father told him how much ought
he to love good knights, and that none earthly thing might be of
greater worth, and how none might know yet who lay in the coffin until
such time as the Best Knight of the world should come thither, but that
then should it be known. Perceval would fain have passed by the
chapel, but the damsel saith to him: "Sir, no knight passeth hereby
save he go first to see the coffin within the chapel."
He alighteth and setteth the damsel to the ground, and layeth down his
spear and shield and cometh toward the tomb, that was right fair and
rich. He set his hand above it. So soon as he came nigh, the
sepulchre openeth on one side, so that one saw him that was within the
coffin. The damsel falleth at his feet for joy. The Lady had a custom
such that every time a knight stopped at the coffin she made the five
ancient knights that she had with her in the castle accompany her,
wherein they would never fail her, and bring her as far as the chapel.
So soon as she saw the coffin open and the joy her daughter made, she
knew that it was her son, and ran to him and embraced him and kissed
him and began to make the greatest joy that ever lady made.