Thereupon, behold you, a damsel running, her kirtle girt high about
her, right through the grave-yard a great pace.
"Take heed you move not until such time as it is known who the knight
is!" She is come to the chapel. "Sir Knight, lay down the sword and
this that you have taken of the windingsheet of the dead knight!"
"Damsel," saith Lancelot, "What hurt doth it you of this that I have?"
"This," saith she, "That you have taken it without my leave; for I have
him in charge, both him and the chapel. And I would fain," saith she,
"know what is your name?"
"Damsel," saith he, "What would you gain of knowing my name?"
"I know not," saith she, "whether I shall have either loss or gain
thereof, but high time already is it that I should ask you it to my
sorrow, for many a time have I been deceived therein."
"Damsel," saith he, "I am called Lancelot of the Lake."
"You ought of right," saith she, "to have the sword and the cloth; but
come you with me to my castle, for oftentimes have I desired that you
and Perceval and Messire Gawain should see the three tombs that I have
made for your three selves."