Now when it was known that the victorious knight had departed from the field sore wounded, Sir Gawain vowed to go in search of him.  So it chanced that, in his wanderings, he came to Astolat, and there he had a hearty welcome of the Lord of Astolat, who asked him for news of the tournament.  Then Sir Gawain related how two stranger knights, bearing white shields, had won great glory, and in especial one, who wore in his helm a crimson sleeve, had surpassed all others in knightly prowess.  At these words, the fair Elaine cried aloud with delight.  “Maiden,” said Gawain, “know ye this knight?” “Not his name,” she replied; “but full sure was I that he was a noble knight when I prayed him to wear my favour.”  Then she showed Gawain the shield which she had kept wrapped in rich broideries, and immediately Sir Gawain knew it for Launcelot’s.  “Alas!” cried he, “without doubt it was Launcelot himself that we wounded to the death.  Sir Bors will never recover the woe of it.”

Then, on the morrow, Sir Gawain rode to London to tell the court how the stranger knight and Launcelot were one; but the Fair Maid of Astolat rose betimes, and having obtained leave of her father, set out to search for Sir Launcelot and her brother Lavaine.  After many journeyings, she came, one day, upon Lavaine exercising his horse in a field, and by him she was taken to Sir Launcelot.  Then, indeed, her heart was filled with grief when she saw the good knight to whom she had given her crimson sleeve thus laid low; so she abode in the hermitage, waiting upon Sir Launcelot and doing all within her power to lessen his pain.

After many weeks, by the good care of the hermit and the fair Elaine, Sir Launcelot was so far recovered that he might bear the weight of his armour and mount his horse again.  Then, one morn, they left the hermitage and rode all three, the Fair Maid, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Lavaine, to the castle of Astolat, where there was much joy of their coming.  After brief sojourn, Sir Launcelot desired to ride to court, for he knew there would be much sorrow among his kinsmen for his long absence.  But when he would take his departure, Elaine cried aloud:  “Ah! my lord, suffer me to go with you, for I may not bear to lose you.”  “Fair child,” answered Sir Launcelot gently, “that may not be.  But in the days to come, when ye shall love and wed some good knight, for your sake I will bestow upon him broad lands and great riches; and at all times will I hold me ready to serve you as a true knight may.”  Thus spoke Sir Launcelot, but the fair Elaine answered never a word.

So Sir Launcelot rode to London where the whole court was glad of his coming; but from the day of his departure, the Fair Maid drooped and pined until, when ten days were passed, she felt that her end was at hand.  So she sent for her father and two brothers, to whom she said gently:  “Dear father and brethren, I must now leave you.”  Bitterly they wept, but she comforted them all she might, and presently