It cost him such pain to
leave her that he suffered a real martyr's agony. His heart now
stays where the Queen remains; he has not the power to lead it
away, for it finds such pleasure in the Queen that it has no
desire to leave her: so his body goes, and his heart remains.
But enough of his body stays behind to spot and stain the sheets
with the blood which has fallen from his fingers. Full of sighs
and tears, Lancelot leaves in great distress. He grieves that no
time is fixed for another meeting, but it cannot be. Regretfully
he leaves by the window through which he had entered so happily.
He was so badly wounded in the fingers that they were in sorry,
state; yet he straightened the bars and set them in their place
again, so that from neither side, either before or behind, was it
evident that any one had drawn out or bent any of the bars. When
he leaves the room, he bows and acts precisely as if he were
before a shrine; then he goes with a heavy heart, and reaches his
lodgings without being recognised by any one. He throws himself
naked upon his bed without awaking any one, and then for the
first time he is surprised to notice the cuts in his fingers; but
he is not at all concerned, for he is very sure that the wound
was caused by dragging the window bars from the wall.
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