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at his head and another at his feet. Lancelot saluteth him right nobly, and the King answereth him full fairly as one that is a right worshipful man. And such a brightness of light was there in the chamber as that it seemed the sun were beaming on all sides, and albeit the night was dark, no candles, so far as Lancelot might espy, were lighted therewithin. "Sir," saith King Fisherman, "Can you tell me tidings of my sister's son, that was son of Alain li Gros of the Valleys of Camelot, whom they call Perceval?" "Sir," saith Lancelot, "I saw him not long time sithence in the house of King Hermit, his uncle." "Sir," saith the King, "They tell me he is a right good knight?" "Sir," saith Lancelot, "He is the best knight of the world. I myself have felt the goodness of his knighthood and his valour, for right sorely did he wound me or ever I knew him or he me." "And what is your name?" saith the King. "Sir, I am called Lancelot of the Lake, King Ban's son of Benoic." "Ha," saith the King, "you are nigh of our lineage, you ought to be good knight of right, and so are you as I have heard witness, Lancelot," saith the King. "Behold there the chapel where the most Holy Graal taketh his rest, that appeared to two knights that have been herewithin. I know not what was the name of the first, but never saw I any so gentle and quiet, nor had better likelihood to be good knight. It was through him that I have fallen into languishment. The second was Messire Gawain." "Sir," saith Lancelot, "the first was Perceval your nephew." "Ha!" saith King Fisherman, "take heed that you speak true!"