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CHAP XXIV second, breaks; a word is needed that the sword may make its bearer peerless. Do you know this word? If so, none can withstand you—have you asked the question?" "I asked nothing."

"Woe is me that mine eyes have seen you! You asked no question! You saw such wonders there—the Grail, the noble ladies, the bloody spear. Wretched, accursed man, what would you have from me? Yours the false wolf-tooth! You should have taken pity on your host, and asked his ail—then God had worked a miracle on him. You live, but dead to happiness."

"Dear cousin, speak me fair. I will atone for any ill."

"Atone? nay, leave that! At Munsalvaesch your honour and your knightly praise vanished. You get no more from me."

Parzival's fault was not accident; it sprang from what he was—unwise. He could atone only through becoming wise through the endurance of years of trial. The unhappy knight rode on, loosing his helmet to breathe more freely. Soon he chanced to overtake the lady Jesute, travelling on a mean horse in wretched guise, her garments torn, her face disfigured. He offered aid, and she, recognizing him, said with tears that her sorrows all were due to him; she was the lady whose girdle and ring his fool's hand had taken, and now her husband Orilus treated her as a woman of shame. Here the proud duke himself came thundering up, to see what knight dared aid his cast-off wife. Parzival conquered him after a long combat; and the three went to a hermitage where the victor made oath that it was he who took by force the ring and girdle from the blameless lady. Returning the ring to Orilus, he sent him with his lady, reconciled and happy, to Arthur's Court. Thus Parzival's knighthood made amends for his first foolish act. He found a strong lance in the hermitage, took it, and departed.

When Orilus and his lady had been received with honour at Arthur's Court, the king with all his knights set forth towards Munsalvaesch to find the mighty man calling himself the Red Knight, who had sent so many conquered pledges of his prowess; for he wished to make him a knight of the Round Table. It was winter. Parzival—the Red