Awaking, they found themselves lying in the glade where they had come
upon the three red pavilions. Their horses were cropping at the
turf, beside them, and Sir Dinar's horse stood in sight, a little way
off. But Sir Dinar was already deep in the forest, twirling and
spinning among the rotten leaves, and on his arm hung a corrupting
corpse. For a whole day they sought him and found him not (for he
heard nothing of their shouts), and towards evening mounted and rode
forward after the Sancgrael; on which quest they died, all three,
each in his turn.

But Sir Dinar remained, and twirled and skipped till the body he held
was a skeleton; and still he twirled, till it dropped away piecemeal;
and yet again, till it was but a stain of dust on his ragged sleeve.
Before this his hair was white and his face wizened with age.

But on a day a knight in white armour came riding through the forest,
leaning somewhat heavily on his saddle-bow: and was aware of an old
decrepit man that ran towards him, jigging and capering as if for
gladness, yet caught him by the stirrup and looked up with rheumy
tears in his eyes.

"In God's name, who art thou?" asked the knight. He, too, was past
his youth; but his face shone with a marvellous glory.

"I am young Sir Dinar, that was made a knight of the Round Table but
five days before Pentecost. And I know thee. Thou art Sir Galahad,
who shouldst win the Sancgrael: therefore by Christ's power rid me of
this enchantment."