do." "It will be best for us," he answered, "to turn out of the
wood, and to rest, and wait for the day, in order to pursue our
journey." "That will we, gladly," said she. And they did so.
Having dismounted himself, he took her down from her horse. "I
cannot, by any means, refrain from sleep, through weariness," said
he. "Do thou, therefore, watch the horses, and sleep not." "I will,
Lord," said she. Then he went to sleep in his armour, and thus
passed the night, which was not long at that season. And when she
saw the dawn of day appear, she looked around her, to see if he were
waking, and thereupon he woke. "My Lord," she said, "I have desired
to awake thee for some time." But he spake nothing to her about
fatigue, as he had desired her to be silent. Then he arose, and said
unto her, "Take the horses, and ride on; and keep straight on before
thee as thou didst yesterday." And early in the day they left the
wood, and they came to an open country, with meadows on one hand, and
mowers mowing the meadows. And there was a river before them, and
the horses bent down, and drank the water. And they went up out of
the river by a lofty steep; and there they met a slender stripling,
with a satchel about his neck, and they saw that there was something
in the satchel, but they knew not what it was. And he had a small
blue pitcher in his hand, and a bowl on the mouth of the pitcher.
And the youth saluted Geraint. "Heaven prosper thee," said Geraint,
"and whence dost thou come?" "I come," said he, "from the city that
lies before thee. My Lord," he added, "will it be displeasing to
thee if I ask whence thou comest also?" "By no means--through yonder
wood did I come." "Thou camest not through the wood to-day." "No,"
he replied, "we were in the wood last night." "I warrant," said the
youth, "that thy condition there last night was not the most
pleasant, and that thou hadst neither meat nor drink." "No, by my
faith," said he. "Wilt thou follow my counsel," said the youth, "and