ungentle." And he gave her a box on the ear. Thereupon she raised a
loud and piercing shriek, and her lamentations were much greater than
they had been before, for she considered in her mind that had Geraint
been alive, he durst not have struck her thus. But, behold, at the
sound of her cry, Geraint revived from his swoon, and he sat up on
the bier, and finding his sword in the hollow of his shield, he
rushed to the place where the Earl was, and struck him a fiercely-
wounding, severely-venomous, and sternly-smiting blow upon the crown
of his head, so that he clove him in twain, until his sword was
stayed by the table. Then all left the board, and fled away. And
this was not so much through fear of the living as through the dread
they felt at seeing the dead man rise up to slay them. And Geraint
looked upon Enid, and he was grieved for two causes; one was, to see
that Enid had lost her colour and her wonted aspect, and the other,
to know that she was in the right. "Lady," said he, "knowest thou
where our horses are?" "I know, Lord, where thy horse is," she
replied, "but I know not where is the other. Thy horse is in the
house yonder." So he went to the house, and brought forth his horse,
and mounted him, and took up Enid from the ground, and placed her
upon the horse with him. And he rode forward. And their road lay
between two hedges. And the night was gaining on the day. And lo!
they saw behind them the shafts of spears betwixt them and the sky,
and they heard the trampling of horses, and the noise of a host
approaching. "I hear something following us," said he, "and I will
put thee on the other side of the hedge." And thus he did. And
thereupon, behold, a knight pricked towards him, and couched his
lance. When Enid saw this, she cried out, saying, "Oh! chieftain,
whoever thou art, what renown wilt thou gain by slaying a dead man?"
"Oh! Heaven," said he, "is it Geraint?" "Yes, in truth," said she.
"And who art thou?" "I am the Little King," he answered, "coming to