One day, to pass the time away, we readof Lancelot—how love had overcome him.We were alone, and we suspected nothing.And time and time again that reading ledour eyes to meet, and made our faces pale,and yet one point alone defeated us.When we had read how the desired smilewas kissed by one who was so true a lover,this one, who never shall be parted from me,while all his body trembled, kissed my mouth.A Gallehault indeed, that book and hewho wrote it, too; that day we read no more.
One day, to pass the time away, we readof Lancelot—how love had overcome him.We were alone, and we suspected nothing.And time and time again that reading ledour eyes to meet, and made our faces pale,and yet one point alone defeated us.When we had read how the desired smilewas kissed by one who was so true a lover,this one, who never shall be parted from me,while all his body trembled, kissed my mouth.A Gallehault indeed, that book and hewho wrote it, too; that day we read no more.
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