His look of dismay changed to one of relief.
A knight had risen to his feet. It was Agravaine.
'Ah!' said the king, drawing a deep breath.
Sir Agravaine gulped. He was feeling more nervous than he had ever felt
in his life. Never before had he risen to volunteer his services in a
matter of this kind, and his state of mind was that of a small boy
about to recite his first piece of poetry.
It was not only the consciousness that every eye, except one of Sir
Balin's which had been closed in the tournament that afternoon, was
upon him. What made him feel like a mild gentleman in a post-office who
has asked the lady assistant if she will have time to attend to him
soon and has caught her eye, was the fact that he thought he had
observed the damsel Yvonne frown as he rose. He groaned in spirit. This
damsel, he felt, wanted the proper goods or none at all. She might not
be able to get Sir Lancelot or Sir Galahad; but she was not going to be
satisfied with a half-portion.
The fact was that Sir Agravaine had fallen in love at first sight. The
moment he had caught a glimpse of the damsel Yvonne, he loved her
devotedly. To others she seemed plain and unattractive. To him she was
a Queen of Beauty. He was amazed at the inexplicable attitude of the
knights around him. He had expected them to rise in a body to clamour
for the chance of assisting this radiant vision.
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