Dermot thereon awoke from his swoon and, warrior-like, reached out his hand for his arms.

But the champion said, "Wait awhile, my son, I have not come to do thee hurt or harm.

Thou hast chosen an ill place to rest and slumber in, before the city of thine enemy.

Rise and follow me, and I shall bestow thee far better than that." Dermot then rose and followed the champion, and long and far they journeyed until they came to a high-towered fortress, wherein were thrice fifty valiant men-at-arms and fair women; and the daughter of that champion, a white-toothed, rosy-cheeked, smooth-handed, and black-eyebrowed maid, received Dermot, kindly and welcomefully, and applied healing herbs to his wounds, and in no long time he was made as good a man as ever.

And thus he remained, and was entertained most royally with the best of viands and of liquors.