I can then betake myself to that fair land to which I first went for her sake; left for her sake, and to which I shall most gladly return, if her need of me is over.

The time I state allows a four days' margin for vacillation." "My lord," said the Knight, humbly, "forgive the wrong I did you.
Forgive that I took in earnest that which you meant in jest; or rather, I do truly think, that which you hoped would turn me from my purpose.
Alas, I would indeed that I might rightly be turned therefrom." "Hugh," said the Bishop, eagerly, "you deemed her justified in coming to you, apart from any vision." "True," replied the Knight, "but I cannot feel justified in taking her, and all she would give me, knowing she gives it, with a free heart, because of her faith in the vision.

Moments of purest joy would be clouded by my secret shame.

Being aware of the deception, I too should be deceiving her; I, whom she loves and trusts." "To withhold a truth is not to lie," asserted the Bishop.
"My lord," replied Hugh d'Argent, rising to his feet and standing erect, his hand upon his sword, "I cannot reason of these things; I cannot define the difference between withholding a truth and stating a lie.

But when mine Honour sounds a challenge, I hear; and I ride out to do battle--against myself, if need be; or, if it must so be, against another.