It was ten yards away.
When I got back and entered, the king was within, and was opening the shutter that closed the window-hole, to let in air and light.
The place was full of a foul stench.

I put the bowl to the woman's lips, and as she gripped it with her eager talons the shutter came open and a strong light flooded her face.

Smallpox! I sprang to the king, and said in his ear: "Out of the door on the instant, sire! the woman is dying of that disease that wasted the skirts of Camelot two years ago." He did not budge.
"Of a truth I shall remain--and likewise help." I whispered again: "King, it must not be.

You must go." "Ye mean well, and ye speak not unwisely.

But it were shame that a king should know fear, and shame that belted knight should withhold his hand where be such as need succor.