But the beggar looked at him and said, seeing his
scornful frown: "I do not wish your gold that you give with scorn.
Better to me a poor man's crust." But Sir Launfal rode proudly down the
road on his way, for he felt that he could no longer listen to the poor
beggar. Then he rode over land and sea, over mountain and plain,
searching everywhere for the Holy Grail, and, although it sometimes
seemed very near, he did not find it.
He had now grown to be an old man. The helmet and armor were rusted, his
clothes had become thin and ragged, he was stooped and gray, and his
eyes had grown dim with the years, but still he searched, and said in
his heart: "I will find the Holy Grail." Then he seemed to be near his
old home one night, and he said to himself: "Before I go on my way I
will once more look at my old home." And he entered the gate, and as he
was walking up the path he heard a voice, tired and weak, and it said:
"Will you please give me something?" He looked down, and there by his
feet lay the beggar who had asked for something at his castle gate the
morning he had started on his pilgrimage.
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