and unwitting was his neglect to ask the question. His guilt was thoughtlessness and stupid ignorance. It is impossible not to think of Oedipus, and compare the Christian mediaeval treatment of unwitting crimes with the classical Greek consideration of the same dark subject. Oedipus sinned as unwittingly as Parzival, and as impulsively. His ruin was complete. Afterwards—in the Oedipus Coloneus—his character gathers greatness through submission to the necessary consequences of his acts; here was his spiritual expiation. On the other hand, mercy, repentance, hope, the uplifting of the unwitting sinner, forgiveness and consolation, soften and glorify the Christian mediaeval story.
Parzival stayed some days at the hermitage. At parting the hermit spoke words of comfort to him: "Leave me your sins. I will be your surety with God for your repentance. Perform what I have bidden you, and do not waver."
The story here turns to Gawain. In the tale of his adventures there comes a glimpse of Parzival. A proud lady, for whose love Gawain is doing perilous deeds, tells him, she has never met a man she could not bend to her will and love, save only one. That one came and overthrew her knights. She offered him her land and her fair self; his answer put her to shame: "The glorious Queen of Pelrapeire is my wife, and I am Parzival. I will have none of your love. The Grail gives me other care."
Gawain won this lady, and conducted her to Arthur's Court, whither his rival the haughty King Gramoflanz was summoned to do battle with him. On the morning set for the combat Gawain rode out a little to the bank of a river, to prove his horse and armour. There at the river rode a knight; Gawain deemed it was Gramoflanz. They rush together; man and horse go down in the joust. The knights spring to their feet and fight on with their swords. Meanwhile Gramoflanz, with a splendid company, has arrived at Arthur's Court. The lists are ready; Gramoflanz stands armed. But where is Gawain? He was not wont to tarry. Squires hurry out in search, to find him just falling before the blows of the stranger. They call, Gawain! and the unknown knight throws away his sword with a great cry: "Wretched and worthless! Accursed is my dishonoured hand.
