a
knight's son from Smalling; but in the last course, which he rode
against Olaf of Trolle, who had stood a bye, his good honest beast came
to the tilt-cloth with knees trembling, and at a touch rolled over,
though between the two lances (I will swear) there was nothing to
choose. I was quick to pick up my dear lad; but he would have none of
my comfort, and limped away from the lists as one who had borne himself
shamefully. Yea, and my own heart was hot as I led Holgar back to
stable, without waiting to see the prize claimed by one who, though a
fair fighter, had not won it without foul aid.

Having stalled Holgar I had much ado to find his master again, and
endless work to persuade him to quit his sulks and join the other
suitors in the hall that night, when each presented his bride-gift.
Even when I had won him over, he refused to take the coffer I placed in
his hands, though it held his mother's jewels, few but precious.
But entering with the last, as became his humble rank of esquire, he
laid nothing at the lady's feet save his sword and the chain that she
herself had given him.

"You bring little, Squire Ebbe," said the Knight Borre, from his seat
beside his daughter.

"I bring what is most precious in the world to me," said Ebbe.

"Your lance is broken, I believe?" said the old knight scornfully.

"My lance is not broken," he answered; "else you should have it to match
your word." And rising, without a look at Mette, whose eyes were
downcast, he strode back to the door.

I had now given up hope, for the maid showed no sign of kindness, and
the old man and the youth were like two dogs--the very sight of the one
set the other growling. Yet--since to leave in a huff would have been
discourteous--I prevailed on my master to bide over the morrow, and even
to mount Holgar and ride forth to the hunt which was to close the
Bride-show. He mounted, indeed, but kept apart and well behind Mette
and her brisk group of wooers. For, apart from his lack of inclination,
his horse was not yet recovered; and by and by, as the prickers started
a deer, the hunt swept ahead of him and left him riding alone.

He had a mind to turn aside and ride straight back to Nebbegaard,
whither he had sent me on to announce him (and dismally enough I
obeyed), when at the end of a green glade he spied Mette returning alone
on her white palfrey.

"For I am tired of this hunting," she told him, as she came near.
"And you? Does it wear