sary, that Froda sank backwards on his steed, with
difficulty keeping his seat in his saddle, or holding firm in his
stirrups, whilst Edwald flew by unshaken, lowered his spear to salute
Hildegardis as he passed her bower, and then, amidst the loud applause
of the multitude, rushed to his place, ready for the third course. And,
ah! Hildegardis herself, overcome by surprise, had greeted him with a
blush and a look of kindness; it seemed to him as if the overwhelming
joy of victory were already gained. But it was not so, for the valiant
Froda, burning with noble shame, had again tamed his affrighted
steed, and, chastising him sharply with the spur for his share in
this mischance, said in a low voice, "Beautiful and beloved lady, show
thyself to me--the honour of thy name is at stake." To every other eye
it seemed as if a golden rosy-tinted summer's cloud was passing over the
deep-blue sky, but Froda beheld the heavenly countenance of his lady,
felt the waving of her golden tresses, and cried, "Aslauga!" The two
rushed together, and Edwald was hurled from his saddle far upon the
dusty plain.

Froda remained for a time motionless, according to the laws of chivalry,
as though waiting to see whether any one would dispute his victory,
and appearing on his mailed steed like some lofty statue of brass. All
around stood the multitude in silent wonderment. When at length they
burst forth into shouts of triumph, he beckoned earnestly with his hand,
and all were again silent. He then sprang lightly from his saddle, and
hastened to the spot where the fallen Edwald was striving to rise. He
pressed him closely to his breast, led his snow-white steed towards
him, and would not be denied holding the stirrups of the youth whilst
he mounted. Then he bestrode his own steed, and rode by Edwald's side
towards the golden bower of Hildegardis, where, with lowered spear and
open vizor, he thus spoke: "Fairest of all living ladies, I bring you
here Edwald, your knightly bridegroom, before whose lance and sword all
the knights of this tournament have fallen away, I only excepted, who
can make no claim to the choicest prize of victory, since I, as the
image on my breastplate may show, already serve another mistress."

The duke was even now advancing towards the two warriors, to lead them
into the golden bower, but Hildegardis restrained him with a look of
displeasure, saying immediately, while her cheeks glowed with anger,
"Then you seem, Sir Frod