gered in the lists, to look upon
and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.

The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded
together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now
exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating
in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other
sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the
galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety
for the night, and wrangled among themselves for the half-used bottles
of wine and relics of the refreshment which had been served round to the
spectators.

Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and
these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of
the armourers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order
to repair or alter the suits of armour to be used again on the morrow.

A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to
two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.

CHAPTER X

Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls
The sick man's passport in her hollow beak,
And in the shadow of the silent night
Doth shake contagion from her sable wings;
Vex'd and tormented, runs poor Barrabas,
With fatal curses towards these Christians.
--Jew of Malta

The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion, than squires
and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm him, to bring
fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal
on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one
desired to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet
had refused, even at the command of Prince John, to lift his visor or
to name his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified.
The Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his
own squire, or rather yeoman--a clownish-looking man, who, wrapt in a
cloak of dark-coloured felt, and having his head and face half-buried
in a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito
as much as his master. All others being excluded from the tent, this
attendant relieved his master from the more burdensome parts of his
armour, and placed food and wine before him, which the exertions of the
day rendered very acceptable.

The Knight had scarce