s
with which a cavalier was accustomed to show his command over his
charger. Gravely and sternly he inclined his head to the prince, and
took his place at the further end of the arena.

He had scarce done so before Sir Nigel rode out from the holders'
enclosure, and galloping at full speed down the lists, drew his charger
up before the prince's stand with a jerk which threw it back upon
its haunches. With white armor, blazoned shield, and plume of
ostrich-feathers from his helmet, he carried himself in so jaunty and
joyous a fashion, with tossing pennon and curveting charger, that a
shout of applause ran the full circle of the arena. With the air of a
man who hastes to a joyous festival, he waved his lance in salute, and
reining the pawing horse round without permitting its fore-feet to touch
the ground, he hastened back to his station.

A great hush fell over the huge multitude as the two last champions
faced each other. A double issue seemed to rest upon their contest, for
their personal fame was at stake as well as their party's honor. Both
were famous warriors, but as their exploits had been performed in widely
sundered countries, they had never before been able to cross lances. A
course between such men would have been enough in itself to cause the
keenest interest, apart from its being the crisis which would decide who
should be the victors of the day. For a moment they waited--the German
sombre and collected, Sir Nigel quivering in every fibre with
eagerness and fiery resolution. Then, amid a long-drawn breath from
the spectators, the glove fell from the marshal's hand, and the two
steel-clad horsemen met like a thunderclap in front of the royal stand.
The German, though he reeled for an instant before the thrust of the
Englishman, struck his opponent so fairly upon the vizor that the laces
burst, the plumed helmet flew to pieces, and Sir Nigel galloped on down
the lists with his bald head shimmering in the sunshine. A thousand
waving scarves and tossing caps announced that the first bout had fallen
to the popular party.

The Hampshire knight was not a man to be disheartened by a reverse. He
spurred back to the pavilion, and was out in a few instants with another
helmet. The second course was so equal that the keenest judges could not
discern any vantage. Each struck fire from the other's shield, and each
endured the jarring shock as though welded to the horse beneath him. In
the final bout, however, Sir Nigel