o soon. Long ranks of shining spears were seen
glittering in the distance, and the army of the Rowski soon made its
appearance in battle's magnificently stern array. The tents of the
renowned chief and his numerous warriors were pitched out of arrow-shot
of the castle, but in fearful proximity; and when his army had taken
up its position, an officer with a flag of truce and a trumpet was seen
advancing to the castle gate. It was the same herald who had previously
borne his master's defiance to the Prince of Cleves. He came once
more to the castle gate, and there proclaimed that the noble Count of
Eulenschreckenstein was in arms without, ready to do battle with the
Prince of Cleves, or his champion; that he would remain in arms for
three days, ready for combat. If no man met him at the end of that
period, he would deliver an assault, and would give quarter to no single
soul in the garrison. So saying, the herald nailed his lord's gauntlet
on the castle gate. As before, the Prince flung him over another glove
from the wall; though how he was to defend himself from such a warrior,
or get a champion, or resist the pitiless assault that must follow, the
troubled old nobleman knew not in the least.

The Princess Helen passed the night in the chapel, vowing tons of
wax-candles to all the patron saints of the House of Cleves, if they
would raise her up a defender.

But how did the noble girl's heart sink--how were her notions of the
purity of man shaken within her gentle bosom, by the dread intelligence
which reached her the next morning, after the defiance of the Rowski! At
roll-call it was discovered that he on whom she principally relied--he
whom her fond heart had singled out as her champion, had proved
faithless! Otto, the degenerate Otto, had fled! His comrade, Wolfgang,
had gone with him. A rope was found dangling from the casement of their
chamber, and they must have swum the moat and passed over to the
enemy in the darkness of the previous night. "A pretty lad was this
fair-spoken archer of thine!" said the Prince her father to her; "and a
pretty kettle of fish hast thou cooked for the fondest of fathers." She
retired weeping to her apartment. Never before had that young heart felt
so wretched.

That morning, at nine o'clock, as they were going to breakfast, the
Rowski's trumpets sounded. Clad in complete armor, and mounted on his
enormous piebald charger, he came out of his pavilion, and rode slowly
up and down in