wn I came, getting a thrust from the Captain, at the same
time, that almost broke my shoulder-bone. "This was sufficient," they
said, "for the laws of chivalry;" and I was glad to get off so.

After that the gentlemen riders, of whom there were no less than seven,
in complete armor, and the professionals, now ran at the ring; and the
Baron was far, far the most skilful.

"How sweetly the dear Baron rides," said my wife, who was always ogling
at him, smirking, smiling, and waving her handkerchief to him. "I say,
Sam," says a professional to one of his friends, as, after their course,
they came cantering up, and ranged under Jemmy's bower, as she called
it:--"I say, Sam, I'm blowed if that chap in harmer mustn't have been
one of hus." And this only made Jemmy the more pleased; for the fact is,
the Baron had chosen the best way of winning Jemimarann by courting her
mother.

The Baron was declared conqueror at the ring; and Jemmy awarded him
the prize, a wreath of white roses, which she placed on his lance; he
receiving it gracefully, and bowing, until the plumes of his helmet
mingled with the mane of his charger, which backed to the other end of
the lists; then galloping back to the place where Jemimarann was seated,
he begged her to place it on his helmet. The poor girl blushed very
much, and did so. As all the people were applauding, Tagrag rushed up,
and, laying his hand on the Baron's shoulder, whispered something in his
ear, which made the other very angry, I suppose, for he shook him off
violently. "Chacun pour soi," says he, "Monsieur de Taguerague,"--which
means, I am told, "Every man for himself." And then he rode away,
throwing his lance in the air, catching it, and making his horse caper
and prance, to the admiration of all beholders.

After this came the "Passage of Arms." Tagrag and the Baron ran courses
against the other champions; ay, and unhorsed two apiece; whereupon the
other three refused to turn out; and preciously we laughed at them, to
be sure!

"Now, it's OUR turn, Mr. CHICOT," says Tagrag, shaking his fist at the
Baron: "look to yourself, you infernal mountebank, for, by Jupiter,
I'll do my best!" And before Jemmy and the rest of us, who were quite
bewildered, could say a word, these two friends were charging away,
spears in hand, ready to kill each other. In vain Jemmy screamed; in
vain I threw down my truncheon: they had broken two poles before I could
say "Jack Robinson," and were driving at