g the fair sex; hence his constant run of luck with the dice;
hence, also, his invulnerableness to the sword."

"'Tis said, also, that he has a familiar spirit, who attends him in the
semblance of a black dog," said Montaigu.

"Or in that of a dwarf, like the sooty imp of Cosmo Ruggieri," said
Harcourt. "Is it not so?" he asked, turning to the Scot.

"He lies in his throat who says so," cried Ogilvy, losing all patience.
"To one and all of you I breathe defiance; and there is not a brother in
the college to which I belong who will not maintain my quarrel."

A loud laugh of derision followed this sally; and, ashamed of having
justly exposed himself to ridicule by his idle and unworthy display of
passion, the Scotsman held his peace and endeavored to turn a deaf ear
to their taunts.

The gates of the College of Navarre were suddenly thrown open, and a
long-continued thunder of applause bursting from within, announced the
conclusion of the debate. That it had terminated in favor of Crichton
could no longer be doubted, as his name formed the burden of all the
plaudits with which the courts were ringing. All was excitement: there
was a general movement. Ogilvy could no longer restrain himself. Pushing
forward by prodigious efforts, he secured himself a position at
the portal.

The first person who presented himself to his inquiring eyes was a
gallant figure in a glittering steel corselet crossed by a silken sash,
who bore at his side a long sword with a magnificent handle, and upon
his shoulder a lance of some six feet in length, headed with a long
scarlet tassel, and brass half-moon pendant. "Is not Crichton
victorious?" asked Ogilvy of Captain Larchant, for he it was.

"He hath acquitted himself to admiration," replied the guardsman, who,
contrary to the custom of such gentry (for captains of the guard have
been fine gentlemen in all ages), did not appear to be displeased at
this appeal to his courtesy, "and the rector hath adjudged him all the
honors that can be bestowed by the university."

"Hurrah for old Scotland," shouted Ogilvy, throwing his bonnet in the
air; "I was sure it would be so; this is a day worth living for. _Hoec
olim meminisse juvabit_."

"Thou at least shalt have reason to remember it," muttered Caravaja,
who, being opposite to him, heard the exclamation--"and he too,
perchance," he added, frowning gloomily, and drawing his cloak over
his shoulder.

"If the noble Crichton be compatriot of yo