lished warrior.

In a few seconds, the preliminary arrangements were complete; and, with
lances in rest, the opponents approached. In the first encounter, to the
amazement of all, Garcia was unhorsed, and fell heavily to the ground.

"She is innocent! She is innocent!" shouted the multitude.

"God be praised! though I have lost a son," was the subdued ejaculation
of the king.

"I am prepared, in defense of the much-injured lady, to do combat to the
death," said the stranger knight. "Base and dastardly villain! confess
thy unnatural crime, or prepare to meet me once more, when I swear I
will not let thee escape so lightly."

Garcia hesitated; he was evidently torn by conflicting emotions.
Conscious guilt--fear of the just retribution of Heaven, executed by the
stranger's avenging sword--urged him to confess his villainy. On the
other hand, apprehension of the execrations of the multitude, and the
indignation of his injured parents, restrained him from making a frank
avowal of his crime.

"Remount, miscreant! and make ready for another encounter, or confess
that you have lied in your throat," exclaimed the stranger, sternly.

Before Garcia could reply, an aged and venerable ecclesiastic threw
himself between the opponents.

"In the name of Heaven! I command ye to withhold from this unnatural
strife," he exclaimed, addressing them; "brothers are ye; the blood of a
common father flows in your veins. Ramiro--forbear. Garcia--the combat
this day has testified to your guilt; make the only atonement in your
power, by a full confession."

Ejaculations of astonishment and pity burst from all the spectators.
"Long live the noble bastard! The base-born has made base the well-born!
The step-son has proved the true son! Praise be to the Virgin, the
mother of the people has not been left without a godson to fight for
her!" And all the matrons, and many even of the hardened warriors among
the multitude, wept with tenderness and joy.

In a few moments the agitated queen found herself in her husband's arms.
He implored her forgiveness for the sorrow she had endured; nor could
she withhold it, even for a moment, when she listened to the avowals of
the degraded Garcia, who confessed how, step by step, he had poisoned
his father's mind by tales of her infidelity, in revenge for her
refusal, and that of Pedro Sese, to intrust him with Sancho's favorite
charger, black Ilderim.

Nuna turned from her abject son, and motioned her yo