into his side. He rolled over on the plain in the agonies of
death.

They raised the knight from the ground, and Sherasmin hastened to offer
him a draught from the fairy cup. The wine sparkled to the brim, and
the warrior put forth his lips to quaff it, but it shrunk away, and did
not even wet his lips. He dashed the goblet angrily on the ground, with
an exclamation of resentment. This incident did not tend to make either
party more acceptable to the other; and what followed was worse. For
when Huon said, "Sir knight, thank God for your deliverance,"--"Thank
Mahomet, rather, yourself," said he, "for he has led you this day to
render service to no less a personage than the Prince of Hyrcania."

At the sound of this blasphemy Huon drew his sword and turned upon the
miscreant, who, little disposed to encounter the prowess of which he
had so lately seen proof, betook himself to flight. He ran to Huon's
horse, and lightly vaulting on his back, clapped spurs to his side, and
galloped out of sight.

The adventure was vexatious, yet there was no remedy. The prince and
Sherasmin continued their journey with the aid of the remaining horse
as they best might. At length, as evening set in, they descried the
pinnacles and towers of a great city full before them, which they knew
to be the famous city of Bagdad.

They were well-nigh exhausted with fatigue when they arrived at its
precincts, and in the darkness, not knowing what course to take, were
glad to meet an aged woman, who, in reply to their inquiries, offered
them such accommodations as her cottage could supply. They thankfully
accepted the offer, and entered the low door. The good dame busily
prepared the best fare her stores supplied,--milk, figs, and
peaches,--deeply regretting that the bleak winds had nipped her
almond-trees.

Sir Huon thought he had never in his life tasted any fare so good. The
old lady talked while her guests ate. She doubted not, she said, they
had come to be present at the great feast in honor of the marriage of
the Sultan's daughter, which was to take place on the morrow. They
asked who the bridegroom was to be, and the old lady answered, "The
Prince of Hyrcania," but added, "Our princess hates him, and would
rather wed a dragon than him." "How know you that?" asked Huon; and the
dame informed him that she had it from the princess herself, who was
her foster-child. Huon inquired the reason of the princess's aversion;
and the woman pleased to fi