weariness and loss of blood, was
again the victor, and Otho's best knight, Sir Guichard of Lombardy, owed
his life to the swiftness of his horse. His victory, however, was to Sir
Guy as sad as many defeats, for his constant companions lay dead before
him.

'Ah, Felice, this is your doing,' said he.

* * * * *

Long were it to tell of the deeds done by the noble knight Sir Guy; of
the tourneys that he won, of the cities that he conquered--even at the
game of chess he managed to be victorious! Of course many men were
sorely jealous of him and his renown, and wove plots for his ruin, but
somehow or other he contrived to escape them all.

By this time Sir Guy had grown to love wandering and fighting so well
that he had well-nigh forgotten who had sent him from his native land,
and why he was not dwelling in his father's castle. Indeed, so wholly
had the image of Felice faded from his memory, that when Ernis emperor
of Constantinople, under whose banner he was serving, offered him the
hand of his only daughter and half of his dominions, Sir Guy at once
accepted his gifts.

The sight of the wedding-ring brought him back to his allegiance. He no
longer loved Felice it is true, and he _did_ love a younger and gentler
maiden. But he must abide by the oath he had sworn, though it were to
his own undoing.

His grief at the loss of the princess Lorette sent Sir Guy to his bed
for many days, but as soon as the fever left him he felt that he could
stay at court no longer, and began to make plans to seek other
adventures in company with his friend Heraud and a lion which he had
saved from the claws of a dragon.

Since that day this lion had never quitted his side, except at his
master's bidding, and he always slept on the floor by his master's bed.
The emperor and all his courtiers were fond of the great beast, who
moved among them as freely as a kitten, but Sir Morgadour, the chief
steward of the emperor of the West, who was visiting the court, had ever
been Sir Guy's mortal enemy, and one evening, thinking himself unseen,
gave the lion a mortal wound as he was sleeping quietly in the garden.
He had just strength enough to drag himself to Sir Guy's feet, where he
died, and a damsel who had marked the cruel deed proclaimed loudly that
it was done by Sir Morgadour. In an instant Sir Guy's dagger was buried
in his breast; but when he grew calmer he remembered that his presence
at court might bring