of a campaign are often less than
the evils with which life threatens us in the profoundest peace. As I
hear, you have gone through much misfortune, and at last come off
triumphantly!"

These well intended, but unlucky, words made the crater overflow. The
drunken Francis, prepared as he was by an evil hand, could see nothing
in them but the bitterest scorn, and became mad with wrath. For a while
he was silent, because he did not know with what language to hurl his
contempt and rage in the face of his adversary. At last he thundered
out, "Yes, indeed! And, as they tell me, you have so acted that an
honest man cannot drink out of the same cup with you."

Surprised by this insult, which came upon him like a lightning flash
from a clear sky, Tausdorf started back. With an awful sternness he
asked, "How could you drink to our eternal friendship but a few hours
since, if you knew this of me? In truth, you must be worse than I am in
your opinion. But now you will say who it is that has spread this
slander against me?"

"I had it from a good friend," retorted Francis defyingly.

"You will name him to me this very hour, and on this very spot!" cried
Tausdorf, with flashing eyes.

The drunkard gazed on the knight, who stood before him like an angry
Mars; and it seemed to him for a moment in his intoxication as if he
had gone too far.

"I will tell you at a fitter time," he stammered out: "I have it from a
woman."

The contradiction between this and the earlier statement enraged
Tausdorf still more.

"Do not stir!" he called out to his people, and led Francis impetuously
a few steps farther.

"Now, name the slanderer!"

Instead of reply Francis grasped at him, but with gigantic strength the
latter caught his opponent by the breast and flung him to the ground,
where he held him fast.

"If you are an honourable nobleman," groaned Francis under him, "let me
betake myself to my sword."

Tausdorf hastily let him loose, and went back a few paces. The latter
sprang up, frantic with rage, and tore his sword from the scabbard;
and, looking after the knight's people furiously, cried out, "Don't let
your servants help!"

Tausdorf called to them in Bohemian, "Whichever of you moves a hand, my
sword strikes him!"

"Draw!" roared Francis, with foaming mouth.

"Only in self-defence," said Tausdorf, and held out his blade.

Francis pressed upon him with furious blows. He merely defended
himself. During this the auburn-haire