refully scrutinised, and all chance of foul play averted. The priests,
too, had blessed the armour and weapons from magic spells and "foul
negromancie."

The barriers were built of stout boards, firmly riveted together; the
royal pavilion being on the southern side, richly canopied and
embroidered with costly devices. Galleries were provided for the nobles,
not a few of whom, with their courtly dames, were expected to be
present.

The lists were sixty paces in length and forty in breadth between the
platforms on which the knights' tents were erected. The ground within
was made hard and level, the loose stones and other impediments being
carefully removed. There were two entrances, east and west, well guarded
and strongly fenced with wooden-bars about seven feet high, so that a
horse might not leap over. The tents of the warriors were fancifully
decorated, every one having his shield newly emblazoned and hung out in
front, where the pages and esquires watched, guarding vigilantly these
sacred treasures. Nothing was heard but the hoarse call of the trumpet,
the clank of mail, and the prancing of horses, pawing and eager for the
battle.

Long before the appointed hour the whole city was in motion. Isabella,
too, whose bright eyes had not closed since the first gleam had visited
her chamber, was early astir. An ugly dream, it is said, troubled her.
Though of ripe years, yet, as we have noticed before, love had not yet
aimed his malicious shafts at her bosom, nor even tightened his
bowstring as she tripped by, defying his power; so that the dream, which
in others would appear but as the overflowing of a youthful and ardent
imagination, seemed to her altogether novel and unaccountable, raising
up new faculties, and endowing her with a train of feelings heretofore
unknown. No wonder that her looks were betrayers: her whole deportment
manifested some hidden power controlling her high spirit, insomuch that
her favourite maiden was fain to abate her morning gossip; yet Isabella
was not averse to speech, though the words seemed to linger heavily on
her tongue, losing that lightness and exuberance which betokens the mind
free from care and oppression.

She had dreamed that in her own wild woods a knight accosted her: she
attempted to fly, but was withheld by some secret influence. He raised
his visor, smiling as he bent his knee in token of homage. He was a
stranger. Grasping her hand, she felt the cold hard pressure of his
ga