Aspa lingered a little to see something of these wonders. The conjurer was a slender youth, a Celt, to judge by the dazzling white skin of his face and bare arms, and by his long yellow hair; but this supposition was belied by his coal-black eyes. And he really performed wonders in the eyes of his simple audience. Now he sprang up, turned over and over in the air, and fell, now on his hands, now on his feet. Then he seemed to devour glowing coals with great appetite, and in their place, to spit out coins; then he swallowed a dagger a foot long and afterwards drew it out of the back of his head, throwing it up in the air together with three or four others, and catching them in turn by the handle, to the great enjoyment of the spectators, who rewarded him with laughter and cries of admiration. But Aspa had already lingered too long. She looked after her mistress, and observed that her path was intercepted by a troop of Italian carriers and livery-servants, who evidently had not recognised the Queen, and who passed straight before her on their way to the river, joking and making a great disturbance. They appeared to be pointing and throwing stones at some object which Aspa could not distinguish. She was just about to hurry after her mistress, when the conjurer upon the platform near her suddenly uttered a shrill cry. Aspa turned in affright, and saw the youth take an immense leap over the heads of the spectators, and rush at the Italians. He was already in their midst, and, bending down, disappeared for a moment. But he quickly rose to his feet, and one and then another of the Italians fell prone under his blows. In a moment Aspa stood at the Queen's side, who had quietly withdrawn from the turmoil, but, to her surprise, stopped short at a little distance, pointing at the group with her finger. And indeed the sight was a strange one. With incredible strength and still greater agility the conjurer held his assailants off. Springing at his adversaries, turning and bending, retreating and then suddenly darting forward to pull the nearest down by his foot, or to overthrow him with a powerful blow, he defended himself bravely, and that without any weapon, with his right hand alone; for in the left he held something close to his breast, as if hiding and protecting it. This unequal combat lasted several minutes. The conjurer was pushed nearer and nearer to the water by the angry and noisy crowd. Suddenly a naked blade glittered. One of the livery servants, enraged at receiving a severe blow, drew his knife and sprang at the conjurer from behind. With a cry the latter fell; his enemies rushed upon him. "Help! drag them away! help the poor man!" cried Mataswintha to the soldiers, who now approached from the forsaken platform; "I, your Queen, command you!"