fair a foe." Without deigning a reply, the knight put spurs to his horse, and leaping the barriers disappeared in the wood. Rejoining his two friends in the pavilion who were condoling with each other over their inglorious defeat, Sancho burst into a stream of invective. "Ungrateful cravens," cried he, "to repine at heaven's grace. I would have given the brightest jewel in the crown of Navarre, for leave to set lance in rest against either of yon doughty knights." "Thou shouldst have been very welcome," exclaimed Raimond, laying his hand upon his wounded limb. "Our Lady grant henceforth that dame Fortune send all such favors to thee," and he laughed in spite of his discomfiture. A startling blast from the wood interrupted the colloquy, and Count Raimond petulantly exclaimed, "Methinks the foul fiends have congregated in the forest! That hath the sound of the last trumpet." "Aye, verily," replied Count Henry, reconnoitering from the door of the pavilion, "and yonder comes Death on the pale horse. Prince Sancho, thine hour has come, prepare to meet thy final overthrow." There seemed a terrible significance in the words, for upon a snowy charger, whose mane and tail nearly swept the ground, just entering the lists, was seen a knight, dressed in a suit of armor of such shining brilliancy as almost to dazzle the eyes of the beholders. His crest was a white dove with its wings spread, and conspicuous upon his right shoulder appeared a blood-red cross. He carried neither lance nor spear, but an immense battle-axe hung at his saddle-bow. "By my troth," said Sancho, "be he the angel of death himself, I will dispute his empire, even though he bring twelve legions of his mysterious retainers to back him. It shall not be said that the chivalry of Spain, aye, and of France to boot," casting a glance at his crest-fallen friends, "are but trophies of the prowess of these unknown demi-gods." "Heaven grant thou mayest make good thy boast, for truly these demi-gods wield no mortal weapons," said Count Raimond, with a bitter smile, as the prince anticipating a challenge rode forth to meet the white champion. Unpractised in the use of the mace, Sancho, whose ire was completely roused at seeing the honors of the day borne off by strangers, disregarded the laws of the tournament (which required the challenger to use the same weapons as his adversary), and seizing his spear, attacked his opponent with a fierce energy, which showed that he fought for deadly combat, and not for trial of skill in knightly courtesy. The brilliant figure, at the first rush, bowed his head, till the plumage of the dove mingled with the flowing mane of his courser, and suffered the animal to sheer to the right, thus compelling the prince, in his onward career, to make a similar involuntary obeisance as the result of his ineffectual thrust. Completing the demivolte, the two champions again returned to the onset; and now the mace of the white knight describing