"Oh, he’s follering, surely!" "Then he’d best look sharp, for there’s the Breton knight going to begin." All eyes were now turned upon the lists again. The Marshal and Herald had returned. After speaking a few words to the Captain of the Wight, and handing him a note which the ragged man had given them, they took up their positions, and once more proclaimed silence. The Captain of the Wight unfolded the scrap of paper, and with evident difficulty read the contents. His brow contracted, and a deep flush passed over his face. "By St Nicholas, but ’tis too bold! He presumes over much on my knightly courtesy and the generosity of my nature," he muttered. And now the mail-clad figures had taken up their positions. The cautioning words came, soon followed by the order to go, and they rode for each other. The Breton well knew the importance of avoiding any catastrophe. Being a smaller and far lighter cavalier than the heavy man-at-arms opposed to him, he determined to husband his strength. He tilted therefore in such a way as to receive the least possible shock from his antagonist’s spear, while he was little careful of doing him any harm, so long only as he maintained his own seat. Being very skilful, Sir Alain de Kervignac attained his object completely, riding rather wide of the barrier, and so receiving the lance thrust of his adversary more athwart than directly on his breastplate. The first two courses were ridden with no damage to either, but in the last one the Breton was struck so fiercely by Master Meaux that a part of his vambrace was bent back, and had it not broken off he must have been unhorsed; as it was, he recovered his seat to the admiration of every one, and rode back to the end of the lists, waving his spear aloft. It was now young Trenchard’s turn. No scruples of courtesy interfered any longer: the Breton was tilting for honour and to win the prize. Changing his tactics, he charged the young man with fierce ardour, and the poor youth was hurled backwards over the crupper. "Alack, poor lad!" said Mistress Bremeskete, "but he did right manfully." "Now, surely that weakly Master Oglander will never try his luck?" But it seemed otherwise, for he rode out to take up his position. At this moment there was a loud murmur from the crowd. Shouts of derision and astonishment were heard on all sides. "Mercy on us, what a rusty suit of armour! Surely he might have spent a little more money on his outside!" said one. "’Tis one he’s fished out o’ the sea, and forgot to scrape the whelks off!" cried another. "But he’s surely no knight--only a poor hobbler," said Humphrey.