The success was as complete as it was unexpected. No one, not even the most experienced knight there, had any idea that the new comer would have displayed such skill and enormous strength. For to unhorse a man-at-arms of the weight and address of Master Meaux, required a very great exercise of both qualities. There now only remained one survivor on each side. There could be no doubt of the issue, after such an exhibition of power. "’Tis the best lance I have seen," said Sir John Trenchard. "Ay, he’s a stout lance, but I have seen a better," said the Captain of the Wight, smiling; "but let us see what he will do now." To the astonishment of everyone, the unknown knight rode the next three courses exactly as he had previously done in his last encounter with Ralph, only in the last round he carried off the little glove on the point of his lance, which fluttered in Ralph’s helmet. As this closed the day’s proceedings, the knights who had taken part in the tilting had now to ride round the lists, with their faces uncovered, that all might see who had done bravely. There was great curiosity to see the face of the unknown knight, but he, after having spoken a few words to the Marshal of the Lists, who communicated with Lord Woodville, did not open his visor, to the great disappointment of the crowd. "Certes, ’tis like Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristram, when they came among press of knights disguised," said Yolande; "I marvel who he is! Do you know, Lord Captain?" "’Tis a custom the laws of the tourney allow," said the Lord Woodville, "so long as the Herald and the Judges know; but they are bound to secrecy." This was a very evasive answer, but it was the only one Yolande was likely to get. As the competitors rode round the lists--such of them, that is, as could appear--there were loud shouts of applause for the two Breton knights, Master Meaux, and, above all, for Ralph Lisle. The strange knight would have received applause, had not his refusal to comply with the usual custom created a feeling of resentment in the crowd. "I don’t know but that he bean’t as crusty as he is rusty," said Master Paxhulle. "Maybe his face isn’t that pleasant that we’d be any the better for seeing it," said Mistress Bremeskete, with a toss of the head. As Ralph Lisle passed the place where the little girl was standing smiling at him with a happy smile, he looked at her, curious to discover who she could be, and was startled at seeing in her the same poor beggar maid whose old father he had befriended at Thruxton, when he met them as he was flying his gerfalcon for the first time. She was holding up the other tiny glove, the fellow to the one he had worn in his helmet, and which he did not know he had lost. "I am so glad," said the little girl, as he rode past. *CHAPTER XVI.* *HOW THE COCKEREL WAS PETTED.*