The Breton knight, as expert as he was brave and strong, seeing how eager and boastful the young man was, determined to read him a lesson. As Bowerman leant well forward, too much so for a firm seat, instead of aiming his spear at the page’s body, or, indeed, directing it at all, the Sire de Kervignac struck a violent blow with the handle or butt-end of his lance over the lance of his antagonist, beating it down, and breaking it all to pieces, with the further result that Bowerman, who was preparing to push with all his might against the expected resistance of the body of his opponent, meeting with no obstacle, and drawn still further over by the blow on his lance, overbalanced himself, and before he could recover his seat, a rude knock from the butt-end of his antagonist’s spear, as he rode past, completed his discomfiture, and he fell headlong to the ground. "’Twas all his own fault," said Tom o’ Kingston. "The Frenchman never meant to hurt him, and would have left him alone, had he not been such a braggart. It ought to do him good." It was so evident to all the crowd that Bowerman had drawn this fall upon himself that they applauded the knight, and had no words of sympathy for the esquire. The only antagonist left who had not yet tried his luck was Ralph Lisle. "That surely can’t be Master Lisle, the new page?" said Mistress Bremeskete. "Ay, but ’tis though; he sits stiffly, don’t he?" "And what a size he looks. He’ll be a great knight one day. As ’tis, he looks as if he could swallow the little Frenchman at the other end." "Marry, you’re right, and ’tis a fine horse he’s on. ’Twas Mistress Lisle sent him that this morning." "My! you don’t say so! And she gives her favour to that French knight, and a horse to her kinsman. Well, I’d rather be her kinsman. Leastways, he’s got something." Ralph’s heart was bounding with excitement. He tried to remember all the instructions he had received. He could see Yolande seated amid the beauty and rank of the Island. She was looking his way, not at the knight who wore her favour. She had bidden him win it with the horse he bestrode. His blood rose; he would do all he could. He sat his horse with thews strung tight and nerves braced. "Are you ready?" Down came his lance. "My faith! he looks a gallant knight," said the Captain of the Wight to Yolande. "I trust Sir Amand will spare him." "I’faith, Sir Captain, I think ’twill be the other way," said Yolande. "He’s well skilled, I hear, and as for strength and weight, look at horse and man." Lord Woodville glanced at Yolande a questioning glance, and smiled. "It’s no use your smiling like that, my Lord Woodville. I know what you are thinking about; but do you, with your knowledge of the world, think I should fall in love with a boy?" and Yolande laughed a scornful laugh. Lord Woodville made no answer; he only sighed, and turned to look at the lists. The last word had been said.