"Out of the way, rascals!" shouted a vehement youthful voice; and a handsome fellow, with a red feather in his cap, and a wild, audacious countenance, sprang forward. "Whoever dares to touch the drost, save I, I cut down on the spot," he continued: "one to one, and ten to Satan! Come, Drost Peter Hessel! This is the second time we have met since you made me an outlaw in Denmark. On Vaarby Bridge I had a hindrance: had my brother's blood not been a little thicker than the water of the stream, you should never have crossed the bridge. We stand now on a greater bridge--one that leads from earth to heaven, or--hell, as it may happen; for here must either you or I bid this fair and pleasant world good night!" With these words, he threw aside his battle-axe and drew his sword, which was of the same length as Drost Peter's; and, that he might not have any advantage over his antagonist, who stood bareheaded before him, he cast his feathered cap on the floor. "Well, if it is to be a regular cockfight, I am quite willing," growled Niels Breakpeace; "but if you don't make quick work of him, Sir Bigsnout, I shall." The coarse robber chief and his comrades laughed, well pleased, and formed a close circle round the two antagonists. There then began a warm and serious combat, but conducted according to all the laws and usages of chivalry. Placing foot to foot, they swerved not a hair's breadth from their positions. Neither of them used the point of the sword, but hewed with the sharp edge, and aimed only at the head and breast, or between the four limbs, as it is termed. The single light on the table only partially illumined the apartment; and the clashing swords of the knights met so quickly, that a glimpse of them could scarcely be caught. Every instant threatened a mortal blow to one of them; but they both appeared equally skilled in their weapon, and neither of them could succeed in wounding his adversary, though, like constant lightning, their blades flashed over their heads. "Shall I put an end to the game?" growled Niels Breakpeace, raising his broad battle-axe. "By Satan! are you invulnerable?" shouted the robber-knight, springing impatiently towards his antagonist, and, contrary to the rules, with a daring and dangerous lunge. But at the same instant the sword fell from his grasp to the floor, together with the first three fingers of his right hand. "Now, you shall never more swear falsely to your king and knighthood!" cried Drost Peter, enraged. "Cut him down, the Satan!" shouted the furious robbers, pressing in upon the drost, who, with his back against the wall, defended himself desperately.