The door now opened suddenly, and in his armour of blue and gold, gleaming like the vault of heaven in a starry night, appeared at it Sir Folko de Montfaucon. He wore his golden helmet with the visor still open and a squire followed bearing his great battle-sword. “Dear brother,” said he to Sir Otto, “we have spent the time like good friends together up to this day, and interchanged many kind looks. Now, however, it may come to pass, that after we have drawn down our visors, we shall never behold each other again. Therefore have I come to you at this time, that I may once more heartily embrace you; and that, ere our meeting in the lists, we may pray together in the chapel before the altar.” Therewith he spread his arms, into which Sir Otto threw himself, and the two champions embraced with such fervour, as if the warmth of their friendship could have melted the cold iron with which they were covered. Then a trumpet sounded from the court, and they broke asunder suddenly. “It is the first signal,” said Sir Folko. “My noble adversary will now, if it so please him, gird on my sword, and I shall render him the like service.” This was accordingly done; and, as the massive glittering weapons were adjusted, they related on both sides by whom these swords had been presented to them, Sir Folko’s being the gift of his stepfather, Sir Huguenin, and that of Sir Otto, as we have already told, being received from his father, Sir Hugh von Trautwangen. Thereafter they went arm in arm down to the chapel, where they kneeled together, one on each side of the altar, and remained there in silent prayer, until the trumpets sounded another signal. Then rising up, they looked once more with great kindness on each other, drew down their visors, and came forth into the castle court, which was now brightly illumined by the sunbeams.