Then Sir Folko put up his gleaming sword into the scabbard, threw back his visor, went towards Gabrielle, and, kneeling, begged that she would bestow on him the prize of the combat. Weeping bitterly, the beautiful damsel once more drew the golden chain from her bosom, with feelings how different from those with which she had shewn it just before to the young people! Yet before her trembling fingers had unclasped the chain, Otto stepped up to Sir Folko de Montfaucon, and said,--“Sir Knight, if it please you to allow that a coat of armour be given me, also a horse, lance, and sword, I shall yet contend with you for the ring, in the name of this noble lady, provided she deems me not unworthy of such high honour.” At these words, a glance of hope and joy flew over Gabrielle’s countenance. In a moment, she thought of the many old stories in which she had read of the most renowned knights, and even giants, having been vanquished by young men, scarcely beyond the age of boyhood, who fought in defence of oppressed damsels. Folko had raised himself from the ground, and measured with his looks his unexpected adversary. Suddenly, however, he turned away with a smile, and said ironically, “Young squire! young squire! where are your golden spurs? Do you think yourself already qualified to break a lance with knights in the field? Three sword-strokes on the shoulders, and a midnight watch of your armour, then come to me again, and I shall willingly meet you.” Whereupon he kneeled again before Gabrielle, and begged her for the ring; which he had no sooner received into his hands, than (after making a deep obeisance) he remounted his silver-grey steed, and, followed by all his train, galloped away. Gabrielle, still weeping bitterly, turned to her attendants, who, directly after the unhappy issue of the tournament, had begun to take down the tents, and pack them up, with all their appurtenances, on led horses; which work they had now completed. Not a quarter of an hour longer, said the unhappy lady, would she remain on the place where she had encountered such misfortune. And without taking heed of Otto’s attempts to console her, or offers of his services, she turned away from him as from a prattling foolish child; and, having mounted her palfrey, rode away through the darkness. Otto, moreover, called out after her; “So, may Heaven aid me, noble lady, as I shall certainly not rest till I have become a knight, nor till I have laid the ring at your feet.” Even this vow, however, seemed to make no impression on her ears; and in a short time the trampling of her horse, and noise of her attendants, died away in the distance.