“No!” said he, with a deep sigh, “the stain will indeed remain there for ever.” Then he strode up and down the room, more vexed and melancholy than ever. At length he overheard, in the next apartment, loud expressions of discontent, and even great wrath; then, fearful stamping on the floor, and execrations. As the voice spoke only of armour, greaves, corslet, and cuirass, he soon learned that all this anger arose because some one had got a coat of mail which by no means fitted. Wishing to escape from the conflict of his own feelings, Otto hastily rose, and threw open the door, which led into his neighbour’s room; whereupon a knight, half cased in armour, stepped up to him, and with equal impetuosity demanded what he wanted. Both, however, stood silent for a space, and gazing on each other; for Otto directly recognised the former opponent of Folko de Montfaucon, namely, the Count Archimbald von Waldeck; while the latter also seemed to remember the youthful witness of that combat, and his overthrow. In a short time they came to mutual explanations, and Count Archimbald said, “I am not vain enough to wish that you should keep me in countenance, and also fall before the powerful or fortunate arm of the French chevalier; on the contrary, I should be heartily glad if you could again recover, for the beautiful Gabrielle, her favourite ring; and if, to say the truth, there seems not much probability of this, yet no one can tell what is in store for him either of prosperous or evil fortune. You have my sincere good wishes for your undertaking, which may yet realize all your hopes. For the present, observe, I pray you, how the fates are tormenting me! In great wrath, at the events of that fatal evening, I had rashly sworn that I would never again wear my black and silver mail, with the eagle’s head-piece; and, moreover, that I would ride without armour, until I had even, thus defenceless, won a complete suit as the prize of a successful combat. In this undertaking I have at last succeeded; but mark only how pitiful must have been the limbs of my opponent! I cannot force myself into the greaves nor the armlets; the pigmy gloves are already thrown out at the window, and as for the corslet and cuirass, I have indeed drawn them on, but, as you perceive, they will by no means clasp together.” During these words, the knight heaved and writhed as if he would force the hauberk to expand, and in so doing, tore asunder some of the plates with a loud crash. Two squires who attended him drew near to repair this misfortune, but he repulsed them angrily. “It is all in vain,” said he, “therefore give yourselves no farther trouble. I have only to throw off these vile pigmy accoutrements, and for that purpose require no assistance.” Thereupon he tore open the half-closed buckles and straps, and took off the corslet and cuirass, throwing them on the ground with such violence, that the nails and hooks started out upon the floor. He then cast melancholy looks on his