"I have a message for thee, Sir Walter. May I see thee in thy tent?" There was no time for more. "Yes," I answered, in the same low tone. As I rode back to take up my position for the tilt my mind kept tormenting me in its desire to recall where and when I had before heard that voice. The attempt was useless; so placing my lance in rest I made ready for the trumpet's signal. Loud did they blow. A rushing rattle, followed by a clattering, tearing sound, and both spears burst into a thousand slivers, as though some foul fiend had been confined within the shaft of each, and at the instant of encounter they spread apart their arms and threw their frail wooden prisons from them with the contempt that Sampson had for cords. Neither had an advantage. Both his horse and mine own were forced back on their haunches; but we both kept our seats full firm. And thus in succession did we break three pairs of lances' without either being able to unhorse, or gain any perceptible advantage over the other. Therefore our contest was declared to be a fair and equal one, without a victor. After this the heralds again rode into the lists and announced that no more single contests should be permitted; but that the contest of the six and twenty knights should be the next feature of that day's list of exhibitions of knightly feats of arms. However, preceding this there was now to be an exhibition of skilful archery and sword play, by the yeomanry of England, and the men-at-arms. When this announcement was made the majority of the knights withdrew them to their tents, as they had no interest in these contests. Soon after my friend and I had dismounted and entered our tent the knight with whom I had last contended, and which had so strangely spoken with me in the lists, came to where Michael stood before the door and enquired of him if his master were within. Hearing his voice I went to the door and invited him to enter. "Ah! Monsieur, I hope that I intrude not," said he, as he saw Harleston with me. "Nay, be assured Sir Knight, whose name I have not the honour of knowing, that any message that thou art pleased to give me shall be common to my friend, Sir Frederick Harleston, and me." "Then everything is well. I may then speak out boldly and inform you, gentlemen, what is my true name: and I now do tell ye that it is to but few here that it is known. My name then is Count Louis de Saint-Esteve, though in England, upon my present mission, I am known as Sir Gil de Trailles." We expressed our pleasure at the acquaintance and asked him to be seated. I then ordered Michael to close the flap of the tent, and to himself remain outside, to see that no one should overhear our conversation; for I could see by the stranger's manner that what he had to say was most secret. After a silence of a few moments he said, in an almost whisper:--