here," continued the King, snapping a diamond hilted sword across his knee, and tossing the fragments towards the intended combatants, "here is a sword, which you may apportion between yourselves, when you have settled which is to be the huckster and which the nobleman. Gentlemen, you wished your prizes to be shared. You are gratified. You may retire."

Covered with confusion at this public and severe rebuke, the crest-fallen knights withdrew silently from the royal presence, and quitting the lists, hastened to conceal their disgrace by mingling with the crowd; while a respectful

murmur of applause ran round the assembly, in approbation of the King's conduct. There were now but two combatants left, whose conflict was therefore anticipated with a deeper and more condensed interest. The Bohemian Baron, a man of large stature, and who had shown that he possessed activity commensurate with his strength, wore a dark steel armour, damascened

cidentally striking it to the earth with his hoof, galloped forwards as he had been accustomed to do in former tiltings. No sooner had Jocelyn perceived the accident, than darting to the spot with a speed scarcely inferior to that of the animal, he snatched up the weapon, and ran rapidly after Sir Guy, who was at the same time checking his almost ungovernable steed, and looking round, with extended hand, to receive the lance. Taking an ungenerous advantage of this unguarded and defenceless moment, the Bohemian spurred forward, and tilting at him on the posite side, just as Sir Guy was leaning over towards his squire, easily unhorsed him, and threw him to the ground with considerable violence. Clamour and confusion instantly pervaded the whole assemblage, some calling out that it was a base blow, and ought not to be allowed; others supporting the Bohemian, and crying, that it was good and warranted law of battle. Crofts had run up to assist Sir Guy, who seemed to be

op

prepared for the onset. Jocelyn urged his horse to its full speed, and lowering his head to the off-side of the animal's neck as he approached, contrived to avoid the Bohemian's lance, at the same time directing his own so fortunately, that it fixed itself in the dragon's mouth of his adversary's helmet, dragging him backwards from his horse by the violence of the concussion, while the casque, wrenched from its fastenings as he fell to the earth, remained transfixed upon the lance.

Apparently unconscious of the applauses with which the whole circus rang at this achievement, Jocelyn rode round to that part of the lists, whither Sir Guy had been conveyed, and dismounting from his steed, presented to him the lance with the trophy at its head. Fresh acclamations were now heard, and Jocelyn accidentally looking up to the gallery immediately above him, was struck by the singular beauty of two large lustrous black eyes gazing intently