"So slim a figure as that can never compete with Donnerblitz,"
said he, moodily, to his daughter; "but whoever he be, the fellow puts a
good face on it, and rides like a man. See, he has touched the Rowski's
shield with the point of his lance! By St. Bendigo, a perilous venture!"
The unknown knight had indeed defied the Rowski to the death, as the
Prince of Cleves remarked from the battlement where he and his daughter
stood to witness the combat; and so, having defied his enemy, the
Incognito galloped round under the castle wall, bowing elegantly to the
lovely Princess there, and then took his ground and waited for the foe.
His armor blazed in the sunshine as he sat there, motionless, on his
cream-colored steed. He looked like one of those fairy knights one has
read of--one of those celestial champions who decided so many victories
before the invention of gun powder.
The Rowski's horse was speedily brought to the door of his pavilion; and
that redoubted warrior, blazing in a suit of magnificent brass armor,
clattered into his saddle. Long waves of blood-red feathers bristled
over his helmet, which was farther ornamented by two huge horns of
the aurochs. His lance was painted white and red, and he whirled the
prodigious beam in the air and caught it with savage glee.
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