He laughed
when he saw the slim form of his antagonist; and his soul rejoiced to
meet the coming battle. He dug his spurs into the enormous horse
he rode: the enormous horse snorted, and squealed, too, with fierce
pleasure. He jerked and curveted him with a brutal playfulness, and
after a few minutes' turning and wheeling, during which everybody had
leisure to admire the perfection of his equitation, he cantered round to
a point exactly opposite his enemy, and pulled up his impatient charger.
The old Prince on the battlement was so eager for the combat, that he
seemed quite to forget the danger which menaced himself, should his slim
champion be discomfited by the tremendous Knight of Donnerblitz. "Go
it!" said he, flinging his truncheon into the ditch; and at the word,
the two warriors rushed with whirling rapidity at each other.
And now ensued a combat so terrible, that a weak female hand, like that
of her who pens this tale of chivalry, can never hope to do justice to
the terrific theme. You have seen two engines on the Great Western
line rush past each other with a pealing scream? So rapidly did the two
warriors gallop towards one another; the feathers of either streamed
yards behind their backs as they converged. Their shock as they met was
as that of two cannon-balls; the mighty horses trembled and reeled with
the concussion; the lance aimed at the Rowski's helmet bore off the
coronet, the horns, the helmet itself, and hurled them to an incredible
distance: a piece of the Rowski's left ear was carried off on the point
of the nameless warrior's weapon.
Pages:
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418
419