A blow dealt madly at his head was the reply. 'Twas the last blow that
the Count of Eulenschreckenstein ever struck in battle! The curse was on
his lips as the crushing steel descended into his brain, and split it
in two. He rolled like a log from his horse: his enemy's knee was in
a moment on his chest, and the dagger of mercy at his throat, as the
knight once more called upon him to yield.
But there was no answer from within the helmet. When it was withdrawn,
the teeth were crunched together; the mouth that should have spoken,
grinned a ghastly silence: one eye still glared with hate and fury, but
it was glazed with the film of death!
The red orb of the sun was just then dipping into the Rhine. The unknown
knight, vaulting once more into his saddle, made a graceful obeisance to
the Prince of Cleves and his daughter, without a word, and galloped back
into the forest, whence he had issued an hour before sunset.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE MARRIAGE.
The consternation which ensued on the death of the Rowski, speedily sent
all his camp-followers, army, &c. to the right-about. They struck their
tents at the first news of his discomfiture; and each man laying hold
of what he could, the whole of the gallant force which had marched under
his banner in the morning had disappeared ere the sun rose.
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