"
"Pshaw," said the Templar, "I have seen thee bend thy lance
boldly against him in sport, and with equal chance of success.
Think thou art but in a tournament, and who bears him better in
the tilt-yard than thou?--Come, squires and armourers, your
master must be accoutred for the field."
The attendants entered accordingly, and began to arm the Marquis.
"What morning is without?" said Conrade.
"The sun rises dimly," answered a squire.
"Thou seest, Grand Master," said Conrade, "nought smiles on us."
"Thou wilt fight the more coolly, my son," answered the Templar;
"thank Heaven, that hath tempered the sun of Palestine to suit
thine occasion."
Thus jested the Grand Master. But his jests had lost their
influence on the harassed mind of the Marquis, and
notwithstanding his attempts to seem gay, his gloom communicated
itself to the Templar.
"This craven," he thought, "will lose the day in pure faintness
and cowardice of heart, which he calls tender conscience. I,
whom visions and auguries shake not---who am firm in my purpose
as the living rock--I should have fought the combat myself.
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