One day there came news from a country far to the west where lay the
possessions of the Knight. The enemy had robbed him of his treasure,
driven away his cattle, and he found it was best to hie him away and
rescue his inheritance and goods. He buckled on his sword and mounted
his good war-horse. He rode to the postern gate of the castle to make
his adieus to the Princess. When he told her he was going away to the
wild western country to do battle with the heathen, she grew pale and
her eyes took on a look of such pain and fear that the Knight's heart
leaped and then sank in his bosom, as his pride still kept him from
speaking the words that might have made all well.
She bade him farewell in a low voice, and tears even stood in her eyes,
but what could she say or do?
The Knight put spurs to his horse, and dashed away over the hills
without ever looking back, and the Princess stood looking over the gate
at him till the last sight of his plume below the brow of the hill. The
Knight was gone. Many suitors flocked about the Princess.
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