Meanwhile the black knight had already laid prostrate another of his foes, of whom now only three remained. But these seemed rather exasperated than intimidated by the fall of their companions, and the fight continued with increased fury. The horses tore up the ground, and seemed themselves to take part in the conflict; wonder it was that the unconscious maiden was not crushed and trampled upon as she lay beneath their ironshod hoofs. The combatants, though panting with fatigue, weak with loss of blood or severe contusions, seemed to have no idea of anything but fighting to the death. And now the black knight suddenly reined his horse back a few paces, while the Frenchmen's hearts leaped with exultation as they thought that he was at last about to retreat. But they did not long enjoy this pleasing illusion, for an instant after he rode at them at full speed; and so well had he calculated his blow, that, even as he reached the nearest of them, helmet and head went flying across the road. This dexterous feat completed the discomfiture of the foreigners; for, astonished and terrified, St. Pol and his one remaining companion instantly turned rein and fled, in the full conviction that it was no mortal adversary they had encountered.
These events, which have taken so many words to describe, were crowded into a few rapid moments. The sun had not yet risen above the horizon, the fields still lay in dim twilight; but the veil of mist was already lifting itself from off the woods, and the tops of the trees were beginning to show a brighter green.
The black knight, now finding himself master of the field, with no more enemies in view, made haste to dismount, bound his horse to a tree, and proceeded to bestow his care upon the lady he had rescued, and who still lay senseless, under the corpse of the soldier which had fallen upon her, and to which, probably, she in a great measure owed her escape from the hoofs of the horses. Her face covered with mire and blood, her long hair trampled in the mud, her features were totally indistinguishable; nor, indeed, did her deliverer for the present seek to examine them more closely, his first care being to convey her to some place of greater security. With this object he raised her carefully from the ground, and carried her in his arms within the ruins of Nieuwenhove. Having laid her gently down upon the herbage in the courtyard, he proceeded to investigate the yet remaining portions of the building, if perchance some place of shelter should be found. At last he discovered one chamber of which the vaulting had not fallen in, and which might, in default of better, serve for a place of temporary refuge. The window-panes were gone, but otherwise the shelter was complete; there were even some tattered remnants of tapestry hanging from the walls, and pieces of broken furniture scattered about the floor, from portions of which he succeeded in putting together a kind of couch, which, rude as it was, was at least better than the cold and damp ground.
Well pleased at the result of his search, he returned to his insensible charge, and carried her to the temporary bed he had prepared for her. Here, with anxious care he laid her down, pillowing her head with a bundle of the tapestry rolled together. This done, he first cautiously satisfied himself that she was still alive and uninjured, and that the blood with which she was covered was not her own; then, returning to the scene of combat, he filled one of the helmets with water at a neighboring spring, and led his horse back within the ruins. His next care was to cleanse the lady's hair, face, and hands, from mud and gore, as completely as the means at his disposal and the gloom of the vaulted chamber would allow—a gloom, indeed (notwithstanding that the sun was by this time peeping above the horizon), which still rendered her features wholly indistinct, even though the hideous rnask which had concealed them was removed. Having now done all for her that the circumstances in which they were placed rendered possible, he left her for a while, in the hopes that rest and nature might gradually restore her.
The knight's attention was next bestowed on his horse and armor; a considerable time was spent in collecting a heap of forage for the one, and in cleaning the other from the marks of the combat. When this occupation was completed, and the sun stood high in the heavens, and the face of nature showed in all its varied colors, the sunbeams fell upon the window which lighted the chamber where the maiden lay; and thither the knight now returned, to avail himself of the increased light for making further acquaintance with his charge. He entered; she was sitting up upon her couch, surveying with an astonished air the bare and blackened walls of her apartment; but there was a wildness and fixedness in her gaze which spoke of deeper disturbance than mere astonishment. No sooner had the knight looked upon her than suddenly he turned ashy pale, a cold shudder ran over all his limbs, his blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins, and when he essayed to speak, he could only utter incoherent ejaculations; then, as suddenly, he rushed forward, and clasped the maiden in his arms, exclaiming in tones of mingled love and anguish:
"My own child! my poor Matilda! Have I then left my prison only to find you thus in the arms of death?"
But the maiden pushed him back from her with a look and gesture of passionate aversion.
"Traitor!" she exclaimed, "how dare you deal thus insolently with a daughter of the House of Flanders? Ah, you think that I
