protruded further than the visor, making the helm
look like a horrible head of a fish. The crest was
formed of two great spreading wings of an eagle, one
black, the other red, and amid the feathers of these wings
were the membranous, twisted and almost living branches
of a huge seaweed which bore more resemblance to a
polypus than to a plume. From the middle of the plume
rose a buckled strap, which reached to the angle of a rough
wooden pitchfork, the handle of which was stuck in the
ground, and from there descended to a hand, which held it.

To the left of the escutcheon was the figure of a woman,
standing. It was an enchanting vision. She was tall and
slim, and wore a robe of brocade which fell in ample folds
about her feet, a ruff of many pleats and a necklace of
large gems. On her head was an enormous and superb turban
of blond hair on which rested a crown of filigree that
was not round, and that followed all the undulations of the
hair. The face, although somewhat too round and large,
was exquisite. The eyes were those of an angel, the mouth
was that of a virgin; but in those heavenly eyes there was
a terrestrial look and on that virginal mouth was the smile
of a woman. In that place, at that hour, on that tapestry,
this mingling of divine ecstasy and human voluptuousness
had something at once charming and awful about it.

Behind the woman, bending towards her as though whispering
in her ear, appeared a man.

Was he a man? All that could be seen of his body--legs,