place, ready for the third course. And, ah! Hildegardis
herself, overcome by surprise, had greeted him with a blush
and a look of kindness; it seemed to him as if the
overwhelming joy of victory were already gained. But it was
not so, for the valiant Froda, burning with noble shame, had
again tamed his affrighted steed, and, chastising him sharply
with the spur for his share in this mischance, said in a low
voice, "Beautiful and beloved lady, show thyself to me--the
honour of thy name is at stake." To every other eye it seemed
as if a golden rosy-tinted summer's cloud was passing over the
deep-blue sky, but Froda beheld the heavenly countenance of
his lady, felt the waving of her golden tresses, and cried,
"Aslauga!" The two rushed together, and Edwald was hurled
from his saddle far upon the dusty plain.

Froda remained for a time motionless, according to the laws of
chivalry, as though waiting to see whether any one would
dispute his victory, and appearing on his mailed steed like
some lofty statue of brass. All around stood the multitude in
silent wonderment. When at length they burst forth into
shouts of triumph, he beckoned earnestly with his hand, and
all were again silent. He then sprang lightly from his
saddle, and hastened to the spot where the fallen Edwald was
striving to rise. He pressed him closely to his breast, led
his snow-white steed towards him, and would not be denied
holding the stirrups of the youth whilst he mounted. Then he
bestrode his own steed, and rode by Edwald's side towards the
golden bower of Hildegardis, where, with lowered spear and
open vizor, he thus spoke: "Fairest of all living ladies, I
bring you here Edwald, your knightly bridegroom, before whose