shock of their meeting, the bold Danish steed reared, starting
aside as if in fear; the rider staggered, his stroke passed
harmless by, and both steed and knight fell clanging to the
ground before the steadfast spear of Edwald, and lay
motionless upon the field.

Edwald did now as Froda had done before. In knightly wise he
stood still a while upon the spot, as if waiting to see
whether any other adversary were there to dispute his victory;
then he sprang from his steed, and flew to the assistance of
his fallen friend.

He strove with all his might to release him from the weight of
his horse, and presently Froda came to himself, rose on his
feet, and raised up his charger also. Then he lifted up his
vizor, and greeted his conqueror with a friendly smile, though
his countenance was pale. The victor bowed humbly, almost
timidly, and said, "You, my knight, overthrown--and by me!
I understand it not."

"It was her own will," answered Froda, smiling. "Come now to
your gentle bride."

The multitude around shouted aloud, each lady and knight bowed
low, when the aged duke pointed out to them the lovely pair,
and at his bidding, the betrothed, with soft blushes, embraced
each other beneath the green garlands of the golden bower.

That very day were they solemnly united in the chapel of the
castle, for so had Froda earnestly desired. A journey into a