And with a furtive glance at his son`s face, the count went out of the room.... Nicholas had been prepared for resistance, but had not at all expected this.

"Thanks, trusty armourers," said the Knight.---"Wamba, let us close with them,"---and he rode straight to the thicket. He was met by six or seven men-at-arms, who ran against him with their lances at full career. Three of the weapons struck against him, and splintered with as little effect as if they had been driven against a tower of steel. The Black Knight's eyes seemed to flash fire even through the aperture of his visor. He raised himself in his stirrups with an air of inexpressible dignity, and exclaimed, "What means this, my masters!"---The men made no other reply than by drawing their swords and attacking him on every side, crying, "Die, tyrant!"