his armor for dints or holes made by the horns of the bull; but beyond traces of snow, packed in between joints of the armor, they could find nothing. The bull had taken revenge mainly on the horse, now dead, with all his entrails out under him; De Lorche had not been struck. He had only fainted from the fall, and, as appeared later, his right arm was disjointed. When they removed his helmet and poured wine into his mouth, he opened his eyes straightway and regained consciousness. Seeing the anxious faces of young and comely damsels bent over him, he said in German,—
"Surely I am in paradise, and angels are above me."
The damsels did not understand what he said, it is true, but glad that he had recovered and spoken, they smiled at him, and, with the help of hunters, raised him from the snow. Feeling pain in his right arm he groaned; with his left he leaned on the arm of one of the "angels;" for a while he stood motionless, fearing to move a step, for he did not feel firm on his feet. Then he cast a glance, which was dull yet, over the field of struggle. He saw the yellow carcass of the bull, which near by seemed enormous. He saw Danusia wringing her hands over Zbyshko, and Zbyshko himself on a cloak.
"Did that knight come to aid me?" inquired he. "Is he alive?"
"He is hurt seriously," answered one of the courtiers, who knew German.
"From this day forth I shall fight not against him, but for him," said the man of Lorraine.
At that moment Prince Yanush, who had been standing over Zbyshko, approached De Lorche and praised him, saying that by his daring deed he had guarded the princess and other ladies from great peril, and had even saved their lives, perhaps, for which, in addition to knightly rewards, he would be surrounded by fame among people then living, and among their descendants.
"In these effeminate times," said he, "fewer and fewer real knights pass through the world; be my guest, therefore, as long as is possible, or stay in Mazovia altogether, for you have won my favor, and you will win as easily the favor of people by your worthy deeds."
De Lorche's heart, eager for glory, was melted by these words; for when he considered that he had accomplished such a preponderant deed of knighthood, and won such
