stars, nothing heard except the rustle of the breeze round the curtains of the fair white linen bower of the Princess Apraxia.
While it was still early morning they arose, and were setting out again upon their way, when, looking back, they saw a Tatar horseman in pursuit of them, his steed all bespattered with the mire of the plain. When Dunai was aware of this, he sent Nikitich forward to Kiev town with the Princess Apraxia, but remained himself to meet the bold adventurer, who surely had not heard how quiet Dunai had wooed the Princess Apraxia for his royal master.
In the midst of the plain the combatants met, and, without taking time to observe each other closely, but each taking the other for an accursed Tatar, they fell to resounding blows. In a few moments quiet Dunai was unhorsed, but he sprang at once to his nimble feet and fought his foe with mace and spear and sword, until he laid him prone upon the broad bosom of moist Mother Earth. Then quiet Dunai drew his dagger:
"Tell me now," he said, as he brushed the dew of onset from his eyes with his left sleeve, "the name that you bear and the name of the accursed horde from whence you come."
"If I sat on your white breast," said the stranger, "I would not ask your name and horde, but would stab you to the heart." Then quiet Dunai raised his dagger and would have pierced the heart of his foe, but with his will, or without his will, his arm stiffened at the shoulder and that blow never fell,
