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HOW PETER MET THE SPANIARD
JOHN CASTELL
PETER GATHERS VIOLETS
LOVERS DEAR
CASTELL'S SECRET
FAREWELL
NEWS FROM SPAIN
D'AGUILAR SPEAKS
THE SNARE
THE CHASE
THE MEETING ON THE SEA
FATHER HENRIQUES
THE ADVENTURE OF THE INN
INEZ AND HER GARDEN
PETER PLAYS A PART
BETTY SHOWS HER TEETH
THE PLOT
THE HOLY HERMANDAD
BETTY PAYS HER DEBTS
ISABELLA OF SPAIN
BETTY STATES HER CASE
THE DOOM OF JOHN CASTELL
FATHER HENRIQUES AND THE BAKER'S OVEN
THE FALCON STOOPS
HOW THE _MARGARET_ WON OUT TO SEA
ENVOI

 

Again the clarions blew, and again they started forward, and presently 

again they met in mid career. As before, the lances struck upon the 

shields; but so fearful was the impact, that Peter's shivered, while 

that of Morella, sliding from the topmost rim of his foe's buckler, got 

hold in his visor bars. Back went Peter beneath the blow, back and still 

back, till almost he lay upon his horse's crupper. Then, when it seemed 

that he must fall, the lacings of his helm burst. It was torn from his 

head, and Morella passed on bearing it transfixed upon his spear point. 

 

"The Falcon falls," screamed the spectators; "he is unhorsed." 

 

But Peter was not unhorsed. Freed from that awful pressure, he let drop 

the shattered shaft and, grasping at his saddle strap, dragged himself 

back into the selle. Morella tried to stay his charger, that he might 

come about and fall upon the Englishman before he could recover himself; 

but the brute was heady, and would not be turned till he saw the wall of 

faces in front of him. Now they were round, both of them, but Peter had 

no spear and no helm, while the lance of Morella was cumbered with his 

adversary's casque that he strove to shake free from it, but in vain. 

 

"Draw your sword," shouted voices to Peter--the English voices of Smith 

and his sailors--and he put his hand down to do so, then bethought him 

of some other counsel, for he let it lie within its scabbard, and, 

spurring the white horse, came at Morella like a storm. 

 

"The Falcon will be spiked," they screamed. "The Eagle wins!--the Eagle 

wins!" And indeed it seemed that it must be so. Straight at Peter's 

undefended face drove Morella's lance, but lo! as it came he let fall 

his reins and with his shield he struck at the white plumes about its 

point, the plumes torn from his own head. He had judged well, for up 

flew those plumes, a little, a very little, yet far enough to give him 

space, crouching on his saddle-bow, to pass beneath the deadly spear. 

Then, as they swept past each other, out shot that long, right arm of 

his and, gripping Morella like a hook of steel, tore him from his 

saddle, so that the black horse rushed forward riderless, and the white 

sped on bearing a double burden. 

 

Grasping desperately, Morella threw his arms about his neck, and 

intertwined, black armour mixed with white, they swayed to and fro, 

while the frightened horse beneath rushed this way and that till, 

swerving suddenly, together they fell upon the sand, and for a moment 


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