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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

lay there stunned. 

 

"Who conquers?" gasped the crowd; while others answered, "Both are 

sped!" And, leaning forward in her chair, Margaret tore off her veil and 

watched with a face like the face of death. 

 

See! As they had fallen together, so together they stirred and 

rose--rose unharmed. Now they sprang back, out flashed the long swords, 

and, while the squires caught the horses and, running in, seized the 

broken spears, they faced each other. Having no helm, Peter held his 

buckler above his head to shelter it, and, ever calm, awaited the 

onslaught. 

 

At him came Morella, and with a light, grating sound his sword fell upon 

the steel. Before he could recover himself Peter struck back; but 

Morella bent his knees, and the stroke only shore the black plumes from 

his casque. Quick as light he drove at Peter's face with his point; but 

the Englishman leapt to one side, and the thrust went past him. Again 

Morella came at him, and struck so mighty a blow that, although Peter 

caught it on his buckler, it sliced through the edge of it and fell upon 

his unprotected neck and shoulder, wounding him, for now red blood 

showed on the white armour, and Peter reeled back beneath the stroke. 

 

"The Eagle wins!--the Eagle wins! Spain and the Eagle" shouted ten 

thousand throats. In the momentary silence that followed, a single 

voice, a clear woman's voice, which even then Margaret knew for that of 

Inez, cried from among the crowd: 

 

"Nay, the Falcon stoops!" 

 

Before the sound of her words died away, maddened it would seem, by the 

pain of his wound, or the fear of defeat, Peter shouted out his war-cry 

of _"A Brome! A Brome"_! and, gathering himself together, sprang 

straight at Morella as springs a starving wolf. The blue steel flickered 

in the sunlight, then down it fell, and lo! half the Spaniard's helm lay 

on the sand, while it was Morella's turn to reel backward--and more, as 

he did so, he let fall his shield. 

 

"A stroke!--a good stroke!" roared the crowd. "The Falcon!--the Falcon!" 

 

Peter saw that fallen shield, and whether for chivalry's sake, as 

thought the cheering multitude, or to free his left arm, he cast away 

his own, and grasping the sword with both hands rushed on the Spaniard. 

From that moment, helmless though he was, the issue lay in doubt no 

longer. Betty had spoken of Peter as a stubborn swordsman and a hard 

hitter, and both of these he now showed himself to be. As fresh to all 

appearance as when he ran the first course, he rained blow after blow 


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