lifeless form. Honorio had leaped from his horse, and was now kneeling on the body of the huge brute. He had already put an end to his struggles with the hunting-knife which gleamed within his grasp. He looked even more handsome and active than the princess had ever seen him in list or tournament. Thus had he oftentimes driven his bullet through the head of the Turk in the riding-school, piercing his forehead under the turban, and, carried onward by his rapid courser, had oftentimes struck the Moor's head to the ground with his shining sabre. In all such knightly feats he was dexterous and successful, and here he had found an opportunity for putting his skill to the test.
"Despatch him quickly," said the princess, faintly: "I fear he may injure you with his claws."
"There is no danger," answered the youth; "he is dead enough: and I do not wish to spoil his skin,—it shall ornament your sledge next winter."
"Do not jest at such a time," continued the princess: "such a moment calls forth every feeling of devotion that can fill the heart."
"And I never felt more devout than now," added Honorio, "and therefore are my thoughts cheerful: I only consider how this creature's skin may serve your pleasure."
"It would too often remind me of this dreadful moment," she replied.
"And yet," answered the youth, with burning cheek, "this triumph is more innocent than that in which the arms of the defeated are borne in proud procession before the conqueror."
"I shall never forget your courage and skill," rejoined the princess; "and let me add that you may, during your whole life, command the gratitude and favour of the prince. But rise,—the monster is dead: rise, I say; and let us think what next is to be done."
"Since I find myself now kneehng before you," re-
