himself; and she flattered herself that she attraeted no little attention.  And now that the whole of the procession had come up, the picture was certainly magnificent, and well worth contemplation.  Everything was favourable to the enjoyment of the spectacle.  The day was bright and beautiful, and a sparkling sunshine lighted up the splendid accoutrements of the knights, the gorgeous caparisons of their steeds, and the rich habiliments of their attendants; while a gentle breeze stirred the plumes upon the helmets, and fluttered the bandrols on their lances.  The effect was heightened by enlivening strains of minstrelsy, and the fanfares of the trumpeters.  The utmost enthusiasm was awakened among the spectators, and their acclamations were loud and long.

At this juncture, Dick Taverner, who had been shouting as lustily as the rest, tossing his cap in the air, and catching it dexterously as it fell, held his breath and clapped his bonnet on his head, for an object met his eye which fixed his attention.  It was the sombre figure of a knight accoutred in black armour, who was pressing his steed through the throng in the direction of the fountain.  His beaver was up, and the sinister countenance was not unknown to the apprentice.

“Saints defend us!” he ejaculated.  “Is it possible that can be Sir Giles Mompesson?  What doth he here amidst this noble company?  The villainous extortioner cannot surely be permitted to enter the lists.”

“Hold your peace, friend, if you are wise,” muttered a deep voice behind him.

“No, I will not be silent,” rejoined the apprentice, without looking round at his cautioner, but keeping his eye fixed upon Sir Giles.  “I will tell the felon knight my mind.  I am not afraid of him.  Harkye, my masters,” he called, in a loud voice, to those around him.  “Do you know who that black raven before you is?  If not, I will tell you.  He would peck out your eyes if he could, and devour you and your substance, as he has done that of many others.  That bird of ill omen is Sir Giles Mompesson.”

“Impossible!” cried a bystander, indignantly.  “Yet, now I look again, ’tis certainly he.”

“As certain as that we are standing here,” said the apprentice; “and if you want further proof, behold, he is closing his visor.  He thinks to hide himself from our notice; but the trick shall not avail him.  A groan for the knavish extortioner, my masters—­a deep groan for Sir Giles Mompesson!”

Thus enjoined, a great hooting was made by the bystanders, and Sir Giles’s name was coupled with epithets that could not be very agreeable to his ear.

“You were best let him alone, fool,” cried the deep voice behind Dick.  “You will only bring yourself into trouble.”