“For all that,” said Annibaldi, “the brigand ought not to boast that a Roman knight shunned a Provencal lance.”

“Cease, I pray thee!” said Adrian, impatiently.  In fact, the young Colonna, already chafed bitterly against his discreet and dignified rejection of Montreal’s proffer, and recollecting with much pique the disparaging manner in which the Provencal had spoken of the Roman chivalry, as well as a certain tone of superiority, which in all warlike matters Montreal had assumed over him,—­he now felt his cheek burn, and his lip quiver.  Highly skilled in the martial accomplishments of his time, he had a natural and excusable desire to prove that he was at least no unworthy antagonist even of the best lance in Italy:  and, added to this, the gallantry of the age made him feel it a sort of treason to his mistress to forego any means of asserting her perfections.

It was, therefore, with considerable irritation that Adrian, as the pavilion of Montreal became visible, perceived the squire returning to him.  And the reader will judge how much this was increased when the latter, once more dismounting, accosted him thus: 

“My master, the Knight of St. John, on hearing the courteous answer of the Lord Adrian di Castello, bids me say, that lest the graver converse the Lord Adrian refers to should mar gentle and friendly sport, he ventures respectfully to suggest, that the tilt should preface the converse.  The sod before the tent is so soft and smooth, that even a fall could be attended with no danger to knight or steed.”

“By our Lady!” cried Adrian and Annibaldi in a breath, “but thy last words are discourteous; and” (proceeded Adrian, recovering himself) “since thy master will have it so, let him look to his horse’s girths.  I will not gainsay his fancy.”

Montreal, who had thus insisted upon the exhibition, partly, it may be, from the gay and ruffling bravado, common still amongst his brave countrymen; partly because he was curious of exhibiting before those who might soon be his open foes his singular and unrivalled address in arms, was yet more moved to it on learning the name of the leader of the Roman Company; for his vain and haughty spirit, however it had disguised resentment at the time, had by no means forgiven certain warm expressions of Adrian in the palace of Stephen Colonna, and in the unfortunate journey to Corneto.  While Adrian, halting at the entrance of the defile, aided by his squires, indignantly, but carefully, indued the rest of his armour, and saw, himself, to the girths, stirrup-leathers, and various buckles in the caparison of his noble charger, Montreal in great glee kissed his lady, who, though too soft to be angry, was deeply vexed, (and yet her vexation half forgotten in fear for his safety,) snatched up her scarf of blue, which he threw over his breastplate, and completed his array with the indifference of a man certain of victory.  He was destined, however, to one disadvantage, and