Reflecting thus, he let his lance drop down, and as the yeoman's right arm pressed him most with energy he clutched it in his grasp; so vigorous the attack, so nerved his strength, he forced the hand to loose the gleaming knife: then, when he saw the arm was paralysed and drooped inertly down, he fixed with both hands on the yeoman's left, which he then twisted till he caused such pain, its owner reeled in groaning to the ground. Dismounting from his horse, Jaufry drew near his foe, who lay quite motionless crying for mercy in his agony.
“By Heaven! which I adore,” quoth Jaufry, “ne'er will I pity show to wretch like thee.”
And at the words he cut off both his feet.
“I prithee, now,” he said, “run not, nor leap, nor battle more with knights. Take to another trade; for far too long hath this one been thy choice.”
He gathered up his lance and shield, and, mounting on his horse, prepared him quietly to go his way.
'Twas on a Tuesday, early in the morn, that Jaufry held this speech; but as he turned him from his footless foe,—
“I have not yet inquired,” he observed, “if thou perchance hold'st knights within thy walls?”
“My lord,” the man replied, “full five-and-twenty are there held in chains beyond the mount where stands my dwelling-place.”
“O, O!” said Jaufry, “these I must set free; it likes me not that thou shouldst guard such prize.” Without delay he hied him to the house, whose massive portals were thrown open wide; and to a dwarf who stood before the gates he cried:
“Where lie the imprison'd knights?”