The lady, white with terror, flew to the Professor, and reposed her head upon his bosom.
Professor Baffin was embarrassed. He had no idea what he had better do or say. He could not repulse the poor creature; and as the situation, upon the whole, was not positively disagreeable, he permitted her to remain, sobbing upon his bosom, while he watched the fight and dried her eyes, in a fatherly way, with his handkerchief.
The two Knights came together with a terrible shock which made the sparks fly; but neither was unhorsed or injured, and the lances of both glanced aside. They turned, and made at each other again. This time the lance of each pierced the armor of the other, so that neither lance could be withdrawn. It really seemed as if the two knights would have to undress and to walk off, leaving their armor pinioned together. A moment later the strange Knight fell to the ground, and lay perfectly still. The Professor went up to him and taking his lance from his hand, so that Sir Bleoberis could move, unlaced the Knight’s helmet.
He was dead.
The Professor was inexpressibly shocked. “Why,” he exclaimed, “the man is dead! Most horrible, isn’t it?”
“Oh, no,” said Sir Bleoberis, coolly. “I tried to kill him.”
“You wanted to murder him?”
“Oh, yes, of course.”
“I am so glad you did,” exclaimed the damsel with a sweet smile. “How can I thank you? And you, my dear preserver.”
“Bless my soul, madam,” exclaimed the Professor, “I had nothing to do with it. I consider it perfectly horrible.”