lous helmet stroke. The stroke loosened Calli's helmet
by breaking a throat-strap, but neither he nor his friends seemed to
notice the mishap, and the third course was begun without remedying it.
When the champions were within ten yards of each other, a report like
the discharge of an arquebuse was heard, coming apparently from beneath
the pavilion. I could not say whence the report came--I was too intent
upon the scene in the lists to be thoroughly conscious of happenings
elsewhere--but come it did from somewhere, and Max's fine charger
plunged forward on the lists, dead. Max fell over his horse's head and
lay half-stunned upon the ground.

Above the din rose a cry, a frantic scream, that fairly pierced my
heart. Well I knew the voice that uttered it. The people in the pavilion
rose to their feet, and cries of "Treachery! treachery!" came from all
directions. Calli was evidently expecting the shot, for just before it
came he reined in his horse, and when Max fell the Italian instantly
brought his charger to a standstill and began to dismount with all the
speed his heavy armor would permit. When safely down, he unclasped his
battle-axe from the chain that held it to his girdle and started toward
Max, who was lying prone upon the ground. Cries of "Shame! shame!" came
from the pavilion, but no one, not even the duke, dared to interfere; it
was Calli's right to kill Max if he could.

I had covered my eyes with my hand, thinking that surely the boy's hour
had come. I removed my hand when I heard the scream, and I have thanked
God ever since for prompting me to do that little act, for I saw the
most beautiful sight that my eyes have ever beheld. Calli had reached
his prostrate foe and was standing over him with battle-axe uplifted to
deal the blow of death. At that same moment Yolanda sprang from the
duke's side, cleared the low railing in front of the ducal box, and
jumped to the false lists six or eight feet below. Her gown of scarlet
and gold shone with dazzling radiance in the sunlight.

Calli was facing the pavilion, and Yolanda's leap probably attracted his
attention. However that may have been--perhaps it was because of Calli's
haste, perhaps it was the will of God--the blow fell short, and Calli's
battle-axe, glancing from Max's helmet, buried itself in the hard
ground. While Calli was struggling to release his axe, Yolanda cleared
the low barrier of the true lists, sped across the intervening space
like a flash of