e, and at once began the
combat, the young fellow took especial care to use his sword as gently
as possible. Being wounded, the Knight fell upon one knee, according
to the direction. The Doctor now entered, restored the Knight by
giving him a draught from the bottle which he carried, and the
fight was again resumed, the Turk sinking by degrees until quite
overcome--dying as hard in this venerable drama as he is said to do at
the present day.

This gradual sinking to the earth was, in fact, one reason why
Eustacia had thought that the part of the Turkish Knight, though not
the shortest, would suit her best. A direct fall from upright to
horizontal, which was the end of the other fighting characters, was
not an elegant or decorous part for a girl. But it was easy to die
like a Turk, by a dogged decline.

Eustacia was now among the number of the slain, though not on the
floor, for she had managed to sink into a sloping position against the
clock-case, so that her head was well elevated. The play proceeded
between Saint George, the Saracen, the Doctor, and Father Christmas;
and Eustacia, having no more to do, for the first time found leisure
to observe the scene round, and to search for the form that had drawn
her hither.

VI

The Two Stand Face to Face

The room had been arranged with a view to the dancing, the large
oak table having been moved back till it stood as a breastwork to
the fireplace. At each end, behind, and in the chimney-corner were
grouped the guests, many of them being warm-faced and panting, among
whom Eustacia cursorily recognized some well-to-do persons from
beyond the heath. Thomasin, as she had expected, was not visible, and
Eustacia recollected that a light had shone from an upper window when
they were outside--the window, probably, of Thomasin's room. A nose,
chin, hands, knees, and toes projected from the seat within the
chimney opening, which members she found to unite in the person of
Grandfer Cantle, Mrs. Yeobright's occasional assistant in the garden,
and therefore one of the invited. The smoke went up from an Etna of
peat in front of him, played round the notches of the chimney-crook,
struck against the saltbox, and got lost among the flitches.

Another part of the room soon riveted her gaze. At the other side of
the chimney stood the settle, which is the necessary supplement to a
fire so open that nothing less than a strong breeze will carry up the
smoke. It is, to the hearth