ance from the archers, was so small, that
it required a very clever man indeed to see, much more to hit it; and as
Squintoff was selecting his arrow for the final trial, the Rowski flung
a purse of gold towards his archer, saying--"Squintoff, an ye win the
prize, the purse is thine." "I may as well pocket it at once, your
honor," said the bowman with a sneer at Otto. "This young chick, who has
been lucky as yet, will hardly hit such a mark as that." And, taking his
aim, Squintoff discharged his arrow right into the very middle of the
bull's-eye.

"Can you mend that, young springald?" said he, as a shout rent the air
at his success, as Helen turned pale to think that the champion of her
secret heart was likely to be overcome, and as Squintoff, pocketing the
Rowski's money, turned to the noble boy of Godesberg.

"Has anybody got a pea?" asked the lad. Everybody laughed at his droll
request; and an old woman, who was selling porridge in the crowd, handed
him the vegetable which he demanded. It was a dry and yellow pea. Otto,
stepping up to the target, caused Squintoff to extract his arrow from
the bull's-eye, and placed in the orifice made by the steel point of the
shaft, the pea which he had received from the old woman. He then came
back to his place. As he prepared to shoot, Helen was so overcome by
emotion, that 'twas thought she would have fainted. Never, never had she
seen a being so beautiful as the young hero now before her.

He looked almost divine. He flung back his long clusters of hair from
his bright eyes and tall forehead; the blush of health mantled on his
cheek, from which the barber's weapon had never shorn the down. He took
his bow, and one of his most elegant arrows, and poising himself lightly
on his right leg, he flung himself forward, raising his left leg on a
level with his ear. He looked like Apollo, as he stood balancing himself
there. He discharged his dart from the thrumming bowstring: it clove the
blue air--whiz!

"HE HAS SPLIT THE PEA!" said the Princess, and fainted. The Rowski, with
one eye, hurled an indignant look at the boy, while with the other he
levelled (if aught so crooked can be said to level anything) a furious
glance at his archer.

The archer swore a sulky oath. "He is the better man!" said he. "I
suppose, young chap, you take the gold chain?"

"The gold chain?" said Otto. "Prefer a gold chain to a cap worked
by that august hand? Never!" And advancing to the balcony where the