Princess, who now came to herself, was sitting, he kneeled down before
her, and received the velvet cap; which, blushing as scarlet as the
cap itself, the Princess Helen placed on his golden ringlets. Once more
their eyes met--their hearts thrilled. They had never spoken, but they
knew they loved each other for ever.

"Wilt thou take service with the Rowski of Donnerblitz?" said that
individual to the youth. "Thou shalt be captain of my archers in place
of yon blundering nincompoop, whom thou hast overcome."

"Yon blundering nincompoop is a skilful and gallant archer," replied
Otto, haughtily; "and I will NOT take service with the Rowski of
Donnerblitz."

"Wilt thou enter the household of the Prince of Cleves?" said the father
of Helen, laughing, and not a little amused at the haughtiness of the
humble archer.

"I would die for the Duke of Cleves and HIS FAMILY," said Otto, bowing
low. He laid a particular and a tender emphasis on the word family.
Helen knew what he meant. SHE was the family. In fact her mother was no
more, and her papa had no other offspring.

"What is thy name, good fellow," said the Prince, "that my steward may
enroll thee?"

"Sir," said Otto, again blushing, "I am OTTO THE ARCHER."

CHAPTER XI.

THE MARTYR OF LOVE.

The archers who had travelled in company with young Otto gave a handsome
dinner in compliment to the success of our hero; at which his friend
distinguished himself as usual in the eating and drinking department.
Squintoff, the Rowski bowman, declined to attend; so great was the envy
of the brute at the youthful hero's superiority. As for Otto himself, he
sat on the right hand of the chairman; but it was remarked that he could
not eat. Gentle reader of my page! thou knowest why full well. He was
too much in love to have any appetite; for though I myself when laboring
under that passion, never found my consumption of victuals diminish, yet
remember our Otto was a hero of romance, and they NEVER are hungry when
they're in love.

The next day, the young gentleman proceeded to enroll himself in the
corps of Archers of the Prince of Cleves, and with him came his attached
squire, who vowed he never would leave him. As Otto threw aside his own
elegant dress, and donned the livery of the House of Cleves, the noble
Childe sighed not a little. 'Twas a splendid uniform 'tis true, but
still it WAS a livery, and one of his proud spirit ill bears another's
cognizances. "They are the