and ashes," answered the arch-priest.

"A sign that decomposition has already taken place," responded the
former. "That is no proof that the princess Bertha was not buried in the
coffin."

But the crowd laughed him to scorn, saying that it was scarce a
fortnight ago since the princess was missed, and that it was impossible
the body should have decomposed so rapidly.

The arch-priest then gave his word of honour to all present that he had
found nothing in the coffin but cinders from the grate.

One of the crowd below picked up a cinder which had fallen from the
coffin, and cried out, "The holy father speaks the truth, for the coffin
contained nothing but cinders of burnt wood."

Then the champion for the Princess Clothilde, fearing that all were
siding with Bertha, called out in a loud voice, "Long live the Princess
Clothilde!"

But the crowd hissed, and showed signs of disapprobation.

Then the other champion for her twin sister called out, "Long live the
Princess Carlotta!" but he, too, was hissed.

Then spake out Hans.

"Whoever objects to the Princess Bertha being queen, let him do battle
with me."

Hans then threw down his gauntlet, which was immediately picked up by
Clothilde's champion.

Our little princess took refuge once more in her husband's helmet, and
whispered in his ear to keep his lance steadily directed towards the
breast of his foe, and then, touching him with the wand again, she
rendered him proof against all mortal harm.

The adversaries charged together, and so violent was the shock with
which Hans came upon his foe, and so accurately did he direct his lance,
that the deadly weapon pierced through the massive breast plate of his
enemy and came out at his back.

Hans, whose natural strength was terrific, and which was increased
ten-fold by the magical touch he had received from his spouse, whirled
the dead champion at the point of his lance two or three times round his
head, and then flung the body to an incredible distance over the heads
of the crowd.

The champion of the Princess Carlotta, seeing the fate of the other
champion, would fain have drawn back, for he thought Hans could be none
other than the foul fiend himself.

But the crowd cried out to him, "Thou, too, votest for the Princess
Carlotta."

"Ay," he was constrained to say.

"Do battle for her, then," said Hans.

Carlotta's champion sullenly laid his lance in rest, and aimed at a
portion of Hans' vast body which s