ge upbringing never spoiled her in the least.

Late one October evening, when the fierce gusts of wind from the sea
shook the old house to its very foundation and set the ragged tapestries
swaying on the walls, Isabella's father died, leaving her only the
ruinous house, a handful of copper pence, and a single golden florin.
The sum of money was enough to keep body and soul together for a few
weeks, but what was Isabella to do when the little pittance was gone?
Her father had once counseled her to go to the King and ask for his
protection; but the King's castle was hundreds of miles distant, and
Isabella shrank from begging or the highway.

At last the brave girl resolved to make her own way in the world. Taking
the golden florin with her, she went to a neighboring town, and
purchased a suit of clothes such as pages and squires wear who are in
the service of noblemen. She then caused her black hair to be cut short,
boy-fashion, put on the boy's clothes she had purchased, and went into
the market-place to see if she could not find a situation in the service
of some great family.

Now, it was the custom in those days for masters and servants to meet by
a fountain in the market-place, the masters who were in need of servants
standing on one side of the fountain, the servants who were in search of
masters on the other.

When Isabella came into the market-place, there was no one standing on
the masters' side of the fountain, but on the other side, ready for the
first master who should appear, was a little group of noisy and impudent
squires and pages. Isabella, or, as she now called herself, Florian,
strode boldly over and joined this group, her heart beating high with
the thrill of the great adventure.

Suddenly a black knight, mounted on a black horse and leading another
horse by the bridle, clattered over the cobble-stones of the square, and
taking his place by the fountain, called on the pages to come to him. In
spite of the horseman's summons, however, the pages paid no attention to
him at all. Curious to know the reason of this disdain, Florian
questioned a fellow page, and was told that the knight was no other than
the Enchanter of the Black Rock, and that no page or squire would take
service with him because his castle was haunted by goblins, ghosts, and
all manner of terrifying spirits.

Now, Florian was no coward, and, as the saying is, beggars cannot be
choosers. So, much to the astonishment of the pages, Flo