of
England, there was born in the ancient Spanish city of Burgos a baby, to
whom was given the name of Rodrigo Diaz de Bivar. He came of noble blood
on both sides of the House, and his forefathers had borne some of the
highest offices of the land, and from his childhood the boy had been
taught that it was his duty never to fall one whit behind them in
courage and in honour. As he grew older, he burned more and more for a
chance to show the metal of which he was made, and longed to join the
companies of knights that were ever going forth to fight the Arabs, who
for nearly four hundred years had reigned over the fairest provinces of
Spain. But to all his prayers, his father, Don Diego Lainez, turned a
deaf ear.

* * * * *

'Wait, wait, my son!' he would say; 'the little shoot must first grow
into a tree. Go now and practise that sword-thrust in which you failed
yesterday.'

It was when he was sixteen that the longed-for opportunity came.

Don Diego Lainez, now old and weak, had gone to do his homage to King
Fernando, who had managed to unite the small kingdoms of Northern Spain
under his banner. Some dispute arose between him and the powerful count,
Don Lozano Gomez, probably as to which had the right to pass first into
the presence of their king, and in the presence of the whole court Don
Lozano spoke words of deadly insult to the old man, and even gave him a
buffet on the cheek. The courtiers all cried shame, and Don Diego's hand
clutched the pommel of his sword, but his rage had deprived him of the
little strength that remained, and he was powerless to draw it. At this
the count laughed scornfully, and, bowing mockingly to the king, who
held it best that men should settle their own quarrels, rode away to his
castle. Then, without another word, Don Diego turned and mounted his
horse and set out homewards.

A broken man and older by ten years was he when he entered his hall, but
many days passed before any could guess what had wrought this change in
him. All night he lay awake staring into the darkness, and when food was
brought him it was carried away untasted, and his wife whispered to her
ladies, 'If we rouse him not he will surely die! Would that I knew what
has stricken him like this?'

Fifteen days went by in this manner, and none thought to see him leave
his bed again, when one morning he strode into the hall with some of the
fire of his former years, and called his sons to h