dred Saracen sword-blades than that golden goblet which the strange drinking-companion pressed upon him so pertinaciously with his fleshless bony hand. Notwithstanding his confusion, however, he saw that there was no escaping, as his delay began to put in motion the other guests, who now commenced a slow and regular march towards his bed. To a strong mind, in such moments, the transition from terrified hesitation to the most dauntless heroism is as easy and as rapid as the change from idle boasting to pusillanimous despondency in the heart of a coward. Sir Baldwin instantly recollected himself, leaped up lightly from his bed, seized his sword in his right hand, and with his left deposited the goblet with the infernal punch upon the table. “Whoever you may be,” he then exclaimed in a firm and powerful tone of voice, “how dare you challenge an honourable knight to partake of your cheer, whilst you thus oppress weak maidens, like midnight murderers and robbers? If you are human, then meet me fairly, and let us fight it out, firmly and gallantly; if you are not, then begone from this castle, and do not disturb with your presence the dwellings of human beings.”
A dismal silence of some seconds which followed this speech was suddenly broken by a ghastly laugh from the black knight, which shook the very walls of the castle. “This maiden,” cried he, “is mine; she gave herself to me; she won me by a crime—a midnight crime—for which each midnight she must suffer. She is my bride; and my bride she must remain, and nightly be decked in these burning ornaments, till the jewels shall return to
