a youth acquainted with war, and, I trust, open of heart, though condemned by another to silence about myself.'
'Tell me, I pray thee.'
'I can tell nothing.'
'Wilt not?' said the man, getting angry. 'Perhaps thou wilt tell me, didst thou ever learn at the school of Scathach in Scotland?… Thou art silent… Then thou shalt answer by deeds. Wilt thou fight?'
'I must.'
'Thou shalt,' said the man, his face now utterly changed into a grisly face such as might make a man wonder why warriors do not eat their enemies. It did not frighten Conla; neither did it make him quick to defend himself. He had not forgotten the strange love which he felt for this chieftain at the first sight, and he said:—
'I am ready. Nevertheless, O chieftain, if I could refuse any man battle it would be thee.'
His opponent was restless to begin, and opened the fighting. At first they were so nearly matched that an onlooker might have thought each was only striking blows to give the other the glory of showing his skill in avoiding them. The two fighters were like twin trees in a storm; they rock together, and however their great arms may plunge they never wound one another, though the little twigs may chafe and a few leaves fall to the ground. Conla first drew blood, and was astonished. He was sorry for this, but sorrier when he saw the result. His enemy's head was now lit up by a strange light that touched nothing else, and he knew that this was the hero light of the stories, that this man was certainly his father. He began to think rapidly of what he should do, what he should say, how to stop the fight; and he tried at the same time to use all his defensive cunning with the sword, for he could not bear to die just now, But
