waters, and immediately his strength gave way, his blood ran slow, and a chill struck at the very root of his courage.

While lying in this feeble condition, a dreadful sound was heard, that seemed to shake the earth and cause the trees to tremble. Starting up, the knight began to collect his weapons and to don his armour in great haste. But before he could do so, before he had even got his shield in his hand, a hideous giant, more than three times the height of any mortal man, and so huge that the earth groaned under his weight, came stalking into sight. In his hand the giant Orgoglio bore a gnarled oak torn up from the forest, which he used both as staff and weapon, and when he saw the knight he raised this formidable cudgel and bore down upon him in a fury.

Alas! the Red-cross Knight was little able to sustain the combat. Unarmed, disgraced and inwardly dismayed by the power of the fatal waters, he could hardly wield his single blade.

The giant struck with a force that might overthrow a tower of stone, much more a defenceless man: but the knight watched carefully where the blows fell, and skilfully leapt out of their way, and thus for a time evaded them. But not for long: so furious were the blows that the wind they raised presently overthrew him and flung him stunned upon the ground.

The giant was not slow to see his advantage. He uplifted his powerful arm, and with one stroke would have made an end of his opponent had not Duessa interfered. She besought Orgoglio to spare the life of the Red-cross Knight and take only his liberty: and to this the giant consented on condition that Duessa would become his lady-love. He then raised the knight in his cruel arms and carried him in haste to his strong castle, where he threw him into its darkest dungeon.

Such was the tale the dwarf had to tell.

Una heard him patiently to the end, and strove to master her sorrow, but it only grew stronger the more she contended against it. At length, when the first passion of grief had worn itself out, she rose, and, attended by the dwarf, resolved to find her knight, alive or dead. But ever as she wandered through low dales, and over high hills and among thick woods, her grief broke forth from time to time as if from a wound that had not healed.

After a time Una and her dwarf chanced to meet a very noble-looking knight attended by a single follower.

These were none other than the great and good Prince Arthur and Timias his much loved squire. The armour of the Prince glittered from afar, and on his breast he wore a bauldric beset with precious stones, in the midst of which shone one shaped like a lady's head, which was of wondrous worth and was possessed of magic powers. By the bauldric hung the Prince's sword: its sheath was of ivory curiously wrought. The hilt and the buckle were of burnished gold and the handle was of mother-of-pearl. His helmet was also of gold and had a dragon for its crest: the wings of the dragon spread wide apart, while its head couched close upon the Prince's beaver, and its tail stretched low upon his back, and on the top of all was a tuft of divers coloured hair sprinkled with gold and pearls, and quivering in the sunlight. His shield was closely covered and might not be seen of mortal eyes, for it was made of pure and perfect diamond:—one massive piece cut solid from the rock, and no spear could pierce it nor any sword divide its substance.

And never did Prince Arthur reveal its brightness to any single foe, but if he wished to dismay huge monsters or daunt whole armies, then would he discover its exceeding brightness, and so discomfit them. No magic art or enchanter's word had power over it, and all things that were not what they seemed, faded away before its brightness. By it the Prince could blind the proud, turn men into stones, stones to dust, and dust to nought.

This wondrous shield, with the rich sword and armour, had been made for Prince Arthur by Merlin, the great and good magician.

Timias, the Prince's squire, was a gentle youth. He bore a spear of ebony, with a square pike head, which had been three times heated in the furnace; and he rode a proud and stubborn steed that chafed under its rider, but was kept well in hand.

As Prince Arthur approached the lady, he spoke courteously to her, and when he perceived that his words drew forth slow and unwilling answers, he guessed that a secret sorrow rent her heart. He then tried to draw from her the cause of her distress, until, moved by his kind words, Una spoke.

"What happiness," she asked, "could reach a heart plunged in a sea of sorrow, and heaped with huge misfortunes?" As soon as she thought of her distress a cold chill crept over her, and she felt as if stung by an iron arrow. Griefs which could not be cured were best not spoken of,—she could only weep and wail.

Then said the Prince—"Ah! dear lady, well do I believe that your grief is a heavy one, for only to hear you speak fills my soul with sadness; but let me entreat of you to unfold it, for counsel eases the worst sorrow."

"But great grief," said Una, "will not bear to be spoken of; it is easy to think about, but hard to utter."

"True," replied the Prince, "but he that wills not, can do nothing."

"Ah!" pleaded Una, "but grief that is spoken, and finds no relief, grows still heavier, and leads to despair."

"Not so," said the Prince, "when there is trust and faith."

And thus was Una at length persuaded to disclose her secret sorrow.

She told the Prince the story you already know: how her dear parents were imprisoned by a huge dragon, and how the Red-cross Knight, who was to have rescued them, had been betrayed into the hands of a cruel giant, in whose dungeons he lay, disarmed and helpless.

Before she had quite ended her tale, the poor damsel grew faint from grief and dread, but the Prince comforted her with cheering words.

"Truly," he said, "you have great cause of sorrow; but take comfort and courage, for until I have rescued your captive knight be assured that I will not leave you."

So the whole party went on together, until they reached a great castle. Here, said the dwarf, lay his luckless lord, and here the Prince must try his prowess. Whereupon the Prince alighted from his steed, and bidding Una remain where she was and watch the issue of the fight, took Timias, his squire, and strode up to the castle wall. He found the gates fast closed, and no one to keep guard or answer to his call. At this, the squire blew a small bugle, which hung by his side, adorned with twisted gold and gay tassels, and writ all over with the wonders of its virtue.

None ever heard its shrill call who did not tremble before it. There was no gate however strong, or lock however firm, that did not burst open at its summons. And now, as the squire blew the magic horn, the grim castle quaked, every door flew open, and the giant himself rushed forth with an angry stare on his cruel countenance, eager to learn who or what this might be that had dared his dreaded power. After him appeared Duessa, riding a many-headed monster, with a fiery, flaming tongue in every one of its many heads.

At once the Prince began a furious attack on the monster. Thereupon the giant buckled to the fight, and lifting up his dreadful club, all armed with ragged knobs and gnarled knots, thought to have slain the Prince at a single blow. But he, wise and wary, leapt swiftly aside, and the great weapon fell so heavily, that it sank three yards deep into the ground, making the earth tremble. Now, Orgoglio could not easily uplift his club, and as he strove to drag it from the deep cleft, the Prince smote off his left arm, which fell to the ground, a senseless block, while streams of blood gushed from the wound. Dismayed by the pain, Orgoglio roared aloud, and Duessa hastened to draw up her many-headed charger to his aid. But the squire soon forced the horrid beast to retreat, and at this Duessa in her pride rebelled and urged the monster afresh; but in vain, for Timias dealt mighty strokes,