maiden, his rage changed into pity, and, amazed at the fair sight before him, he forgot his savage fury and licked her lily hands and kissed her weary feet. And Una, unable at first to cease from the fear of death, watched him, hardly believing her eyes, and then her heart began to melt in gratitude and her tears to flow, as she thought how this fierce lord of beasts pitied her, while her own lord, whom she loved as her very life, had forsaken her.

At length Una checked her tears, and, trying to put away her grief, arose, and, remounting her humble steed, set out again to seek her knight. But she was no longer a defenceless maiden, for with her went the lion—a strong guardian and faithful comrade—who, while she slept, kept both watch and ward, and, while she waked, waited on her will, taking direction from his lady's eye.

One day, as the damsel and the lion travelled thus through untrodden deserts, they unexpectedly came upon a beaten path. Following this path, which led under the brow of a steep mountain, Una observed a young girl walking slowly before them, bearing on her shoulder a water-pot. To her Una called, and asked if there were any dwelling-place near at hand. But the girl was rude, and did not reply; indeed, she seemed neither to hear nor understand, and when she saw the lion fear seized upon her, and, throwing down her pitcher, she fled. She dared not once look back, but ran as if her life depended on her speed, until she reached her home, where sat her mother old and blind. This was Corceca, a wicked woman and a hypocrite, who was wont daily to fast and pray and do painful penance. With trembling hands, the girl caught hold of the old woman, and exhibited such signs of terror that her mother rose in great alarm and hastened to close the door just as Una and her strange page arrived. Una prayed hard for admittance, but in vain; and at this the lion lifted his great paws, and, tearing down the wicket door, let his lady in. She found the two women almost dead with fright, crouching in the darkest corner of the hovel. Una tried to calm their fears by gentle words and looks, and after a time succeeded so far as to receive permission to rest there for the night. She was very weary and laid herself down on the floor—the lion at her feet—but she was too sad for the loss of the Red-cross knight to sleep, and so spent the long hours in sighs and groans and bitter tears.

At length morning approached, and with it came some one knocking at the door. He knocked loud and repeatedly, and was heard to curse and swear because the door was not more readily opened to him. Now, he who knocked was a wicked thief, who robbed churches and stole money from the poor men's box. At this very moment he had on his back a heavy load of stolen goods, for all that he got, whether by lawful means or unlawful, he brought to this old woman's house and bestowed upon her daughter Abessa, who was as wicked as herself. There he stood knocking at the door, but neither Abessa nor Corceca dared pass by the lion to open. At length, Kirk-rapine, for such was his name, became quite furious and would wait no longer, but burst open the door. Alas! for Kirk-rapine; the moment he entered, the lion rose from Una's feet, and, outstretching his lordly paws, laid the robber low. The wretched man was powerless to resist, nor did Abessa or Corceca dare to go to his assistance, and very soon Kirk-rapine lay quite dead—his body torn in pieces, and his blood flowing into the earth.

Now, when the broad daylight returned, Una arose, and with her the lion, and once more set out together to seek the knight. As soon as she was gone, the women came out from their dark corner, to see whether or not their worst fears were realized. When they saw that Kirk-rapine was indeed slain, they tore their hair, and beat their breasts, and, half mad with malice and revenge, rushed forth in pursuit of Una. As soon as they got near her, they began to shout and cry after her, calling her all sorts of bad names and praying that every kind of evil might befall her. At length, tired out with their own curses, they turned back, and on the way met one clad in armour as became a knight.

This was, however, no knight, but Archimago, the wicked enchanter, who, not content with having separated Una from her champion, sought to lead her into further distress. He stopped the old woman, and, describing Una, asked if she had seen any such lady. Thereupon Corceca's passion became renewed, and, crying and cursing, she declared she knew her but too well, and told him which way to take.

Before long, Archimago came where "Una travelled slow," her fierce guardian treading by her side. The sight of the lion alarmed the enchanter, and he turned aside, not daring to approach too near. Now Archimago had taken care to disguise himself as Una's own Red-cross knight. When, therefore, she recognized the well-known shield, she turned and rode towards him, and, as she approached more near, became assured in her own mind that this was indeed her lost lord. Hastening on, in much humility and with tears in her eyes, she exclaimed: "Ah! my long-lost lord, where have you been so long hidden from my sight?" The pretended knight replied "that his absence had been enforced in that a certain Archimago had sent him on an adventure, from which he had now returned successful, and ready henceforth to abide by her and defend her by land and sea." His words made Una very happy. In her new-found joy, she forgot the pains and toils she had encountered and journeyed on, discoursing happily of all that had befallen her.

They had not, however, travelled far when they saw an armed horseman riding towards them at full speed. Although his horse was covered with foam, the warrior kept spurring it from time to time, and looked as if he were breathing forth dread threats of vengeance on some unknown victim. On his shield his name Sansloy was written in red letters. Now, this Sansloy was a Saracen knight, and was brother of another knight named Sansfoy, but this brother had encountered the Red-cross knight shortly after he and Una left the Faerie Court, and had been slain by him. The moment, therefore, that Sansloy had seen the cross on Archimago's armour, he had determined to avenge his brother's death, and bore down thus fiercely on the enchanter and the lady. But Archimago had no mind to fight; he grew faint and fearful when he saw the warrior, and it was only when Una cheered him on that he ventured to couch his spear or put spurs to his horse. Sansloy showed no mercy, but came on with such force and fierceness that his spear went right through Archimago's shield and hurled his antagonist from his charger, so that he fell heavily to the ground, while the blood gushed from his wound. Immediately Sansloy leapt from his steed and hastened toward his prostrate foe exclaiming, "Lo! there the worthy meed of him who slew Sansfoy with bloody knife," and thereupon began to unlace Archimago's helmet, thinking to sever his head at one stroke. But Una saw his purport, and cried out, beseeching him to hold "that heavy hand," urging that surely Sansloy's revenge was enough when he saw his foe lie vanquished at his feet. To her piteous words the cruel Saracen paid no attention, but tore off the other's helmet, and would have given the fatal blow had he not perceived before him, instead of the Red-cross knight, the hoary head of Archimago the enchanter. He stayed his hand, and gazed on the old man in amazement, for he knew him well, and knew that, skilful as Archimago was in charms and magic, he was but little used to war.

"Why, Archimago," he exclaimed, "what do I see? What hard mishap is this?"

The enchanter answered him never a word, but lay in a trance, apparently dying, and Sansloy, who had no compassion in his soul, made no attempt to render him assistance.

He turned instead to Una, who, poor damsel, was in sore amazement to see that he whom she had believed her own true knight was the cruel enchanter who had caused all her distress. Her wonder soon changed into terror, for Sansloy