held a council, composed of the companions of his pleasure, and gotten their approval of his design, he returned and announced it to the princess. Claremond now saw no other means of retarding the marriage, which she dreaded, than to feign that joy had turned her brain. She committed acts of the greatest folly and extravagance, and at length became so violent, that the king found it necessary to take measures for her cure, and he put her under the care of ten of the most sensible and strongest women he could find.

The court of Spain was meantime in the utmost affliction. When the king and queen arrived with Cleomades at the summer palace, they sought in vain for the Princess Claremond. Cleomades picked up one of her gloves, but no other trace of her or of the enchanted horse could be discovered. His parents brought him back to the palace in a condition which caused apprehensions to be entertained for his life.

In the course of a few days came ambassadors from the court of Tuscany, and the royal family were filled with shame at being obliged to declare that they knew not what was become of the princess. The chief of the embassy, however, who was a prudent sensible man, saw that reproaches would be cruel, and he set about giving consolation to the prince. At the same time he could not refrain from upbraiding him for thus giving himself up to despair, instead of setting out and

searching the whole world for a princess so deserving of regret.

Cleomades felt his strength and courage revive at this reproof; and as soon as he was able to bear the weight of his arms, he mounted a gallant steed, and directed his course towards the kingdom of Tuscany, in the hope of there hearing some tidings of his adored princess. He reached the lofty mountains which surround it, passed through them, and it was far in the night when he came to a castle which stood alone, where he resolved to demand hospitality. As the drawbridge was raised, he called aloud, and a man answered him from the battlements, and told him that it was the custom of this castle, that any knight who was entertained in it should next morning leave his arms and his horse, unless he was willing singly to engage two valiant knights in arms. "The custom is a discourteous one," replied Cleomades. "It was established," said the other, "in consequence of a traitor who was entertained here having assassinated the lord of the castle during the night. When his two nephews found him next morning weltering in his blood, he made them swear, ere he expired, to maintain this custom."

Cleomades was not to be daunted by the proposed terms of hospitality: the drawbridge was lowered, he entered, was well received and entertained, and then retired to repose. In the morn

ing, the knight who had done the honours of the house required him to surrender his arms, or to fight. The prince forthwith mounted his horse, grasped his lance, and rode forth to where two armed knights awaited his arrival. Immediately the two charge him together; their lances are shivered against his shield, but he remains firm in his seat, while one of the knights is unhorsed, and his shoulder put out of joint by the stroke of the prince's lance. The other then drew his sword, and a long and dubious conflict ensued. At length Cleomades proves victorious, and disarms his opponent, whom he now finds to be a most valiant knight whom he had met when on his travels. They both go to the aid of the wounded knight, who, on being informed of the name of his illustrious adversary, assured him that it was against his will he had aided to maintain that iniquitous custom; adding, that he only regretted his wound because it would prevent his undertaking the defence of a damsel wrongfully accused of treason.

They convey the wounded knight to the castle, and then Cleomades learns that the damsel is one of the princess Claremond's maids of honour. For on the arrival of Liopatris at the court of Tuscany, three knights of his train had forthwith accused the three maids of honour of being accomplices in the carrying off of their mistress.

The two knights confess to Cleomades that they are enamoured of two of the accused damsels, and the wounded man again bemoans his inability to

defend the life and innocence of his mistress. "Ah, sir," replied Cleomades, "cease to afflict yourself; no one is more bound than I to defend the fair Lyriade. I will depart with your comrade, and trust speedily to restore her to you."

Cleomades having selected a suit of plain armour, that he might not be known, set out with his comrade for the court of King Cornuant. On their arrival, he halted in the suburbs, while the knight of the castle went forward to announce that two knights were come to undertake the defence of the accused damsels against the three accusers. Next morning the combatants appear in the lists; the word of onset is given, the knights dart forth and encounter. The strongest of the champions of Liopatris singly engages Cleomades, whose lance penetrates his shield and corselet, and enters his heart. He then flies to the aid of his companion, whom the other two had unhorsed. Ere long they cry for mercy, and deliver up their swords. According to the law of combat, the accused damsels are now pronounced innocent, and delivered to their defenders; and mounting their palfreys, they set forth with them, and accompanied by their relatives, for the castle whence the victor-knights had come.

When Cleomades disarmed himself, the damsels, to their great surprise and joy, recognised in him the lover of the Princess Claremond. Their gratitude to him knew no bounds; but their inquiries after their mistress awoke his grief, and they

mingled their tears with his. All now began to consult on the means of getting tidings of her; but none of the proposed plans seemed to offer a likelihood of success. At length an old knight said he knew at Salerno an astronomer "who saw the most secret things quite clear." Cleomades instantly resolved to go and consult this sage; and accordingly, next morning, after taking leave of the lovers, and making them promise to come to Spain to him if he should find his Claremond, he set out for Salerno.

On his arrival in that city, Cleomades put up at an inn in the suburbs. His first care was to inquire of the host after the sage of whom he was come in quest. "Alas! sir,” said the host, “it is now a year since we lost him; and never did we regret him more; for were he now alive, he might be of the most essential service to our prince, by restoring to reason the most beautiful creature that ever lived; of whom, though she is of low origin, he is so enamoured, that he is resolved to marry her."

Cleomades was filled with melancholy at hearing of the death of the sage; and the host, to divert him, related the tale of the hunchback, and how the king had met with that lovely creature, and how her head had turned with joy at the idea of being married to a king. He ended his narrative by what he deemed the least interesting part of it, namely, by telling of the wooden horse which had been found near where the rascally