The champions thus encountering each other with the utmost fury,
and with alternate success, the tide of battle seemed to flow now
toward the southern, now toward the northern extremity of the
lists, as the one or the other party prevailed. Meantime the
clang of the blows, and the shouts of the combatants, mixed
fearfully with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned the groans
of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless beneath the feet
of the horses. The splendid armour of the combatants was now
defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the
sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the crests,
drifted upon the breeze like snow-flakes. All that was beautiful
and graceful in the martial array had disappeared, and what was
now visible was only calculated to awake terror or compassion.

Yet such is the force of habit, that not only the vulgar
spectators, who are naturally attracted by sights of horror, but
even the ladies of distinction who crowded the galleries, saw the
conflict with a thrilling interest certainly, but without a wish
to withdraw their eyes from a sight so terrible. Here and there,
indeed, a fair cheek might turn pale, or a faint scream might be
heard, as a lover, a brother, or a husband, was struck from his
horse. But, in general, the ladies around encouraged the
combatants, not only by clapping their hands and waving their
veils and kerchiefs, but even by exclaiming, "Brave lance! Good
sword!" when any successful thrust or blow took place under their
observation.

Such being the interest taken by the fair sex in this bloody
game, that of the men is the more easily understood. It showed
itself in loud acclamations upon every change of fortune, while