Secret and inclosed, with blooming shrubs planted around, with not a sound to be heard of the merry company, nor of the animated streets of the city, with the full moon shining overhead and brightening the solemn circle with its clear brilliancy—such was the spot. The two captains unsheathed their gleaming swords and stood opposite each other, ready for the encounter. But before they began the combat a nobler feeling drew them to each other’s arms; they lowered their weapons and embraced in the most fraternal manner. They then tore themselves away and the fearful contest began.

They were now no longer brothers-in-arms, no longer friends, no longer brothers-in-law, who directed their sharp steels against each other. With the most resolute boldness, but with the coolest collectedness, each fell upon his adversary, guarding his own breast at the same time. After a few hot and dangerous passes the combatants were obliged to rest, and during the pause they regarded each other with increased love, each rejoicing to find his comrade so valiant and so honorable. And then the fatal strife began anew.

With his left hand Heimbert dashed aside Fadrique’s sword, which had been aimed at him with a thrust in tierce, sideward, but the keen edge had penetrated his leathern glove, and the red blood gushed out. “Hold!” cried Fadrique, and they searched for the wound, but soon perceiving that it was of no importance, and binding it up, they both began the combat with undiminished vigor.

It was not long before Heimbert’s blade pierced Fadrique’s right shoulder, and the German, feeling that he had wounded his opponent, now on his side called out to halt. At first Fadrique would not acknowledge to the injury, but soon the blood began to trickle down, and he was obliged to accept his friend’s careful assistance. Still this wound also appeared insignificant, the noble Spaniard still felt power to wield his sword, and again the deadly contest was renewed with knightly ardor.

Presently the garden-gate clanked, and the sound of a horse’s step was heard advancing through the shrubbery. Both combatants paused in their stern work and turned toward the unwelcome disturber. The next moment through the slender pines a horseman was visible whose dress and bearing proclaimed him a warrior and Fadrique, as master of the house, at once addressed him. “Senor,” said he, “why you come here, intruding into a strange garden, we will inquire at another time. For the present I will only request you to leave us free from further interruption by immediately retiring, and to favor me with your name.” “Retire I will not,” replied the stranger, “but my name I will gladly tell you. I am the Duke of Alba.” And as he spoke, by a movement of his charger a bright moonbeam fell upon his pale thin face, the dwelling-place of all that was grand and worthy and terrible. The two captains bowed low and dropped their weapons.

“I ought to know you,” continued Alba, looking at them with his sparkling eyes. “Yes, truly, I know you well, you are the two young heroes at the battle of Tunis. God be praised that two such brave warriors, whom I had given up for lost, are still alive; but tell me, what is this affair of honor that has turned your good swords against each other? For I hope you will not hesitate to declare to me the cause of your knightly contest.”

They complied with the great duke’s behest. Both the noble youths related the whole circumstances, from the evening previous to their embarkation up to the present moment, while Alba remained between them, in silent thought, almost motionless, like some equestrian statue.

CHAPTER XIX

The Captains had already long finished their story, and the duke still remained silent and motionless, in deep reflection. At last he began to speak, and addressed them as follows:

“May God and his holy word help me, my young knights, when I say that I consider, after my best and most conscientious belief, that this affair of yours is now honorably at an end. Twice have you met each other in contest on account of those irritating words which escaped the lips of Don Fadrique Mendez and if indeed the slight wounds you have hitherto received are not sufficient compensation for the angry expression, there is still your common fight before Tunis, and the rescue in the desert afforded by Sir Heimbert of Waldhausen to Don Fadrique Mendez, after he had gained his bride for him. From all this, I consider that the Knight of Waldhausen is entitled to pardon any offence of an adversary to whom he has shown himself so well inclined. Old Roman history tells us of two captains of the great Julius Caesar who settled a dispute and cemented a hearty friendship with each other when engaged in the same bold fight, delivering each other in the midst of a Gallic army. I affirm, however, that you two have done more for each other: and therefore I declare your affair of honor to be settled, and at an end. Sheathe your swords, and embrace each other in my presence.”

Obedient to the command of their general, the young knights for the present sheathed their weapons; but anxious lest the slightest possible shadow should fall on their honor they yet delayed the reconciling embrace.

The great Alba looked at them with somewhat of an indignant air, and said, “Do you then suppose, young knights, that I could wish to save the lives of two heroes at the expense of their honor? I would rather at once have struck you dead, both of you at once. But I see plainly that with such obstinate minds one must have recourse to other measures.”

And, dismounting from his horse, he fastened it to a tree, and then stepped forward between the two captains with a drawn sword in his right hand, crying out, “Whoever will deny in any wise that the quarrel between Sir Heimbert of Waldhausen and Don Fadrique Mendez is honorably and gloriously settled must settle the matter at the peril of his life with the Duke of Alba; and should the present knights have any objection to raise to this, let them declare it. I stand here as champion for my own conviction.”

The youths bowed submissively before the great umpire, and fell into each other’s arms. The duke, however, embraced them both with hearty affection, which appeared all the more charming and refreshing as it rarely burst forth from this stern character. Then he led the reconciled friends back to their betrothed, and when these, after the first joyful surprise was over at the presence of the honored general, started back at seeing drops of blood on the garments of the youths, the duke said, smiling, “Oh, ye brides elect of soldiers, you must not shrink from such jewels of honor. Your lovers could bring you no fairer wedding gift.”

The great Alba was not not be deprived of the pleasure of enacting the office of father to the two happy brides, and the festival of their union was fixed for the following day. From that time forth they lived in undisturbed and joyful concord; and though the Knight Heimbert was recalled soon afterward with his lovely consort to the bosom of his German Fatherland, he and Fadrique kept up the link between them by letters and messages; and even in after times the descendants of the lord of Waldhausen boasted of their connection with the noble house of Mendez, while the latter have ever sacredly preserved the tradition of the brave and magnanimous Heimbert.