unlooked-for invasion of their repose.  Deep, deadly, and abominable curses, rang through the hall.  Livid and ghastly by turns, the knight’s features wore that ludicrous expression of rage and astonishment more easy to conceive than to portray.  Volleys of oaths and inarticulate sounds burst out from his wrath, almost too big for utterance.  When reinstated in that posture which is the distinctive characteristic of man, he did not attempt to administer his vindictive retribution by proxy.  Laying hold on a tough cudgel, he gave it one ominous swing, describing an arc of sufficient magnitude to have laid an army prostrate.  He then pursued the luckless emissary of the Evil One, roaring and foaming with this unusual exertion.  There was now no lack of activity.  A hawk among the chickens, or a fox in a farm-yard, were nothing to it.  Sometimes was seen the doughty Sir Ralph driving the whole herd before him like a flock of sheep; but the original cause of the mischief generally contrived to mingle with the rabble rout, who in vain attempted to rid themselves of his company.  The knight was not over-nice in the just administration of his discipline.  Often, when he thought himself near enough for its accomplishment, he aimed a terrific blow, but shot wide of the mark, bringing down the innocent and unoffending victims, who strewed the floor like swaths behind the mower.  Whenever a lucky individual could disentangle himself from his comrades, he darted through the door, and in spite of the storm and pitchy darkness without, thought himself too happy in escaping with a few holes in his skin.  Yet he of the horns and tail, by some chance or another, always passed unhurt; a hideous laugh accompanying the adroit contrivances by which he eluded the cudgel.

The hall was now but scantily supplied with guests; the runaways and wounded having diminished the numbers to some half-score.  A parley was now sounded by the victorious and pursuing enemy.

“Hold, ye lubberly rascals!  Ye scum—­ye recrement—­why do ye run?” said the knight, puffing with great vigour.  “I say, why run ye!” brandishing his club.  “Bring hither that limb of Satan, and ye shall depart every one to his home.  Lay hold of him, I tell ye, and begone.”

But these terms of capitulation were by no means so easy to accept as the proposer imagined.

The first mover of the mischief had gotten himself perched on a projecting ledge by the gallery, from whence they were either unable or unwilling to dislodge him.

“How!” said the knight.  “Ye are afraid, cowards, I trow.  Now will I have at thee, for once.  I’ll spoil thy capering!” This threat was followed by a blow aimed at the devoted representative from the infernal court; but it failed to dismount him, for he merely shrunk aside, and it was rendered harmless.  Another and a more contumelious laugh announced this failure.  Even the Black Knight grew alarmed.  The being was surely invulnerable.  He stayed a moment ere he repeated the attack, when, to his unspeakable horror and astonishment, there issued a thin squeaking voice from underneath the disguise.