How had he fared?
His adversary's weapon had glanced harmless along the blank surface of his polished buckler; and the victory so far was with him.
The expression of the Rowski's face, as, bareheaded, he glared on his enemy with fierce bloodshot eyeballs, was one worthy of a demon.

The imprecatory expressions which he made use of can never be copied by a feminine pen.
His opponent magnanimously declined to take advantage of the opportunity thus offered him of finishing the combat by splitting his opponent's skull with his curtal-axe, and, riding back to his starting-place, bent his lance's point to the ground, in token that he would wait until the Count of Eulenschreckenstein was helmeted afresh.
"Blessed Bendigo!" cried the Prince, "thou art a gallant lance: but why didst not rap the Schelm's brain out ?" "Bring me a fresh helmet!" yelled the Rowski.

Another casque was brought to him by his trembling squire.
As soon as he had braced it, he drew his great flashing sword from his side, and rushed at his enemy, roaring hoarsely his cry of battle.

The unknown knight's sword was unsheathed in a moment, and at the next the two blades were clanking together the dreadful music of the combat! The Donnerblitz wielded his with his usual savageness and activity.
It whirled round his adversary's head with frightful rapidity.

Now it carried away a feather of his plume; now it shore off a leaf of his coronet.