The contest was a long one; the champions vying with each other in skill. Finally, Comte Piper was adjudged the victor. The judge and the heralds proclaimed his name and conducted him to the feet of the queen, who, while complimenting him, vested him with the scarf, the reward of his skill, and held out the hand that embroidered the ornament for him to kiss. The trumpets sounded a joyous blast, while cheers broke forth greeting the victorious young champion, who was moreover pelted with flowers. His banner was hung upon a car drawn by two milk-white reindeer richly caparisoned: Comte Fersen had sent for them to his estate in Lapland to offer them to the king. The car was escorted by the whole of the Court across the park to the banqueting hall at the castle. Several tables had been spread; the king presided over that occupied by his family and the victorious knight; the chancellor and the grand officers of the crown presided over the others. Refreshments were served to the people in the garden, and when night set in, the gaiety that prevailed on the immense lawn and in the bosky dells glittering with lights invested the fête with the air of a family gathering.
After the banquet we went to the beautiful opera-house to hear the lyrical drama of _Gustave Wasa_, the music of which was by Piccini, and the libretto by the late king. Finally, a general illumination of the gardens, a torchlight procession, and enormous fireworks fitly wound up the day, which doubtless was among the small number of happy ones reserved by fate for Gustavus-Adolphus IV.
The guests of the Princesse Jean de Lichtenstein had listened attentively to the particulars of a fête which apparently did not belong to our own times. The listeners, and especially the fair sex, had probably expected a sequel to the challenge of the knight of the black banner, which sequel, of course, was to take the form of a ‘combat to the death.’ The pacific termination of the tournament seemed to cause more or less of a disappointment. I ventured to remark that neither the tournament at Stockholm nor the _carrousel_ in Vienna could compare with the games enacted on the bridge of Pisa, which, from the standpoint of danger and tenacity of purpose, presented the most perfect image of the old wars in Italy of the Middle Ages. No one present but myself had ever witnessed these games, and I was asked to convey an idea of them.