{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_44428/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_44428","id":"gutenberg_44428","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/44428","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Adventure","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Humour","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Charlemagne, Emperor, 742-814 -- Fiction","France -- History -- Humor"],"text":"THE DAYS OF CHIVALRY\n\nOR THE LEGEND OF CROQUEMITAINE\n\nBy Ernest Louis Victor Jules L\u2019Epine\n\n\nFREELY TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH OF L\u2019EPINE BY TOM HOOD.\n\nILLUSTRATED WITH 177 DESIGNS ON WOOD\n\nBY GUSTAVE DOR\u00c9.\n\n[Illustration: 008]\n\n[Illustration: 009]\n\n[Illustration: 013]\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\nIN translating L\u2019Epine\u2019s charming legend, I have felt it my duty to\nadhere as closely as possible to the text. \u201cAdaptations\u201d and \u201cversions,\u201d\n whether presented on the stage or set down in black and white, seem to\nclaim for those, who give them in English, a greater share of the\nglory than I feel myself to deserve, in the slightest degree, in\nthis instance. The delicacy with which the moral is interwoven in the\nnarrative, without in the least injuring the true legendary tone of the\nadventures related, is as far beyond any improvement I could make, as\nit is above the usual clap-trap \u201ctag\u201d with which dramas and children\u2019s\nstories are ordinarily burdened.\n\nI scarcely know to whom I should appeal as my readers, for the story I\nhave delighted in rendering into English seems to me likely to afford\npleasure in the perusal to older heads than those which I am sure would\ngather over the pages in the nursery. For there are a quiet humour and\na delicate fancy running through the legend, amid all the exciting\naccounts of loves and wars, tourneys and battles, accidents and\nadventures, which do not lose interest because they are illustrated by\nthe powerful pencil of Gustave Dor\u00e9. That great artist\u2019s fancy supplies\nthese introductory lines with a tail-piece, which aptly typifies the\nbook. Its author has ably made the doings of knights and paladins point\na useful moral as well as adorn an interesting tale, just as the artist\nmakes the arms of the chivalric age serve to frighten the birds from the\nfields that supply our humble daily bread.\n\n[Illustration: 014]\n\n\n\n\nBOOK THE FIRST -- THE TOURNEY AT FRONSAC -- A.D. 769.\n\n[Illustration: 017]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. CHARLEMAGNE.\n\nTHE story which I am about to relate happened (if it ever did happen)\nin the time of the famous Emperor Charlemagne. There is no necessity,\nin speaking of that remarkable epoch, to invent facts. The truth is so\nastounding that it will make you open your eyes quite wide enough. What\nmarvellous doings of fairies, ogres, or demons, can compare with the\ndeeds of Charlemagne? and what magic ring could be as potent as his\nsword?\n\nBut before I proceed further it will be as well to sketch for you, in a\nfew lines, the portrait of this hero.\n\nHe was eight feet in height, according to the measurement of his own\nfeet, which historians allege with fervour were of remarkable length.\nHis eyes were large and piercing. When he was enraged you could almost\nhave fancied they flashed fire. His face was broad and ruddy, his hair\nbrown, and he wore a beard that was innocent of the barber\u2019s shears.\nAlthough he measured eight feet round the middle, his figure was\nwellproportioned. He devoured with ease at one repast a quarter of\nmutton, or a goose, or a ham, or a peacock. He was moderate in the\nmatter of wine, which he used to take with water. His strength was so\nenormous that it was mere child\u2019s play to him to straighten with his\nnaked hands three horse-shoes at a time. He could lift at arm\u2019s length,\non the palm of his hand, a knight in full armour; and lie could cleave\nin twain, with one blow of his sword, a horseman in panoply of war--aye,\nand his horse into the bargain. This was mere sport to him, and often,\nwith a charming complaisance which was peculiarly his own, he would take\npleasure in thus giving those about him an ocular demonstration of his\nsuperhuman strength.\n\nHis anger was as terrible as the thunder, for it was as ready to burst\nforth and to strike.\n\nHe carves out a kingdom, with the compassion of a Titus, the sound\njudgment of a Solomon, the piety of a Joseph, the magnificence of a\nSardanapalus, and the wisdom of an \u00c6sop, he united two qualities more\nrare than all these put together? when he spoke he meant what he said,\nand when others spoke to him he took time for reflection, in order to\nmake sure that he thoroughly understood their meaning.\n\nThe dominion which his father bequeathed him did not suit the largeness\nof his views, so he carved out for himself a kingdom which was more in\nharmony with his gigantic instincts.\n\n[Illustration: 018]\n\nBorn in 742, and raised to the throne in 768, he had in 770 already\nmade conquest of Aquitaine and Lombardy. Four years after Germany was\nsubjugated by him. He made fifty-three military expeditions, and he\nbegan the ninth century by having himself crowned Emperor of the West by\nPope Leo the Third. He was a generous dispenser of crowns, and gave\naway principalities and duchies as freely as now-a-days we give away\nrecorderships. Pie had two capitals in his dominions: the one was Rome,\nthe other was Aix-la-Chapelle. He promulgated the code of laws known as\nCapitularies. He defended religion, spread the Gospel, encouraged the\nfine arts, and introduced into his cathedrals organs which he imported\nfrom Lombardy. Surrounded by mighty minds, whose efforts he stimulated,\nand whose labours he shared, he founded many schools and\nuniversities. He died in 814, after three-and-forty years of sovereign\npower--three-and-forty years of victories and wonders.\n\nReally, my dear readers, if you are not satisfied with Charlemagne for a\nhero, you must be very difficult to please!\n\n[Illustration: 019]\n\n[Illustration: 020]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. WHICH THE AUTHOR CONGRATULATES HIMSELF ON NOT HAVING TO\nREAD.\n\nI SHOULD be extremely sorry to weary you, my dear readers; in fact,\nI should be wretched if you were to look on this volume as serious\nreading, and yet I am compelled to sum up in a few words the great\nevents which agitated France at the time my story commences. However,\nput a bold face on it, and bolt this chapter without taking breath, as\nyou would swallow any peculiarly nauseous draught.\n\nAfter the death of Pepin the Short, in 768, his two sons, Carloman and\nCharlemagne, divided his kingdom. Carloman, who was the elder, took\nBurgundy, Provence, Septimania, and the chief part of Neustria. His\ncoronation took place on the 9th October, 768, at Laon. Charlemagne had\npart of Neustria, Bavaria, and Thuringia. He was crowned at Soissons\non the same day as Carloman. Aquitaine was also shared between the\nbrothers. You are probably aware that Pepin the Short was the founder\nof the second line of French kings. The first line, that of the\nMerovingians, was not, however, extinct when he came to the throne, for\nthe Dukes of Aquitaine were of Merovingian descent. They sprang from\nCaribert, King of Toulouse, the son of Clotaire the Second. Eudes, who\nshares with Charles Martel the glory of having conquered the Saracens in\nthe sanguinary battle of Poitiers, in 732, was also of this family.\n\nHunald, the son of Eudes, had, at the time of Pepin\u2019s death, lived\nfive-and-twenty years in the convent to which that monarch had consigned\nhim. Now, the Merovingian Dukes of Aquitaine had a fierce hatred of the\nCarlovingian Kings of France, and accordingly, as soon as Hunald heard\nof the accession of Carloman and Charlemagne, he quitted the monastery,\ntook up arms, and proclaimed the independence of Aquitaine.\n\n[Illustration: 021]\n\nThe two newly-crowned kings had reason to be alarmed at an outbreak like\nthis, for, unless put down at the outset, it might arouse and encourage\nthe pretensions of the descendants of Clovis with regard to Neustria.\nCharlemagne summoned a Parliament, to which he invited his brother. They\nboth came to it, attended by their ecclesiastics and nobles, and war was\ndecided upon.\n\nThe two kings crossed the Loire together; but Carloman, who, if one\nmay judge from the chronicles of the period, was of an un-amiable\ndisposition, had such quarrels with his brother about the partition of\ntheir inheritance, that it was even feared they would come to blows.\nThey therefore determined to part company. Carloman returned to Laon,\nand Charlemagne prosecuted the enterprise alone. He overran Aquitaine\nwithout meeting any resistance, as Charles Martel had done before him.\nHunald, a fugitive, and hard pressed, found himself obliged to seek\nshelter with his nephew Wolf, Duke of Gascony. Wolf! When was a name in\na fairy tale bestowed with more propriety? This Wolf was most deservedly\ncalled so, as you will see. As soon as Charlemagne discovered where his\nenemy had found an asylum, he dispatched some of his foremost knights\nto the Duke of Gascony, commanding him to deliver up the fugitive, and\nthreatening, if he refused, to enter his duchy and lay it waste.\n\n[Illustration: 022]\n\nIn those days, my dear readers, travelling was not quite so expeditious\nas it \u2018s now! so Charlemagne, foreseeing he would have to wait some\nmonths, established his camp on the borders of the forest. In the next\nplace, in order to put the time of his stay to profitable use, and to\ngive employment to his troops, about five leagues from Bordeaux he had a\nstrong fortress which was called Fronsac, or rather Fransiac, the castle\nof the Franks. The building of the castle was hardly completed when the\nby Wolf of Gascony, who did not in the least scruple to deliver up to\nCharlemagne, as a proof of his fealty, Hunald and his family, who had\nclaimed shelter of him.\n\nThe insurrection having been thus deprived of its leader, Aquitaine\nsubmitted to Charlemagne.\n\n[Illustration: 022]\n\n[Illustration: 023]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. CHARLEMAGNE\u2019S CORTEGE.\n\nCHARLEMAGNE determined to celebrate the fortunate issue of his campaign.\nJousts and tourneys were organised, and heralds were sent out far\nand wide; and before long knights began to pour in from the various\nprovinces: some to show their courage and exercise their strength and\nskill, others in the hope of enriching themselves with the spoils of\ntheir vanquished adversaries.\n\nThe spot chosen for the tournament was an extent of velvet sward\nsituated at the edge of a forest of oaks that were five hundred years\nold. A semi-circle of low hills formed a sort of amphitheatre, in the\ncentre of which a vast area, reserved for the combatants, was surrounded\nwith palisades. There were two entrances to the lists--one on the north,\nthe other on the south--each wide enough to admit of the passage of six\nknights on horseback abreast. Two heralds and six pursuivants had charge\nof each of these entries. Small detachments were scattered about here\nand there to maintain order--no easy task, for the inhabitants of the\nsurrounding country, with their wives, had assembled from all quarters\nalongside of the camp. On them it was difficult to impress a due\nobservance of discipline, and the unmanageable came in for showers of\nblows that were not laid on less heavily because it was a conquered\ncountry.\n\nOn a level space not far from the northern gate were raised twelve\ngorgeous pavilions, reserved for the twelve principal French champions\nwho held the lists. Pennons with their colours, and those of their\nlady-loves, fluttering in the wind, waved in the sunlight like flying\nserpents. Each knight had his shield suspended before his tent, under\nthe charge of a squire.\n\nFurther off, less costly tents served as lodgings for numerous warriors,\nwho were drawn together either by friendship or want of means. This\ncommunity formed a quaint sort of town, which had, as it were,\nsuburbs consisting of stable-sheds, and huts of all sorts, occupied\nby armourers, farriers, surgeons, and artisans, whose presence on such\noccasions was indispensable. Merchants at these times were exempted from\nall tolls and taxes, and accordingly the Jews had come to sell Venetian\ntrinkets and Oriental perfumes to the ladies; the Bretons brought their\nhoney for sale, and the Provencals displayed their clear olive oil; and\namid all these good things were to be seen, rambling about at random,\njugglers, troubadours, minstrels, and all other classes of poor\nBohemians, whose wits are sharp if their purses are scant. On the\nborders of the wood was erected a pavilion more magnificent than all the\nothers--it was that of Charlemagne; it was of cloth of gold, with purple\nstripes, powdered with gold eagles, and it was so bright that one would\nhave needed the eye of an eagle to support its lustre for an instant.\nAll about it were knights, squires, lackeys, and pages, coming and going\nas thickly as bees in a hive around their queen. On either side of the\nroyal tent, and all along the edge of the forest, were erected seats\nfor the spectators of rank, who promised to be numerous. They flocked-in\nevery hour in crowds, so delighted were they with spectacles of\nthis description, and, above all, so desirous were they of beholding\nCharlemagne, whose name had already begun to resound through Europe. The\nroyal box, more lofty than the others, and more richly decorated, was a\nlittle in front of the tent. Charlemagne had ordained that the Queen of\nBeauty should share this with him, in order that she might be surrounded\nby the most valiant knights and the most lovely ladies. The two retinues\nattended on her amid incessant peals of mirth and merriment.\n\nFinally, my dear readers, to finish the picture, figure to yourselves,\nsituated half-way between the lists and the forest, and surmounted by\na huge iron cross, a Gothic chapel, in which, each morning, Turpin, the\ngood and gallant Bishop of Rheims, officiated as priest in the presence\nof the kneeling multitude.\n\n[Illustration: 025]\n\nAt length the day of the tournament arrived. There had been many jousts\nbefore, but never had there been one of equal magnificence. From the\nearliest dawn the places were all occupied. Even the old trees were as\nthickly loaded with curious spectators as a plum-tree in August; and the\ngood folks were right to crowd so, for had they lived their lives six\ntimes over, they would never have seen anything equal to the sight\nagain, it was absolutely necessary for the soldiers to lay about\nwith their pike-staves, in order to calm the eager ardour of the most\nenthusiastic; but nobody took any notice of thumps that, under any other\ncircumstances, would have been received with an ill grace.\n\nAll of a sudden a flourish of trumpets made the air resound. A\nglittering advanced-guard entered the enclosure and took up their\nposition, and then Charlemagne entered the arena at the head of a\nnumerous escort of knights and nobles, and of ecclesiastics in rich\nvestments. Enthusiasm knew no bounds. \u201cMontjoie! Montjoie!\u201d resounded\non every side. Charlemagne, who later in life affected the greatest\nsimplicity in dress, had assumed for this great occasion the most\nbrilliant attire. His shirt was of fine linen, its border enriched\nwith gold embroidery. His tunic was of silk, plated with gold, and was\ncovered with precious stones of surpassing brightness--emeralds, rubies,\nand topaz. His armlets and girdle were chased with the most exquisite\nart, and his alms-pouch, which hung at his side, was besprinkled with\npearls and gems enough to dazzle a blind man. His brow was bound with\na glittering diadem. His whole figure shone with an unaccustomed\nsplendour, and he greatly surpassed in magnificence the grandest of\nhis dukes, counts, or barons. His steed, covered with gold and rich\ntrappings, seemed proud of the burthen it carried.\n\nThe Queen Himiltrude, a Frank by birth, advanced in the midst of her\nattendants. Her neck was tinged with a delicate rose, like that of a\nRoman matron in former ages. Her locks were bound about her temples\nwith gold and purple bands; her robe was looped up with ruby clasps. Her\ncoronet and her purple robes gave her an air of surpassing majesty. She\nwas a worthy queen of Charlemagne. But if the queen surpassed all other\nwomen in nobleness of mien, Aude, the niece of Gerard of Vienne, and\nsister of Oliver the Brave, surpassed her as much by her beauty, her\ngrace, and her attractiveness. She wore a light crown, embossed with\njewels of all colours. Her hair was fair, falling naturally into\nbecoming curls; her eyes were blue as the sea of the south; her\ncomplexion was pink, like the heart of a white rose; and her hands were\nmarvellously small. As she passed Roland, she turned slightly pale. If\nshe had been less lovely, I should have said more about her rich attire;\nbut what is the use, since nobody notices it? The queen must have been\nvery strong-minded, to retain so charming a lady of honour about her\nperson. On seeing the beautiful Aude, every one said, \u201cThere, or I\u2019ll\ndie for it, is the Queen of Beauty!\u201d\n\nAude had near her her sister Mita, fair as herself, but slightly browned\nby the Spanish sun under which she had been brought up. Two black eyes,\nfull lips, a finely-cut and regular nose, hair hanging down entwined\nwith long strings of threaded pearls and diamonds--there you have her\nportrait in a few words.\n\nHer bodice was covered with small pearls; yu might have called it a\npearl corslet. Indeed, those who saw her pass, admiring her martial\nbearing and her rich breastplate, gave her the nickname of \u201cthe little\nknight in pearl.\u201d\n\nAfter Aude and her sister came a bevy of beautiful young girls, but the\npeople hardly cared to look at them.\n\n[Illustration: 027]\n\nAt last came the peers and barons, clad in their most splendid armour.\nWhat a clash of gold, iron, and steel! How many swords that had won\nrenown! Every one of these puissant arms was worth ten ordinary knights\nin the tourney-ground--in battle worth a thousand!\n\nIt is difficult to explain the agility displayed by these men under such\na formidable weight of armour. An ox in these days could scarcely carry\none of them. The helmet alone weighed a hundred and twenty-five pounds.\nThey handled like playthings swords which we can hardly lift. \u201cAt the\nbattle of Hastings,\u201d says Robert Wace, \u201cTaillefer threw his up, and\ncaught it as if it had been a light stick.\u201d The horses were as powerful\nas the men. Reared in the rich pastures of the Rhine borders or Bavaria,\nhigh-standing and big-chested, they often took part in the contest,\ntearing with their splendid teeth the enemies of their masters. As soon\nas they were broken they were clad in iron, to protect them against\njavelins, spears, and swords.\n\n[Illustration: 031]\n\nLast of all appeared Roland, Count of Mans and Knight of Blaives, son\nof Duke Milo of Aiglant, and of Bertha, the sister of Charlemagne. You\nwould have taken him for a statue of iron and marble. His right hand\nbrandished a spear that in these days would serve for the mast of a\nfrigate; his left reposed on his faithful sword Durandal. I know of no\none to whom to compare him but the Archangel Michael. His air is at once\nterrible and tender: should one love him or fear him? He is of such a\nmajestic, awe-inspiring presence, that one can hardly be astonished at\nany wonders he performs. He appears to belong to a race that is more\nthan human, and you would hardly be surprised were he to drag a star\nfrom its sphere or seize a comet by the beard. He is of the same\nheight as Charlemagne, but more imposing in figure and gait. His open\ncountenance invites confidence and inspires respect. When Roland gives\na man his hand, the lucky fellow, who is thus honoured as with a royal\nfavour, feels, in the pride of having achieved such a distinction, a\ngreater confidence in his own worth. Roland is mounted on Veillantif,\nthe only horse in the world worthy of such a rider.\n\nClose at hand is Oliver, Count of Genes, the brother of the beautiful\nAude. He is hardly second to Roland in strength, in agility, and in\nappearance. At his side gleams Haute-Claire, and he is mounted on\nFerrant d\u2019Espagne, a steed that darts straight towards the foe like an\narrow. Then follow Duke Oger, Richard of Normandy, Thibault of Rheims,\nGuy of Burgundy, Ogier the Dane, Duke Naimes of Bavaria, Girard of\nMontdidier, Bernard, the uncle of Charlemagne; Miton of Rennes, the\nfriend of Roland; William of Orange, with the short nose, whose name\nmade evil-doers tremble (as you have trembled, little people, at the\nname of Bogey!); besides a thousand others, not forgetting Turpin, the\ngood Archbishop of Rheims, so learned in the council-hall, so pious\nin the cathedral, so brave on the field of battle. Turpin was armed\nin warlike fashion; his rosary and his mace hung side by side; in the\nhandle of the latter was enclosed a precious relic, a bone of St. Clet.\nHe could not wield a sword, for his religion forbade him to shed blood;\nbut it is a fact that his mace weighed a hundred and fifty pounds.\n\nNear Charlemagne was to be seen Wolf, Duke of Gascony--Wolf, who sold\nhis guest and his family--Wolf, who was without a rival in treachery,\nexcept Ganelon. Oh, how you will hate the pair of them, my friends,\nif you read my story to the end! Wolf was chiefly noticeable for his\narmour, which was of browned steel, damasked with silver, and which he\nhad purchased of the Saracens in Spain. He is more terrible in peace\nthan in war, and his favourite weapon is the gallows. He was less feared\nby his enemies than by his subjects, and would sooner knock a man down\nwith a blow of his fist than say, \u201cThank you.\u201d He was noted for his\ningenuity in matters of torture, and has the credit of being the\noriginator of the plan of tying wetted ropes round the temples of his\nprisoners to make their eyeballs start out of their sockets. It was he,\ntoo, who had them sewed up in freshly-stript bulls\u2019 hides, and exposed\nto the sun until the hides in shrinking broke their bones. But what is\nthe most awful to tell is that no one had ever seen him in a rage. He\nwas cruel in cold blood from inclination and appetite. The smell of\nblood delighted him more than frankincense or verbena. Charlemagne\nhardly spoke to him, and it was with difficulty that he could prevent\nhis dislike of him from appearing.\n\nCount Ganelon, of Mayence, was not quite so base a savage. At all\nevents, his bravery was unquestionable; he could be a useful councillor,\nand if the envy with which Roland inspired him had not driven him to\nevil deeds, he might have been one of the foremost of Charlemagne\u2019s\nfollowers. A lover of solitude, a taciturn and even savage man, an\nirreligious unbeliever in all noble sentiments--such was Ganelon in\nmoral disposition. Need I say he had no friends? In height he was hardly\nsix feet and a half, and he wished all those who were taller than he\nwas, even by the breadth of a line, were of his height. His eyes glared\nfrom beneath the shadow of his fiery locks, like those of a savage\nhound. He loved gold only to hoard it, and affected great poverty.\nYou would have thought him one of Attila\u2019s Huns rather than one of the\npaladins of Charlemagne\u2019s court. Ganelon could not forgive Roland for\nhaving rendered him a service on several occasions. The superiority of\nCharlemagne\u2019s nephew drove him mad. This may, perhaps, surprise some,\nof the younger of my readers, but it is too true that to evil minds\ngratitude is displeasing and troublesome. But I had better make you\nacquainted with the particular grievances of the Count of Mayence.\n\n[Illustration: 033]\n\n[Illustration: 034]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. HOW GANELON, COUNT OF MAYENCE, WAS NEARLY SMOKED IN THE\nCOMPANY OF TWO HOGS, AND WHAT FOLLOWED THEREAFTER.\n\nGANELON\u2019S castle was situated on the loftiest peak of the Hartz\nMountains, the Blocksberg. There, in the midst of the Hercynian forest,\nwhich cannot be less than twenty-four leagues in length by ten in\nbreadth, towered the eyrie of this vulture. One road, and only one,\ntraversed this vast extent of forest, but Ganelon took care that it\nshould always be in good repair; it was a courtesy which he felt was due\nfrom him to the travellers he despoiled.\n\n[Illustration: 035]\n\nThe count had gathered round him a collection of the best assorted\nruffians of every country; Saxons, Danes, Lombards, Jews, and Saracens,\nlent him a hand to forward the interests of the Evil One. One morning he\ncalled them all together, and said to them---\n\n\u201cI have pleasant news for you. We have the opportunity of playing a\npretty trick on some Saxon traders. I have just been informed that a\ncaravan, consisting of thirty mules, laden with treasure, and conveyed\nby a small escort, is about to cross the Hartz Mountains this morning,\nto attend the fair of St. Denis. I have conceived the design of\nprotecting French commerce, and putting a stop to the opposition which\nis meditated against it. Under the protection of our patron saints, the\ntwo thieves, we will make ourselves masters of this venture.\u201d\n\nGanelon and his rascals placed themselves in ambush along the border of\nthe forest, and before long saw a thick cloud of dust rising along the\nroad in the distance.\n\n\u201cHere,\u201d cried they, \u201cbeyond a doubt, are those we are waiting for. Let\nus save them three-quarters of their journey;\u201d and they rushed forward,\nsword in hand. The two opposing storms of dust approached each other,\nand from the further came the cry, \u201ci\u2019 what are you doing? You\u2019ll\ndestroy the beasts!\u201d\n\nGanelon and his men had charged into the midst of an army of porkers,\ndriven by Westphalian swineherds.\n\n[Illustration: 037]\n\nThe surprise of the assailants was so great that it allowed the\nswineherds time to form in a body and draw their knives; and those\nweapons were not to be sneered at, readers mine, for they were those\nwhich butchers use for quartering and cutting up carcases.\n\nGanelon remained for a moment undecided. That hesitation was fatal. The\nJews and Saracens, to whom pork is a forbidden dish, did not think it\nworth while to press matters further. They accordingly retreated, taking\nwith them several of their fellows, who thought their chief would retire\ninto ambuscade again. But a Count of Mayence is not the man to despise\nbacon and sour-crout. So Ganelon, gazing over the ocean of lard which\ngrunted at his feet, began to lick his lips, and think that here was\na booty which was quite as well worth having as the other. But the\nswineherds knew with whom they had to deal, and, indeed, had come in\nsuch numbers solely because they expected an attack. They rushed on the\ncount and his lances, and began to hamstring the horses. The horsemen\nwere soon rolling in the dust among the hogs. Two of them, who showed an\ninclination to resist, were very properly run through on the spot, and\nmingled their lifeblood with that of two pigs that had been run down\nby the horses. The others were disarmed, and allowed to escape. As for\nGanelon, they tied his hands tightly behind his back.\n\n\u201cNow then,\u201d said the head swineherd, \u201cbefore they pluck up courage to\ncome back in force, suppose we hang their leader?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 038]\n\nThis idea appeared very agreeable to everybody except Ganelon, who\nuttered the most furious oaths. But they dragged him, armed as he was,\nunder an oak, and then, having chosen a stout bough worthy of such fine\nfruit, they adjusted the cord round his neck. Then they brought the two\nslaughtered pigs--the only victims of the Count of Mayence--and having\nfitted each with a strong hempen cravat, suspended them one at each\nend of the bough, reserving the post of honour for the knight. These\npreparations concluded, Ganelon was dragged, bound hand and foot, to the\nplace of execution. He writhed about in the madness of his rage, foaming\nat the mouth, calling on his companions in villany, and cursing them\nfor their desertion. In vain did he struggle--a score of sturdy arms\nspeedily hoisted him up between his two companions.\n\n\u201cPull down his visor,\u201d said the head swineherd to the man who was on the\nbough adjusting the noose, \u201cthe monster is hideous enough at the best of\ntimes--what will he look like presently?\u201d\n\nGanelon continued to struggle at the end of the cord, to the great\ndelight of the spectators, who, though they found him tenacious of life,\ndid not complain on that account.\n\nMeanwhile, the count began to find that death was rather slow in coming.\nHe had hanged too many not to know something about it, and in this\ninstance it was so personally interesting to him that it could not fail\nto arrest his attention. \u201cThese knaves,\u201d said he to himself, \u201chave made\na sad bungle of the job. I ought to have been dead some time.\u201d And\nthen it dawned on him that he was only suspended, not hanged. His\nexecutioners had put the noose round the gorget of his helmet.\n\n\u201cOho!\u201d said Ganelon to himself, \u201cthis is quite another affair, and\nall is not yet lost, possibly. Only, if I continue my gambols, I may,\nperhaps, give the hint to these idiots, and they might hang me again\nmore carefully. I\u2019ll sham dead, and it\u2019s odd if the Evil One doesn\u2019t\nsend some one to my aid. It would be very inconsiderate of him to let me\ndie like this!\u201d\n\nNevertheless, for one who wasn\u2019t dead, the count was uncommonly near\ndeath. The blood rushed to his head, and filled his eyes. He began to\nhear a dismal noise in his ears, like the tolling of a bell. His mouth\ngrew dry, his lips were contracted, and presently his limbs gave one\nlast convulsive struggle. Ganelon confessed to himself that all\nwas over, and lost consciousness while faintly murmuring a final\nimprecation. The swineherds, encouraged by their success, and not\nwishing to leave the two hogs for the enemy, resolved to cook and eat\nthem. They posted sentinels, collected their herds, and prepared to\ncelebrate their victory with a feast.\n\n\u201cIt strikes me,\u201d said the chief swineherd, \u201cif we were to omit an\nopportunity of throwing a light on a point of interest to culinary\nscience, we should regret it all our lives. A rare and remarkable\nopportunity offers itself to us now--we must not allow it to escape us.\nAre you not all equally anxious, with myself, to learn whether it takes\nlonger to smoke a peer than a pig?\u201d\n\nThe suggestion was a great success. They collected a heap of sticks\nand leaves under each of the three victims, and lighted it. And then,\njoining hands, they began to dance round, uttering wild shouts.\n\nRoland, it so chanced, was returning this way from Saxony, whither he\nhad been sent by Charlemagne. He had, certes, in war laid many a man\ndead in his path, but he had never permitted a cruelty to be committed\nin his presence. His indignation was roused by these vile chantings,\nthis demoniac dance, and all the hideous apparatus of torture. He was\nnot long in deciding what course to pursue. He rode at the dancers, and\ndispersed them with the flat of his sword, not deigning to honour them\nby using against them the edge, which he reserved for foemen more worthy\nof him.\n\nThen he made to the hanging man, and in order to cut the roue, had to\nkeep Veillantif for a few seconds trampling on the embers in the midst\nof the flames. The Count of Mayence tumbled heavily into the middle of\nthe fire. Roland dismounted, with one hearty kick sent him rolling some\nfifty paces, and then ran to assist him.\n\n[Illustration: 040]\n\nHis first care was to relieve him of his helmet. When he recognised\nwhose life he had saved, I must admit he made a grimace. The Count of\nMans, the faultless mirror of chivalry, could feel no liking for such\nwretches, but he was not the less ready to aid them.\n\nGanelon re-opened his eyes. His succession of tumbles had done more to\nrecover him than all the eau-de-cologne in the world would have done.\nWhen he saw his preserver, he heartily wished it had not been Roland.\n\n[Illustration: 041]\n\n\u201cAre you hurt, count? What can I do to assist you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t want your pity, Knight of Blaives. Why have you rescued me? I\nam not of a race or of a disposition likely to love those who place me\nunder an obligation, and it would have been less bitter for me to die\nthan to owe my life to you!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 042]\n\n\u201cI forgive these words, Sir Ganelon. You have just undergone such a\nshock, that you have evidently not quite recovered your senses!\u201d\n\nAt these words the Count of Mayence was seized with such a paroxysm\nof rage, that he found strength enough to try to avenge the insult. He\nflung himself on his preserver, and seized him by the throat.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll make yourself ill again,\u201d said Roland, coolly freeing himself\nfrom the other\u2019s grasp. \u201cYou forget that you are not quite well yet.\nAllow me to administer a curative process which you ought to undergo.\u201d\n\nWith these words he caught his adversary by the scruff of the neck,\ndragged him beside his horse into the heart of the forest, tied his\nhands with the cord that had already served him as a halter, and bound\nhim fast to a tree.\n\nGanelon foamed at the mouth, and bit his lips till the blood came. The\nfury in his eyes would have been terrible to any but Roland.\n\n\u201cNow, count, calm yourself. You see I am anxious to cure you in spite of\nyourself. Nothing conduces to meditation like solitude. Now that you are\nalone, you will have time for reflection; and if you are a wise man, you\nwill say to yourself, \u2018This Roland is a very good fellow not to break\nevery bone in my body;\u2019 and, since you are a coward and a villain, you\nwill possibly say, \u2018This Roland was a fool not to kill me outright.\u2019 You\nwill finish by perceiving that such a man as I can only despise one\nlike you. Meditate, and if Heaven is kind, it will counsel you prudence.\nAnyhow, do not make an uproar, for fear your enemies should disturb\nyour reflections, which, in that case, very likely, might come to a\ntermination at the end of a rope. I will call at your castle, and\nsend some one to your assistance: as my royal uncle is awaiting me at\nCologne, you must excuse my attending on you further. Don\u2019t forget,\nmoreover, that I am, and always shall be, ready to honour you with a\nthrust of my lance or blow of my sword, in spite of the disgust I should\nfeel at having to cross swords with a highway robber!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 043]\n\nGanelon\u2019s thoughts were so frightful that the human language is unable\nto express them. He hung down his head, and when he found himself\nalone he wept. His tears fell upon the grass; an innocent caterpillar,\nwandering in search of food, mistook them for dewdrops, tasted them, and\ndied of the poison.\n\nTwo hours after, the swineherds had disappeared, and Ganelon re-entered\nhis castle. Eight hours after, all whom Ganelon believed to be\nacquainted with his mishap were dead.\n\nSix months after, he was at the court of Charlemagne, seated at the same\ntable as Roland. Pork was placed on the table, but the Count of Mayence\nrefused it.\n\n\u201cYou bear malice, count,\u201d said Roland; \u201cthat is wrong. Who knows?\nperhaps you are refusing an old brother in misfortune.\u201d\n\nGanelon turned livid, but he did not stir. After the feast was over\nRoland came to him.\n\n\u201cHave you forgotten,\u201d he asked, \u201cthe threats you uttered and the offer I\nmade to you in your domain on the Hartz?\u201d\n\n\u201cI never forget,\u201d said the Count of Mayence.\n\nHere, then, was the prime cause of Ganelon\u2019s hatred of Roland.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. ANGOULAFFRE OF THE BRAZEN TEETH, GOVERNOR OF JERUSALEM.\n\nWHILE I have been wandering with you, my friends, on the Blocksberg,\nCharlemagne, followed by his brilliant retinue, has been making a tour\nof the list upon his prancing charger. He had just regained the royal\ntent when a shout was heard from the crowd. All eyes were turned towards\nthe Southern gate, whence proceed strains of wild music and strange\ncries. Charlemagne halted, and sent to inquire who ventured to disturb\nthe ceremony. A squire rode off at full galop, and promptly returned to\nmake the following report:--\n\n\u201cSire, certain miscreant Saracens from Spain have come to challenge your\npeers in the name of King Marsillus, who holds his court at Saragossa.\nTheir appearance is frightful. They come in procession, preceded by a\nband of unearthly music truly worthy of pagans, and demand admittance to\nyour presence.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet them enter,\u201d said Charlemagne, motioning to the heralds who guarded\nthe gate. \u201cSee,\u201d he added, turning to his barons, \u201cwhat a lucky to try\nyour hands 011 the Spanish hounds in anticipation of the time when we\nshall pay them a visit at Saragossa--ay, and even at Granada, for we\nmust compel then to be baptised for the glory of God and the safety of\ntheir souls.\u201d\n\n\u201cHave they lost all shame that they dare look a Christian in the face?\u201d\n said Miton of Rennes. \u201cWhy, the earth has barely yet had time to drink\nup all the blood that was shed on the plains of Poitiers.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo doubt they are bent upon a pilgrimage thither,\u201d remarked Turpin, \u201cto\npray for the repose of their sires--that is, if such miscreants have\nfathers, and do not spring fully grown and ready armed from the jaws of\nhell!\u201d\n\n\u201cHow could they blush?\u201d said Aude, pointing to the first of the Saracens\nwho had passed the barriers; \u201ctheir complexion is of the colour of our\nhorses\u2019 harness.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, the hideous brutes!\u201d said Himiltrude, shutting her eyes. \u201cIt is\nimpossible they can be men.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet none forget that these are our guests,\u201d said Charlemagne. \u201cWe must\nbe courteous even to Pagans.\u201d\n\nCuriosity was at its height. Every one rose to catch a glimpse of the\nemissaries of Marsillus; even the knights of Charlemagne\u2019s escort raised\nthemselves in their stirrups to obtain a view of the strangers.\n\nThere entered first sixty horsemen, blacker than Satan. Their flattened\nnoses, their huge ears decorated with large ear-rings, their thick lips,\nwere for the spectators so many objects of ridicule. Their bare arms\nwere loaded with bracelets from wrist to shoulder; their heads were\nprotected by light casques, around which were wound turbans of white\nsilk. All were clad in the richest stuffs, and vied with one another in\nappearance. Some were loudly beating kettle-drums; others were blowing\nwith distended cheeks horns of extraordinary shape; others, again, were\nringing hand-bells or striking triangles of steel; while from time\nto time there resounded the deep bellowing of ten bronze gongs, whose\nvibrations so vehemently shook the spectator as even to induce a desire\nto cough!\n\nImmediately after these came a hundred knights, of noble aspect, clad in\ntriple mail, so flexible and light that a girl of fifteen might wear it\nwith ease, and yet so stout that it was proof against the thrust of a\nSaracen lance; as for the thrust of a French lance, we will see about\nthat by and by. Their faces were protected by Saragossan helmets, and\nthey were armed with the heavy spear of Valence; while their swords\u2019,\nalthough light, could cut through or hack away steel armour, so\ndexterous were they in wielding them.\n\nBehind them marched twelve standard-bearers. Here the crescent and\nthe horse-tail of the Moslem took the place of the red cross and the\nbannerets which led the Christians to combat.\n\nLast of all, ten horse-lengths from this vanguard, appeared the envoys\nof Marsillus, King of Portugal, Castile, Arragon, Leon, and Valence. All\nwho beheld them trembled, and ridicule gave place to alarm.\n\n[Illustration: 044]\n\nHe was twelve cubits in height, and his face measured three feet across,\nhis nose being nine inches long. His arms and legs were six feet long;\nhis fingers were six inches and two lines. His inordinately large mouth\nwas armed with sharp-pointed yellow tusks, and seemed less like human\njaws than the portcullis of some rude stronghold. He was descended from\nGoliath, and assumed the title of Governor of Jerusalem. He had the\nstrength of thirty men, and his mace was made of the trunk of an oak\nthree hundred years old.*\n\nThis monster was attired in the hides of strange wild beasts, slain by\nhimself on the peaks of Atlas, whither no other mortal had been able to\npenetrate.\n\nHis horse was without a match in the world, for it was up to his\nenormous weight. It gave a loud neigh on entering the list, and so\nalarmed all the other steeds that they reared, and in some instances\nunseated their riders--a disaster at which the Saracens burst into roars\nof laughter.\n\nHimiltrude, in her terror, crossed herself, convinced that the\nnew-comers would vanish in smoke before she could say \u201cAmen!\u201d But the\nPagans continued to advance in good order.\n\n[Illustration: 046]\n\n\u201cHell must surely have gaped to-day!\u201d said Mita.\n\n\u201cI do not know,\u201d said Oliver, \u201cwhether these miscreants have issued\nthence this morning, but I\u2019m sure they will sleep there to-night!\u201d\n\nCharlemagne knitted his brows. Aude trembled for Roland, whose thoughts\nshe could read in his face.\n\nHard by Angoulaffre of the Brazen Teeth rode Murad Henakyeh\nMeimoumovassi, son of Marsillus. He was styled \u201cThe Lord of the Lion.\u201d\n\n     * Some of the learned have alleged that Angoulaffre\n     travelled in Italy, and that one evening, while at Pisa,\n     being a little the worse for his potations, he leant against\n     the well-known tower, which, unable to bear his weight, lost\n     from that moment its centre of gravity. This is an error,\n     which I am glad to have an opportunity of rectifying. The\n     Leaning Tower, begun in the year 1174 was not finished until\n     the middle of the fourteenth century.\n\n[Illustration: 047]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. MURAD\u2019S THREE WHIMS.\n\nMARSILLUS one day observed that his son\u2019s manner was more caressing than\nusual, so he took him on his knee and said--\n\n\u201cWhat does my child want to-day? Generally he does not embrace me at\nall, but since the morning he has done so three times!\u201d\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d said Murad, leaning his little head on his father\u2019s shoulder, \u201cI\nshould like to have your yataghan that hangs at your side!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! Have you broken all your toys, or are you tired of play that you\nask me for such a formidable weapon?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am seven years old,\u201d said Murad, drawing himself up; \u201cI am no longer\na child, and can carry arms. The sight of blood has no terror for\nme--nay! look\u201d--and rapidly snatching the yataghan before the king\nhad time to stop him, he gave himself a gash in the arm. Then, without\nflinching, he looked at his father, and said, \u201cYou see you can trust me\nwith it!\u201d The king staunched the blood and bound up the gash with his\nscarf. Then, embracing his son, he gave him the coveted weapon.\n\nThe same evening Murad was seized with a second whim.\n\nHe had never been allowed to to out alone--what could be more delightful\nthan to take a stroll abroad at night? He only knew the face of Nature\nby day, he wished to see her in her silent moments, in the hours\nof gloom and half-obscured moonlight. He had heard of the songs of\nnight-birds, of the roar of the hungry lion; of those insects which,\nglittering among the leaves, turn every bush into a casket of diamonds;\nof the mysterious odours which earth yields to the flowers only in the\nsolemn hours of darkness; but now he determined to see, to hear, and to\nlearn all these for himself.\n\n[Illustration: 048]\n\nHe retired to rest as usual, placed his yataghan under his pillow, and\nwaited till all was quiet in the palace. Then he rose softly, dressed\nhimself, and walked to the door of his apartments. There he found his\ngovernor sleeping across the threshold. He paused to reflect.\n\n\u201cIf I try to open this door, I shall rouse my guardian. If I wake him,\nwill he grant my prayers? Certainly not. Will he yield to my threats?\nNo; he will only laugh at them. If I disturb his slumbers, therefore, it\nwill be to place him in a position of great difficulty, which I should\nexceedingly regret. It will be better, then, not to wake him!\u201d--and\nMurad quietly thrust the point of his sword down the sleeper\u2019s throat,\nand quitted the place.\n\nThe first thing he had to do was to cross the gardens. It seemed as if\nhe had never seen them before. The fountains falling back into their\nbasins made a silvery tinkling, which formed a ravishing accompaniment\nto the song of the nightingales. The bats, which looked like great\nleather birds, wheeled in circles through the air upon noiseless wings.\nThe trees, allowing the moonbeams to filter through their foliage, flung\nmosaics of light and shade upon the sward.\n\nMurad fancied he saw one of the marble lions move, and started back, but\nspeedily seeing his mistake, was heartily ashamed of himself, although\nhe knew there was no one near to laugh at his alarm. If a real lion had\nchanced to pass at that moment he would have had to pay for the fright\nwhich the statue had cost Murad. As soon as he had recovered the first\nfeeling of surprise at the novelty, of the scene, Murad, who was not\nexactly of a poetic temperament, hurried on. What he wanted to see was\nnot the garden--fine enough in its way, but only a prison, beyond the\nwalls of which he had never wandered at liberty--where every step he\nset was on a well-kept lawn. He wanted freedom of space and chance\nadventure. He sprang over the wall and fell into the midst of a\ndetachment of Nubians going their rounds.\n\nWhen he saw the guards coming he said to himself, \u201cThese people have run\naway once, so they may do it again. Ought I to wait for them to come?\nNo! My best plan is to rush upon them.\u201d\n\nHe did so. They met. The first who encountered him had reason to regret\nit, but his regret did not last long. In two minutes he was dead. Murad\nflung some silver to the others and plunged into the thicket.\n\n[Illustration: 049]\n\nThe Nubians left their dead comrade on the ground, but they picked up\nthe money. It is, however, a matter of time to find coins in long grass,\neven by the bright light of an Eastern moon, so that Murad could escape\nat leisure, and at last reached a sombre and dense wood. When, however,\nthe Nubians had divided the spoil, their captain called them together,\nand said--\n\n\u201cYou are a pack of cowards and fools. This was but a lad we had to do\nwith--some precious young rascal, who has just been making a hole in\nthe royal treasury. Why, he\u2019s a mine of wealth, that boy--a stream of\nriches, which glided away between our legs after besprinkling us with a\nfew silver drops. We must track it to the fountain head. He escaped\nin this direction. Our own interests, as well as our duties, point out\nplainly enough the course we should take.\u201d\n\nThe nine guards set forward, marching carefully, and trying the bushes\nwith their spears.\n\nMurad heard them approaching, but remained quite still in his\nhiding-place.\n\nAt last they had to cross an open glade flooded with moonlight. They\nheld a brief consultation as to the direction in which they should\nprosecute the search. The leader, picking out the darkest nook at\nthe edge of the wood, pointed it out to his men. The unthinking and\ninexperienced always pitch on the darkest spot for a hiding-place,\noverlooking the fact that it is sure to be the first to be searched. At\nthe moment when the officer was indicating to his men the direction\nthey should take, Murad, who was crouching in the underwood, felt a warm\nbreath upon his neck and ten sharp claws on his shoulders.\n\nIf I said he was not frightened I should tell a falsehood, especially\nwhen, on turning his head, he saw two eyes--two glowing red\nstars--gazing on him in the gloom. But fear did not abide long in the\nbreast of Murad. He saw, however, close by him another group of stars,\nan alarming constellation; in short, the young prince had hidden himself\nin a den with three young lions.\n\n[Illustration: 050]\n\nUnseen danger could make him tremble, but when he knew what he had to\ndeal with he recovered himself, and began to reflect on what he had to\ndo.\n\n\u201cHere I am, between three lions and nine Nubians, armed to the teeth;\nwhich should I dread most? The latter, of course, for I frightened them,\nand I killed one of them. They have two things to avenge on me. If I\nkill one of the lions he will roar, and at his voice these birds of\nnight will run away.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 051]\n\nMurad then seized by the throat the brute which was still tearing at his\nflesh, and drove the yataghan into his breast. But he miscalculated for\nthe cub paid the penalty of his life without uttering a single growl.\n\nStill the little army of invaders continued to advance, only instead of\ncoming on steadily they did so at the double. The child sprang to his\nfeet, seized the second of the lions, and flung him straight in the\nteeth of the advancing\u2019 band when it was but a few steps from the copse.\nThis new style of projectile had a most telling effect. The Nubians\nretraversed in ten seconds the ground it had taken them five-and-twenty\nminutes to get over in the first instance.\n\nThe field was Murad\u2019s. Of the three lion whelps one was dead, and a\nsecond one was struggling on the ground with a huge wound in the flank.\nHe did not emulate the taciturnity of his brother, for he filled the air\nwith piercing yells. The third was squatting under some thick boughs,\nuttering a low growling.\n\nAnd now Murad was seized with a third whim. It was not a bad one for a\nbeginner.\n\nHe wished to carry off the third cub as a memento of his first\nexpedition. He re-entered the bushes and searched about. Before long\nthe two youngsters came face to face. The cub, warned by the fate of\nhis brothers, stood on the defensive, and, as soon as Murad came within\nreach, plunged his talons into his neck. Murad smiled. He would not have\ncared to bag his game without some trouble, so taking his captive by the\nthroat he made him loose his hold. The lion gasped, choked, and at last,\nhalf-strangled, fell on his side, whereon the son of Marsillus took him\nby the scruff of the neck and carried him off.\n\n[Illustration: 052]\n\nThe wounded cub continued its moanings, which were soon answered by a\nfierce and formidable cry. The mother was coming to the rescue of her\nyoung! Murad saw that flight was impossible. The lioness came to a halt\non a neighbouring height, relieved in profile against the pale sky.\n\nShe searched with anxious and terrified eyes the glade whence the cries\nproceeded. Perceiving the wounded cub she made but one bound to it,\nrolled it over and over, licking its wounds, trampling and tearing\nthe ground with her claws. At intervals she raised her head, and gave\nutterance to a menacing roar. Her fierce caresses hastened the cub\u2019s\ndeath. When she saw he no longer stirred she devoted herself to\nsearching for some one on whom to avenge the great calamity which had\novertaken her. Then she heard the complainings of the other cub which\nwas being carried off, and she stood astonished at the audacity of the\nrobber. You would have declared she knew Murad could not fly. Without\nhurrying herself at all, she advanced towards him in narrowing circles,\nof which he was the centre, lashing her sides with her tail, lowering\nher head, laying back her ears, and opening her terrific jaws.\n\nMurad availed himself of the delay to drag off his clothes, and roll\nthem round his left arm; and then, scimitar in hand, awaited her attack,\ndetermined to make a stout defence, but feeling certain he had but few\nminutes to live. He continued to retreat, fixing his eyes on those of\nhis terrible adversary, until he reached a rock, against which he placed\nhis back.\n\nOn arriving within a few paces of the lad, the lioness sprang upon him.\nMurad sank on one knee, and thrust nearly the whole of his left arm down\nthe monster\u2019s throat. The pain he suffered was horrible, and drew from\nhim so savage a shout that even the lioness was terrified. Then, not\nknowing what he was doing, mad with rage and pain, and guided less by\npresence of mind than instinct, he drove his steel into the creature\u2019s\nbelly, and ripped it entirely open. Then, bathed in blood, he sank\nbeneath the corpse of his victim, and lost consciousness.\n\n[Illustration: 053]\n\nAnd now, my young friends, we will no longer stop out of doors at this\ntime of night, but re-enter the palace, and see what is going on there.\n\nEvery hour the guards went the rounds of the building. One of the\nsoldiers, in passing the door of Murad\u2019s chamber, slipped, and fell\nat full length on the pavement, to the great scandal of his commanding\nofficer. Picking himself up, he beat a retreat to the guard-room, amid\nthe jeers of his brothers-in-arms.\n\n[Illustration: 054]\n\nThe guard-room was dimly lit by a smoky lamp, which, however, gave\nenough light to enable the soldier, on approaching it, to perceive that\nhis hands were covered with blood. Thinking that he was wounded, he felt\nhimself all over, and found that his clothes were similarly discoloured.\n\n\u201cThis is odd,\u201d said he to his officer. \u201cI am not wounded, and yet look\nat the state of my hands and my uniform!\u201d\n\nThe officer seized a lantern, and hastened to retraverse the rounds of\nthe palace. On arriving at the door of Murad\u2019s apartment, he paused in\nalarm, for he perceived a slender stream of blood, which took its rise\nwithin the chamber. He rushed off in haste to inform the commandant in\ncharge for the night.\n\n[Illustration: 055]\n\nThe commandant, terrified at the news, flew to inform the governor\nof the palace of the discovery. He, in turn, hurried off to the lord\nchamberlain, who, dreading the responsibility of waking the sultan,\nwent, at the top of his speed, to find the prime minister. The prime\nminister ran, out of breath, to break the alarming intelligence to his\nmaster.\n\nMarsillus dressed in a twinkling.\n\nPale and trembling, with his eyes but half open, and his clothes huddled\non anyhow, he hastened to the sultana. She, not expecting such a visit,\nand never having seen her lord in such trim before, gave a loud shriek,\nat which her fifty attendants rushed in in alarm. On hearing the\nnews Marsillus had to impart, the lovely Hadrama and ten of her\nladies-in-waiting fainted away.\n\n\u201cBy the beard of the Prophet!\u201d said the sultan, impatiently, \u201cthis is no\ntime for such monkey tricks! We have not a moment to lose. That one of\nyou that is last to recover her senses shall receive fifty strokes of\nthe bastinado.\u201d\n\nIn an instant all were on their feet, and prepared to depart.\nThe sultan, the sultana, the prime minister, the chamberlain,\nthe commandant, the officer of the guard, the sentry, the fifty\nladies-in-waiting, the fifty life guards, and the eunuchs, set forward,\npreceded by twenty black slaves bearing torches. The procession arrived\nat Murad\u2019s apartment; the door was burst open; his majesty perceived who\nwas the victim, and breathed more freely.\n\n\u201cReally,\u201d said the fair Hadrama, \u201cthis tutor has given us a most\nunnecessary alarm.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis is your stupidity, vizier!\u201d said the king, frowning. \u201cHow dare you\ndisturb us for a trifle like this?\u201d\n\n\u201cSire, it was your lord chamberlain who roused me, and stated that the\nprince was murdered. If I had for a moment supposed----\u201d but at this the\nchamberlain, seeing himself in danger of losing the royal favour,\nthrew the blame on the governor, who turned upon the commandant. The\ncommandant passed on the charge to the officer of the guard; and he,\nbeing a man of action, promptly ordered a hundred blows of the bamboo to\nbe administered to the soldier who was the prime origin of the mishap.\n\nThe procession, reassured, was about to resume its progress, when the\nqueen suddenly uttered a piercing shriek.\n\n[Illustration: 056]\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the matter now?\u201d said Marsillus, giving a start, which was\nrepeated by all around him.\n\n\u201cDo you not see that the room is empty? They have killed my child. There\nis no doubt about it: I was dreaming of a cat when you woke me! My child\nis dead!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen,\u201d said the chamberlain, \u201cthe tutor must have killed him.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou don\u2019t know what you\u2019re talking about,\u201d said Marsillus; \u201cand as for\nyou, madam, you\u2019re a fool. Retire to your apartments. And do you take\nnotice, governor of the palace, that if my son is not found by sunrise,\nyou will be honoured by immediate impalement. Go!--I rely upon your zeal\nand activity!\u201d\n\nMarsillus retired to bed again, flung himself on his pillow, and slept\ntill nine, which was a thing he never did before. On waking, he saw the\ngovernor of the palace seated motionless at the foot of his couch.\n\n\u201cOh, there you are! You bring good news?\u201d\n\n\u201cSire, the young prince is found!\u201d\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d said the sultan to the fair Hadrama, who had just come in, \u201cyou\nsee you were too ready to alarm yourself.\u201d\n\nThe sultana only answered by wiping away a tear.\n\n\u201cAnd pray where did you find Murad?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the olive-grove which borders the royal park.\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, ho! so my young eaglet is trying his wings. What was he doing?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe prince was taking a nap, surrounded by a lioness and three young\nlions.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is impossible, governor. I know you too well: you would never have\ngone to look for him _there!_\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, the lioness was dead, and so were two of the cubs. The third,\nfailing to obtain any other nutriment from its dam, was breakfasting off\nher.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd pray who had done all this slaughter?\u201d\n\n\u201cI!\u201d said Murad, who entered, pale and gory, followed by two slaves\ndragging the young lion along in chains.\n\nMarsillus rose, ran to his son, clasped him in his arms, and covered him\nwith caresses.\n\nHis son did not return them, for he had fainted, overcome with pain and\nloss of blood. I need hardly say he was tended as became the son of a\nking, and the slayer of lions.\n\n[Illustration: 057]\n\nA few days after, the prime minister submitted a report to the sultan,\nproving in the clearest manner that the prince\u2019s tutor had committed\nsuicide. Marsillus smiled.\n\n\u201cWell done, vizier! I see how to reward you: you shall take the place\nleft vacant by my son\u2019s tutor.\u201d\n\nMurad grew up. He and the young lion were never separated. They were\nseen together everywhere--even on the field of battle, and thus it\nwas that in course of time they made their appearance in the lists at\nFronsac.\n\nNow that you have, made the acquaintance of Murad Henakyeh\nMeimoumovassi, we will return to Charlemagne.\n\n[Illustration: 058]\n\n[Illustration: 059]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. A FORMIDABLE FRIEND.\n\nWHEN the Saracens had entered the lists they formed in a semi circle,\nand the two ambassadors rode forward.\n\nMurad was spokesman.\n\n\u201cI come to thee Charles, King of the French, on the part of my father,\nMarsillus, King of Portugal, Valentia, Leon, and Castile. My name\nis Murad Henakyeh Meimoumovassi; that of my companion in arms is\nAngoulaffre. He is governor of Jerusalem, and direct lineal descendant\nof Goliath. We come to challenge to combat _\u00e0 l\u2019outrance_ your peers and\nbarons, for whom, we here declare to you, we care no more than for the\npip of a pomegranate. We will compel those who hear us to reverence the\nname of Allah and his prophet Mahomet. We offer combat singly against\ntwenty, thirty, forty, on foot or on horseback, armed or unarmed,\naccepting in anticipation all the conditions which you or your knights\nmay choose to make. If you decline the meeting, we here proclaim our\nintention of holding you up to the scorn and derision of all quarters of\nthe globe, regarding as felons and cowards those who refuse to measure\ntheir strength with us. In support whereof, there lies my glove!\u201d\n\nMurad flung his gauntlet into the midst of the lists, and Angoulaffre\ndid the same. A low murmur ran round the assembled multitude, but\nCharlemagne silenced it with a motion of his hand, and spoke as\nfollows:--\n\n\u201cI thank King Marsillus of Saragossa for the honour he has done us in\nsending his son among us. But his son is a young man, and his words\nare the words of youth. He appears to be ignorant of our history, our\ntastes, and our customs. Nothing delights us more than to do battle in\na righteous cause, and it was not therefore necessary to accompany with\nthreats an offer which would be well received on its own merits, and\nwhich, too, would have lost nothing by being conveyed in courteous\nterms. We accept your challenge, glad to fight for the love of Heaven\nand the Trinity, and to the confusion of Mahomet. None of us, it is\ntrue, is accompanied by wild beasts as a guard, but we have all hunted\nlarge game--the bear, or the huge-horned buffalo, so that we do not fear\nthe cautious master or his attendant. Neither is any one of us descended\nfrom Goliath, or any other misbegotten child of the Evil One; but we all\nknow how to show ourselves worthy of the divinely-favoured David. What\nbrave and good men, animated by the love of God and their country, can\naccomplish, we will do, relying on Him who disposes the victory.\u201d\n\nThe escort of Charlemagne on this uttered loud shouts of approval, which\nwere answered by the Saracens with cries in honour of Mahomet.\n\nCharlemagne appointed his uncle Bernard, and Maynes, Duke of Bavaria,\nmarshals of the list, to arrange the conditions of battle. Murad\nselected Priamus, King of Persia, and Garlan the Bearded, alcalde of\nValentia. While this was going on, Murad\u2019s lion, who was called Oghris,\nwhich is, in the Saracen tongue, \u201cThroat of Brass,\u201d had ceased to roar;\nand, marvellous to relate, his eyes, usually filled with fire, had\nbecome as gentle as those of a lamb. Everything about him grew mild. He\ngazed as if fascinated at Aude, who, ignorant of the charm her beauty\nhad wrought, was talking with Roland. The lion approached her softly,\nnever taking his eyes off her, and growing ever more submissive as he\ncame near her.\n\nEvery one was so pre-occupied that the monster had reached almost to the\nspot where Aude was standing before any one noticed him. But the horses\nshied as he came near, and began to tremble so violently, that the\njingling of their accoutrements attracted the attention of Charlemagne\nand his suite. Their eyes fell on the lion, but he, lost in\ncontemplation, continued to advance, more submissively than ever. The\nknights, perceiving his object, drew their swords and shouted at\nhim, but he continued to advance without regarding them. Murad, in\nastonishment, called to his lion; three times did he utter the call\nwhich always brought the animal to his feet, but the lion continued to\nadvance without paying any attention to his voice. Murad, pale with fury\nand disappointment, sprang on him, and struck him with the flat of his\nsword, but the lion continued to advance without turning his head.\n\nAude, who was surprised;--Aude, who only did not tremble because she\nhad Roland and Oliver at her side;--Aude, who took pity on the poor\nfascinated monster that came towards her, docile and trembling, had the\ncourage to dismount and approach the lion. When he saw her near him how\ngreat was his delight! You would have vowed that in order to reassure\nher and make her forget his power he made himself as small as possible.\nWhen she came up to him he lay down and licked her feet. Aude bent down\nand ran her fingers through his mane. The great brute licked her hand\ntremblingly. Then the fair one took her scarf and bound it round the\nneck of Oghris, who, rising gently on his feet for fear of alarming her,\nallowed her to lead him in a string.\n\nGreat was the astonishment of the spectators; but the most astounded of\nall was Murad. He did not pride himself particularly on gallantry and\ngood manners, so, dismounting from his horse, he seized the lion by the\nmane, and, without taking the least notice of the slight bunds by Avhich\nAude the Fair held the lion, strove to drag him with him. But the lion,\nfurious, showing his teeth angrily, began to roar in such sort that a\nterrible confusion ensued.\n\nThe horses reared, unseating knights even who were usually firmest in\ntheir saddles. The spectators, on hearing it, took to flight in every\ndirection, and for two leagues round the startled peasantry looked with\nastonishment at the clear sky, convinced that the sound was that of\nthunder.\n\nAfter a time the uproar subsided, and they beheld with horror Murad\nextended on the ground. They did not, however, so much recognise him as\nguess that he was represented by fragments of flesh and broken steel,\nand a few fluttering rags of cloth--all that remained of the son of\nMarsillus.\n\n[Illustration: 061]\n\n[Illustration: 063]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. WHEREIN THE GOVERNOR OF JERUSALEM BEGINS TO SHOW HIS\nTEETH.\n\nANGOULAFFRE, who up to this had remained unmoved, now began to choke\nwith rage. He rushed at the lion, who had again laid himself at the feet\nof the mistress of his choice, and, catching it up by the ear, as one\nwould serve a rabbit, began to twist its neck. On this Oliver stepped\nforward.\n\n\u201cWhat ransom do you set on the lion? It is a pet that my sister has\ntaken a fancy to, and I should like to present it to her. Will you take\na ransom in gold or precious stones?\u201d\n\n\u201cIn the land I govern, on the shores of the Red Sea, I have a palace of\nturquoise, built upon pillars of crystal. It is so vast that the best\nwalker cannot make the circuit of it between sunrise and sunset. There a\nhundred silver towers rise into the air; on each is a choir of singers,\nor a band of musicians. In the centre is a gigantic dome of embossed\ngold, surmounted by a diamond so huge and so bright, that even at night\nit can be seen thirty leagues off at sea. It is called \u2018The Diamond\nBeacon of Safety,\u2019 because it guides our sailors as surely as the north\nstar.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have,\u201d said Oliver, \u201ca sword called Glorious. Galas, Munifican, and\nAnsias laboured at its forging two years each. You are aware that they\nmade nine other swords--three each. Ansias made Baptism, Florence, and\nGraban for Strong-i\u2019-th\u2019-Arm; Munifican made Durandal for Roland, and\nSauvagine and Courtain for Ogier the Dane; and Galas made Flamberge and\nJoyeuse for Charlemagne, and Hauteclair, the third, for Closamont. When\nthe ten swords were made, the three brothers summoned a giant, and bade\nhim smite with Glorious against the edges of the nine others.\nGlorious came out of the trial triumphant, and hacked each of the other\nblades about a foot from the pommel. Give me the lion, and Glorious is\nyours!\u201d\n\nAngoulaffre smiled, showing his double row of teeth, yellow as brass,\nand sharp as pikes.\n\n\u201cWhat could I do with your arms? Look at me, and tell me if I need them.\nSee these nails!--they pierce deeper into wrought steel than your weapon\ncan into flesh. Behold these teeth! what engine of war is so powerful?\nWith them I can with one gnash divide a knight in half at the waist.\nLook at these hands!--they can snap off an oak as you would pick a\nviolet. Regard these arms, and tremble! With these, one day, while out\nhunting with the King of Persia, I strangled an elephant. Observe these\nfeet, and dread to come near them! In Nubia a mad rhinoceros dared to\nattack me; he struck me in the calf; the horn broke off, and remained in\nthe wound, while I trampled the huge beast to death under my feet. What\nuse would your weapon be to me?\u201d\n\n\u201cNevertheless, I must have that lion; and, since you will not accept any\nransom for it, let it be the prize of our combat.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd do you suppose you can encounter me alone?\u201d asked Angoulaffre,\ngrinning so horribly that the lion thought his last hour was come.\n\n\u201cDoes it want more than one to kill a dog?\u201d\n\nThe giant, furious, let go the lion, which hurried off, crouching behind\nAude for shelter, like a chastised cur.\n\n\u201cWell! I am in good humour to-day,\u201d said Angoulaffre. \u201cYou see I am\ndisposed to smile. Be thankful for it. I shall be happy to show you how\nthe dogs of my country bite.\u201d\n\nDuring this discussion the spectators, whose curiosity overcame their\nfears, had resumed their places. The knights, by the aid of their\nsquires, had remounted their horses, and the mangled remains of Murad\nhad disappeared. Charlemagne, reaching the royal seats, gave the signal\nfor the commencement of the tourney.\n\nThe trumpets again resounded, mingling their music with the discordant\nnotes of the Saracen instruments. The heralds scoured the lists,\narranging all in their places. Then Angoulaffre approached Charlemagne.\n\n[Illustration: 065]\n\n\u201cAre you, then, he whom they call the king? What sort of people are\nthese French, who are satisfied with such a sovereign? Is it an emperor\nI see before me, dressed in silk like a woman? You call us dogs,\naccursed Christians, and you dwell in burrows, as if you knew you shamed\nthe sun, that deigns to touch you with a few unimportant beams. In my\nland the king is king not only by birth. If he were disguised amid\na multitude, you would say, on beholding him, \u201cThis is the king!\u201d He\nclothes his limbs in steel, and would blush to be seen in soft attire\nwhen his faithful knights are going to do battle. Coward and effeminate!\nYou have allowed a hero, the son of a king, to be slain before your eyes\nwithout attempting to rescue him. You have had more regard for yourself\nand your knights than for your guest; and indeed you, all of you, have\nreason to rejoice at his fall. Mahomet has summoned him to his presence,\nashamed to see that there were two of us to defend his name against\nsuch wretched adversaries. I alone am sufficient for such a task.\nSend, therefore, your peers and knights against me, either in a body or\nsingly; and if they dare undertake the adventure, believe me, you had\nbetter give each a farewell embrace before you part.\u201d Then pointing to\nOliver, Angoulaffre continued--\u201cThis pigmy here has dared to challenge\nme. Give him a guard worthy, if possible, of my attention, and I consent\nto waste a few seconds upon him!\u201d\n\nCharlemagne was not accustomed to hear such language. His blood boiled\nwith rage, and, coursing wildly through his veins, made him at one\nmoment red as fire and the next pale as death. It must be held a final\nproof that a man cannot expire of rage that Charlemagne continued to\nlive. His nobles were not a whit less moved than he. As for Angoulaffre,\nhe continued to smile savagely.\n\n\u201cIt is by sword-stroke and lance-thrust that such words are answered,\u201d\n said Charles, \u201cand you will receive a hundred blows for every syllable\nyou have dared utter.\u201d\n\n\u201cIll-said, paltry kingling!\u201d replied the giant. \u201c_Our_ warriors never\nneed two blows at a foeman.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough of parley, sir,\u201d said Roland. \u201cDo you not see how you are\ndelaying us?\u201d and then he added, aside, to Oliver, \u201cMy brother and dear\nfriend, you admire, I know, my castle on the banks of the Seine. Take\nit, and let _me_ fight him first.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said Oliver, \u201cnot for the crown would I resign this chance of\nearning my passport to heaven.\u201d\n\n\u201cTake my horse, and give me up your place,\u201d said Ogirr the Dane. \u201cYou\nknow that Tachebrune is a horse without peer.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are mad to persist in asking me. You do me a wrong. Neither of you\nwould do what you ask of me.\u201d\n\nAnd saying this, Oliver, having kissed the king\u2019s hand, assumed his\narms, and ran to take his post at the extremity of the lists, opposite\nto Angoulaffre, who continued to grin horribly.\n\n[Illustration: 067]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. WHEREIN THE EAGLE STOOPS, THE RAVEN CROAKS, THE WOLF HOWLS,\nAND THE LION ROARS.\n\nLARGE tears coursed down the cheeks of Charlemagne, as he gazed sadly\non his nobles and knights, and asked himself if Heaven would permit such\nheroes to fall ingloriously by the hand of a miscreant.\n\n[Illustration: 068]\n\nOliver crossed himself, and rode at the giant. All trembled; Oliver\nalone trembled not.\n\nIt is hardly necessary to say that the usual conditions of this class\nof duel were, perforce, somewhat modified on this occasion, for they\nforbade any blows except at the body, and permitted only cuts, not\nthrusts. As Angoulaffre was six times the height of Oliver, it was\nimpossible they could be strictly adhered to.\n\nThe two combatants rushed at each other, and quickly disappeared in a\ncloud of dust. Then came the clash of steel, which sent a chill to all\nhearts. Was Could that be the noise of his fall? No! the dust cleared\naway, and Oliver was seen firmly seated in his saddle at the end of the\nlists, prepared for another course. His lance had broken the buckle of\nAngoulaffre\u2019s sword-belt. The huge weapon, in falling, had made a great\ndent in the soil.\n\nFrantic cries of \u201cHurrah for the brave knight!\u201d rent the air.\n\n\u201cCharge!\u201d\n\nAgain they dashed forward, and disappeared in the storm of dust. This\ntime, too, Oliver escaped unharmed; but the giant, confused by the\nlimited area of the lists, and miscalculating his distance, came down\nfull tilt upon the public gallery, his terrible lance made a deadly\npassage through the crowd, and smashed the timber-work, which fell\nin upon the sitters. In the crash Angoulaffre\u2019s horse lost its\nbreast-piece.\n\nGanelon had never been so delighted. He hated Oliver, whose friendship\nfor Roland was proverbial. \u201cThis evening,\u201d said he to himself, \u201cthese\nboasters will sleep between four planks.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 069]\n\nWolf was as pleased and malicious as Ganelon.\n\nThe Duke of Aquitaine, you must know, had been struck with Aude\u2019s\nbeauty, and had demanded her hand; but Gerard de Vienne had rejected the\noffer with scorn, and Oliver had said, with a laugh, \u201cGo and ask Roland\nfor it.\u201d\n\nWolf and Ganelon were made to understand each other: they did not fail\nto joke together in a whisper while Oliver was doing battle.\n\nNow Charlemagne was never particularly pleased to see people jesting\non such occasions, and he was not slow to perceive their smothered\nlaughter, and grew very angry at it. This sarcastic sniggering enraged\nhim. The words of Angoulaffre still grated in his ears, and he fancied\nthat he was the subject of pleasantry for his vassals. Turning round,\ndelighted at a chance of relieving his anger, he said to Ganelon and\nWolf--\n\n\u201cThe wolf and the crow, Heaven help us! dare to laugh at the eagle! Has\nhe sunk so low that he must submit to this?\u201d\n\n\u201cNay, His Majesty must not misunderstand us thus,\u201d said Wolf. \u201cOur\nrecent submission to his commands should place our loyalty beyond\nsuspicion of that sort.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat, then, is the reason of this unwholesome pleasantry? When the wolf\nis pleased, the shepherd should be on his guard.\u201d\n\n\u201cAn awkward blow of Oliver\u2019s made us laugh,\u201d said Ganelon, scowling at\nthe combatants.\n\n\u201cOho! so that Gallant knight must serve you for a laughing-stock?\nIn truth, you would have done better to laugh at me. Am I no longer\nCharlemagne? Did that miscreant say true? Because a giant dares look\nme in the face, these dwarfs must snap at my heels! One of my bravest\nknights undertakes, out of regard for me, an enterprise, the very\nthought of which is enough to turn one\u2019s head; he is in danger of his\nlife, and people dare laugh at him under my very eyes! You have done\nill, let me tell you; and, since the venture which Oliver undertakes is\nsuch good sport, you shall, both of you, take part in it at once. Now,\nraven!--now, wolf! to your prayers for this hero; for I swear by Heaven\nyou shall take his place in the field!\u201d\n\nThen, leaving Ganelon and Wolf dumb with confusion, Charlemagne resumed\nhis place. Angoulaffre and Oliver, who only awaited the monarch\u2019s\nreturn, ran another course. This time Ferrant d\u2019 Espagne arrived alone\nat the end of the lists. The giant had adopted surer measures.\n\nHe had couched so low in the saddle that his face had touched his\nhorse\u2019s neck. Oliver, taking advantage of this, had thrust his lance\ninto his left eye, whereon Angoulaffre had seized him in his mighty\ngrasp, and had gripped him so hard, that his armour, bent and bruised,\nforced itself into his flesh. Then the giant was seen to rise in his\nsaddle, and hurl the luckless knight to the ground, where he lay without\nstirring, his armour broken, and bathed in blood.\n\n[Illustration: 070]\n\nCries of horror resounded on all sides, but they were speedily drowned\nby the shouts and music of the Saracens.\n\nCharlemagne sat motionless, with his eyes fixed on the body of Oliver.\nHis bravest knights pressed round him, imploring him to send them to\nfight the giant, but he did not hear them.\n\nThey brought a litter; the surgeons entered the lists, and soon the cry\nwas raised, \u201cOliver still breathes!\u201d Then Charles roused himself, and,\nwith tears in his eyes, exclaimed--\n\n\u201cBlessed St. James! I have ever had full faith in you. Save this gallant\nchampion, and I promise you a chapel in the land of the Saracens. It\nshall be so lovely, it shall be the envy of all the calendar.\u201d\n\nThen, turning to Ganelon and Wolf, he said, \u201cNow, as for you, Count of\nMayence, and you, Duke of Aquitaine, if you do not accept the combat, I\nswear by Heaven that to-morrow you shall be degraded from the order of\nknighthood on the very spot where this brave knight has just fallen.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d said Ganelon, \u201c\u2018twill be strange if we do not let you see we\nare of as gallant and noble a lineage as your favourites!\u201d and, followed\nby Wolf, he descended into the lists.\n\n[Illustration: 071]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. ANGOULAFFRE THE MERCIFUL!\n\nWHEN Angoulaffre saw these new adversaries approaching he frowned.\n\n\u201cAha! for what do you take me, and why do you send these brats against\nme? By my faith, Kingling, I do not thank you. If this be a sample of\nyour court it is but a poor one, and it is no wonder you are foremost in\nit. But, in truth, I believe you are but sending me the refuse of your\nknighthood, which you are not sorry to be rid of. You hope thus to tire\nme, and to rid yourself of these small fry of warriors. I shall not\nsatisfy your wishes. I should blush to deal seriously with these puny\ncreatures. By the Prophet, my father would be astonished to see the task\nI have had set me!\u201d\n\nShrugging his shoulders, Angoulaffre took his post at the end of the\nlists. He refused the lance which was brought him by thirty squires.\n\n\u201cIt would be a rare jest if I needed arms to fight these pigmies,\u201d said\nhe, as he rode forward at an easy pace. Ganelon and Wolf charged upon\nhim, lance in rest, but instead of aiming at the giant they aimed at his\nhorse.\n\n\u201cCowards and bunglers!\u201d shouted Angoulaffre. \u201cOh, Charlemagne, I shall\nnot do you the pleasure of ridding you of such knights. I intend to\nspare them, and let them go in peace for your disgrace for ever after.\u201d\n\nSo saying, the giant stooped, and, seizing the two as he had done\nOliver, he looked at them quite unconcernedly.\n\n\u201cFaugh! the wretched Christians! it would be a murder to put them to\ndeath;\u201d and with these words he rode off towards the chapel, still\nholding Ganelon and Wolf in his grasp.\n\n[Illustration: 072]\n\nYou have, of course, my dear readers, not forgotten the chapel of which\nI spoke at the beginning of the story. It was surmounted by a huge iron\ncross. Angoulaffre went up to it, and without injuring his prisoners, he\nhung them by their belts, one on each limb of the cross, like a couple\nof rings on a ringstand.\n\n[Illustration: 073]\n\n\u201cGallant defenders of the cross,\u201d said the colossus, as he rode back to\nhis place in the lists; \u201cbecome its guardians also!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 074]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XI. HOW ANGOULAFFRE HAD AN ATTACK OF TOOTHACHE, WHICH WAS THE\nDEATH OF HIM.\n\nROLAND heard no further. The insolence of the giant had aroused in his\nheart one of those fits of fury which, when coupled with strength and\ncourage like his, nothing can resist. The dishonour done to Ganelon and\nWolf enraged him, for he no longer saw in them either rivals or unworthy\nopponents. They were knights--they were Christians, and he felt a share\nof the insult offered to them.\n\nHe sprang on the back of Veillantif, and dashed into the lists. A murmur\nof applause saluted his entrance. People felt that the real struggle was\nonly now commencing, and that if Roland were vanquished there was no one\nto take his place. The honour of the French name was the stake of this\ncontest.\n\nThree pages ran to pick up the gauntlet which Angoulaffre had flung\ndown in defiance, and dragged it with difficulty into the middle of the\nlists. Roland stooped, picked it up, and flung it in the giant\u2019s face.\n\nOn receiving this insult the Saracen lost his self-possession, and gave\nvent to an oath so terrible that all the assemblage crossed themselves.\nYou will not, therefore, be surprised, my friends, that I do not repeat\nit, although it formed the entire speech of the Governor of Jerusalem.\nHe felt himself in the presence of an enemy worthy of him, and\nunderstood that the time for words was gone by. As an habitual drinker\nlikes wine that is rough, warriors delight in foemen who smite hard.\n\nThis time the giant assumed his lance and his vast shield. The\nspectators had not a drop of blood left in their veins, and many prayers\nwere breathed to Heaven for the success of the Christian knight.\n\nThe signal was given. The combatants dashed forward and encountered\nhalf way. Angoulaffre had stooped down to await Roland, but he, with\nsuperhuman activity, avoided the fearful blow which was aimed at him,\nand struck his adversary on the face with his lance.\n\nThe spear lodged between two of his teeth and broke.\n\nThe greatest courage is often accompanied by little weaknesses.\n\nThe hero who sports with life on the battle-field will often shrink at\nthe sight of a spider. Angoulaffre, now, had a horror of a dentist--as,\nmy young readers, is the case, I conjecture, with most of you.\n\n[Illustration: 075]\n\nA decayed grinder had given him considerable pain for the last six\nweeks. Imagine his rage, then, when he received a tremendous blow from a\nlance on that particular tooth. He ceased to be a man--to be a giant:\nhe was a wild beast, mad with fury. He lost his presence of mind, which\nuntil now had lent him double strength. Flinging aside his arms he flung\nhimself blindly upon his foe.\n\nBut Roland, whom danger never stirred, evaded him craftily, and harassed\nhim. He seemed to be playing with his formidable adversary. A deft\nstroke severed the girths of Angoulaffre\u2019s horse; the saddle turned\nround; the giant lost his balance, and fell to earth amid shouts of\nlaughter from the spectators. Roland approached him, gave him his hand,\nand assisted him to rise. Then he asked him if he required rest.\n\n\u201cI never leave a fight half finished,\u201d said the giant; \u201cbut I am\nthirsty, that is all.\u201d\n\nCharlemagne, hearing these words, ordered his pages to roll a hogs-head\nof Spanish wine into the middle of the lists. Angoulaffre broached it\nwith one blow of his fist, emptied it at one draught, and then, flinging\nthe cask beyond the barriers, remounted his steed.\n\n[Illustration: 076]\n\nThe combatants selected fresh spears, and, having taken their places\non the field, rode at each other once more. This time they smote one\nanother full on the breast. What a terrific crash, my young friends! No\nironclad of our day could have resisted it. Angoulaffre was driven back\non his horse\u2019s crupper; he stuck his knees in so tight, to save himself\nfrom a second fall, that the unhappy animal had all the breath knocked\nout of its body. It was a misery to hear it cough.\n\nRoland had bent beneath the stroke. His back had touched the crupper of\nVeillantif, but the brave knight did not lose his seat. The spear had\nglanced off his excellent armour from girdle to shoulder, and he escaped\nunhurt, though the blood flowed from his mouth.\n\n\u201cI should be loth to kill so brave a knight,\u201d said the Governor of\nJerusalem. \u201cI offer you your life; take it at my hands.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can accept nothing from you but blows,\u201d said Roland, quietly;\n\u201cbecause I feel certain I can give you as good as I take, and perhaps\neven throw in a little over.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs you please,\u201d said Angoulaffre; and once more they resumed the fight.\n\nThe giant flung aside his lance, and took a battle-axe, the sight of\nwhich gave the spectators a fit of cold shivers. Roland also laid aside\nhis spear, and drew Durandal from its sheath.\n\nVeillantif seemed endowed with human intelligence. The brave creature\ndivined the slightest wish of its master. Now it bounded, now it scoured\nthe plain; anon it charged or it reared, and ever it went unhurt through\nthe shower of blows. The horse of the Saracen was not worth half of\nRoland\u2019s. Its size and weight rendered it difficult to manage. For some\nminutes it coughed incessantly, and scarcely obeyed bit or spur. Roland,\nby a clever turn, took the giant in flank, and with one blow of his\ntremendous sword clove in two the horse of his opponent.\n\nAngoulaffre came to earth, seated between the two severed halves of his\nsteed, and bellowing with astonishment and anger.\n\n[Illustration: 077]\n\nThe Saracens had left off laughing now. Their music was silenced. Garlan\nthe Bearded, who commanded them, foamed with rage; he tore out a good\ntenth of his beard by the roots. The Alcalde of Valentia foresaw the\nfate of Angoulaffre, and was asking himself whether he and his men\nshould ever see Spain again.\n\nRoland was loudly cheered; but, without taking any heed of it, he\ndismounted, and, approaching the colossus, who had not yet regained his\nfeet, he said---\n\n\u201cKeep your seat, governor, and while you rest yourself, send some of\nyour warriors to me; there will then be no time lost.\u201d\n\n\u201cMay I be struck by a thousand thunderbolts, if I give you a moment\u2019s\nrespite! Mount, and defend yourself!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am not in the habit of taking any advantage in a combat. Since you\nare dismounted, I will continue the contest on foot.\u201d\n\nDuring this conversation ten horses had drawn from the lists the remains\nof Angoulaffre\u2019s steed.\n\n[Illustration: 078]\n\nThen began a combat yet more terrible than any of its predecessors. The\nmarvel was how Roland escaped the rain of blows aimed at him; but the\nbold knight managed so admirably, that he got close to the monster, and\ncut off his right leg at the knee.\n\nYou will guess, my friends, how sad a figure the Governor of Jerusalem\ncut with such a very ill-assorted pair of legs. He fell, biting the\nground with rage, and rolling to and fro in his attempt to rise, until\nhe wept at his own impotence. Roland approached him.\n\n\u201cYou cannot continue the struggle. Your life is in my power. Accept\nChristian baptism, and I will spare you.\u201d\n\nAngoulaffre, without answering, rolled himself to the place where his\naxe had fallen, seized it, and cut off his left leg at the knee. Then\nraising himself on his stumps, he gazed sternly at Roland, and said,\nsimply--\n\n\u201cI am ready!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 080]\n\nAt the sight of this act of Spartan heroism both Christians and Pagans\napplauded. Charlemagne himself was touched.\n\n\u201cGovernor of Jerusalem,\u201d said he, \u201cdesist from this useless struggle.\nWhat greater proof could you give of your courage? Believe me, when you\nappear again before your king in this guise, and tell him, \u2018It is Roland\nwho has conquered me,\u2019 you will not see him sneer at you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou--you Christians, then--can live after the shame of having been\nvanquished? That, and that only, is beyond our power. Behold, faint\nhearts! You have seen how we can fight; see now how well we know how to\ndie!\u201d\n\nI will not, my dear young friends, relate to you the end of this fearful\nconflict. It was no longer a battle--it was a butchery. Blows followed\none another without pause. Roland was covered with wounds; his armour\nwas hacked away piece by piece, but he did not give ground. He felt his\nstrength failing, and desired at any price to bring the contest to an\nend. Without regarding the almost certain death to which he exposed\nhimself, he closed with his foe, and dealt him a tremendous blow, which\nstretched him at his feet.\n\nThere was one short minute, during which the impressed spectators kept\nsilence. The respect which bravery always commands restrained the burst\nof the general rejoicing; but, these first few seconds past, every one\nfelt himself relieved of an immense peril.\n\nThe sight of Roland, to whom Charlemagne had hastened, was the signal\nfor an outburst of frantic cheering from every side.\n\nThe king embraced his nephew, and said--\n\n\u201cI would reward you for so splendid a victory. What would you have? My\ngratitude is unbounded: let your desire be without limit. Which of my\nprovinces shall I bestow on you?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am yet more ambitious. When I wish to own a province, I will go win\nit with my sword.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat would you have, then?\u201d\n\nAude had just left Oliver, who had no longer need of her care. She felt\nthat the triumph of her lover would not be complete if she did not share\nit.\n\nRoland gazed at her so meaningly, that Charles turned to Gerard de\nVienne, and said--\n\n\u201cHere is an ambitious gallant, who seeks his reward at your hands. What\nsay you, Gerard, and you, Lady Guibourg? Does it not seem to you that\nyour niece will be fortunate in having for a spouse my friend and\nnephew, Roland? I ask her hand of you for him.\u201d\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d said Gerard, \u201cit is doing us too great an honour.\u201d\n\n\u201cAude could not have a nobler husband than Roland, who comes of your\nroyal line, sire,\u201d said the Lady Guibourg.\n\n\u201cI was not rich enough to satisfy this grasping soul,\u201d replied\nCharlemagne, \u201cand I thank you, Gerard, for coming to my help. Ah!\nTurpin, here is work for you. No other is worthy to celebrate such\nnuptials as these. Have ready a splendid sermon for the occasion, for\nthe wedding shall take place on our return to Cologne.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 081]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XII. THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ANGOULAFFRE.\n\nANGULAFFRE was stretched on the ground, surrounded by his companions in\narms when the surgeons came to dress his wounds, he rejected their aid.\n\n\u201cGo to the Evil One, vile concocters of drugs! My soul is not foolish\nenough to dwell in so dilapidated a mansion as that which I have to\noffer now. All your remedies will but drive her away the sooner. Come\nhither, Alcalde of Valentia, Corsablix, Margariz--all of you--come round\nme, that I may die while looking on the faces of friends. Tell to King\nMarsillus the manner of Murad\u2019s death--and mine. Tell him that: with my\nlast breath I called for vengeance on Roland. I bequeath to you a hatred\nso fierce and strong, that it cannot but survive me. I leave all my\nproperty, without exception, for the furtherance of vengeance. If\nbribery can help you, spare nothing: there is no human integrity that\ncould withstand the sight of the wealth you have to offer. Swear to me\nyou will spare no means of hastening the downfall of this accursed one,\nand I shall die more happy.\u201d\n\n\u201cRely upon us,\u201d said Priamus. \u201cWe inherit your hatred; and whether it be\nten years, or whether it be twenty years hence, rely on it, this Roland\nshall perish by our hands!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will hew him into as many pieces as he has given you wounds,\u201d said\nGarlan the Bearded.\n\n[Illustration: 083]\n\n\u201cHis death shall become a tradition,\u201d added Abysm, the favourite\nof Marsillus. \u201cI swear to you, people shall speak of it when the\nrecollection of this petty Charles shall be extinct.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 082]\n\n\u201cYou had better implore the aid and protection of the Prophet in\nyour undertaking, for he who has vanquished me is not to be lightly\novercome,\u201d said Angoulaffre.\n\n\u201cIf we have to unpeople Nubia, Persia, Egypt, the Atlas, the Caucasus,\nScythia, and Spain, to swell our forces,\u201d said Ecremis of Vauterne, \u201cas\nsure as Mahomet is greater than St. Peter, Charles and his knights shall\nperish ere long.\u201d\n\n\u201cBefore a year elapses we will sleep at Cologne,\u201d said another.\n\n\u201cEnough, babblers and boasters!\u201d said Angoulaffre, who felt the chills\nof death approaching; \u201cdo your best to carry back your carcasses whole\nto Spain, and if Mahomet grants you that favour, renew there these\npromises. In the meantime, take care of your precious hides in\nto-morrow\u2019s tourney. Death grasps me by the throat--farewell! Ah, dog of\na Roland!\u201d\n\nThese were the last words of the Governor of Jerusalem.\n\nSixty Saracens, marching in two files, bearing thirty spears between\nthem (a soldier holding each end of a spear), extemporised a litter, on\nwhich the dead body of the giant was placed.\n\nTwo hours before, he had entered the lists, mounted on his steed,\nfollowed by a brilliant suite of kings, emits, and alcaldes, and\npreceded by a band of barbarous music; proud of his strength, relying\non his own bravery, boasting, and threatening. But if Heaven does not\nfavour the cause of the lion, it not unfrequently happens that the Iamb\ngets considerably the better of him.\n\nThe enraged Garlan.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIII. THE TWO ROGUES RELEASED.\n\nTHE whole assembly was so full of other matters, that no one gave a\nthought to Ganelon or Wolf. Pinabel, the nephew of the Count of Mayence,\nwas the first to recollect them. Approaching Charlemagne, he inquired if\nit would not be proper to release the two suspended knights, and if the\nking would entrust the task to him.\n\n\u201cThat concerns Roland,\u201d said the king; \u201che has achieved their\ndeliverance, and therefore they are his property. Go, then, nephew,\nand take down the two heroes, who are cutting so very sorry a figure\nup yonder. You will, of course, think it proper to give them the use of\ntheir wings.\u201d\n\nRoland was talking with Aude, and was not particularly pleased at the\ninterruption. However, he went to the chapel, where he arrived in a very\nbad humour.\n\n\u201cIt is very hard,\u201d said he to Ganelon, \u201cto be put to inconvenience every\nminute for people who are not the least grateful for what one does.\nWhen a man hasn\u2019t the strength to carry out an enterprise, he should not\nattempt it. This is the second time that I have had to release you from\na state of suspense, and for no fault of mine. For Heaven\u2019s sake, in\nfuture don\u2019t put the credit of France in jeopardy lightly. Remember, you\nare not the only Frenchman in the world, and also that I cannot always\nbe close at your heels to repair your blunders.\u201d And, without further\ndelay, he restored the two suspended knights to the ground, and returned\nto the fair Aude.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said Wolf to Ganelon, \u201care you in the humour to digest affronts\nlike those?\u201d\n\n\u201cI fancy, my lord duke, you have had your share of them too, and they\ndon\u2019t seem to disagree with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be only right to chastise him for his insolence.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd pray what hinders you?\u201d said the count, smiling.\n\n\u201cThe same reason that teaches you patience. This Roland is a brute and\na----\u201d\n\nCut here the idlers congregated around the two vanquished knights, and\nmocked at them unsparingly. Not being anxious to supply public amusement\ngratis, they thought fit to retreat, and returned to their tents, where\nthey passed the night in the formation of projects that were far from\nChristian, though they originated in Christian brains.\n\n[Illustration: 085]\n\n[Illustration: 086]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XIV. THE CORSELET OF CAMBRIC.\n\nIT is nine o clock. All is quiet in the camp. The fires have been\nextinguished as a measure of prudence, and only the moon is allowed to\ngleam.\n\nIn the plain, however, a few tumblers displayed their feats by\ntorchlight to a few spectators, but ere long, losing their public, they\nwere fain to pack up their traps and seek repose beneath some forest\ntree. By degrees every noise died away. Hardly a chirrup was heard to\ngive life to a lovely night; still, now and then, one heard from afar\nthe ringing of steel. It was some watch on its rounds. The armour\nglittered a moment in the moonbeams and then disappeared, and that was\nall.\n\nLet us, too, go our rounds, and see what is passing in the camp. We\nwill begin with the Royal tent. If you were not with me, my dear young\npeople, I would defy you to enter it. Never was treasure or sacred\nrelic so carefully guarded. Charles slept in a great bed of state, and\na hundred of his bravest and stoutest men were appointed to guard him.\nForty knights kept watch, changing guard three times a night, according\nto the muster-roll--ten at the head, ten at the foot, and ten on either\nside, each with a drawn sword and a torch.\n\nAude, too, had retired to her pavilion. She could not sleep, however,\nfor thinking of all that had happened during the day--a day that had\nbeen at once hateful and glad: hateful, because it had nearly deprived\nher of her dear Oliver; joyful, because it had decided her marriage with\nRoland--her dear Roland. Her waiting-women surrounded her. Ten Moorish\nmaidens sang to her Spanish ballads, which she preferred to all others,\nbut to-night she heard them not--she was lost in meditation. Four Saxon\ndamsels combed her long tresses, waiting for the signal to dress it for\nthe night, a signal she forgot to give. Eight Lombard girls had made\nready a perfumed bath, but it had been three times prepared already, for\nit grew cold while she was musing. Oghris was not more fortunate. He\nhad gently placed his head in her lap, but she had not bestowed on him\na single glance. He was a guard that made a mockery of the precaution\ntaken to put sentinels at the tent-door.\n\nRoland slept beside Oliver. The two gallant fellows had fallen asleep\nhand in hand. The friends were now virtually brothers.\n\n[Illustration: 087]\n\nMeanwhile Ganelon and Wolf had concocted a murderous undertaking.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t you think Marsillus would give a handsome price for Roland\u2019s\nbody?\u201d\n\n\u201cI believe you,\u201d answered the Duke of Aquitaine; \u201cbut it would be better\nto deliver him up alive, and let the king manage him. It is by craft we\nmust oppose him; as to force, we must not dream of that, for neither you\nnor I could do anything with him in that line.\u201d\n\nLet us take a Stroll now Roland and Oliver reposing, beyond the\ncamp, and see who they are that wander in the skirts of the forest. A\ndelightful couple are whispering together. Mita, the worthy sister of\nAude, whom we remarked at the head of the royal _cort\u00e8ge_, and who was\ncalled \u201cthe little knight of pearls,\u201d Mita was walking along, leaning on\nthe arm of Miton of Rennes, the friend of Roland. They were followed by\na waiting-maid and a page.\n\n\u201cMy sister is fortunate in having for her knight such a man as Roland.\u201d\u2019\n\n\u201cCannot you see how it breaks my heart to hear you speak so? To win your\nfavour must one be the only knight who has no equal in the field?\u201d\n\n\u201cI know my own value, and it seems to me that I deserve to have\nprodigies of valour done to win me. Listen, Sir Miton. You would wed\nme: is it not so? You repeat, over and over again, you would achieve\nmiracles for my sake!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is true.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen I shall seek a proof of this to-morrow. At daybreak you will\nreceive my commands. If you carry out well the enterprise I shall plan\nfor you, I will be yours--yours devotedly. If you attempt it, but do not\nsucceed, I shall be your friend as heretofore, but nothing beyond. If\nyou draw back, never speak to me again, for I should speak to you as to\na poltroon.\u201d\n\nThey had now reached the camp, where they must part.\n\n\u201cFarewell, Miton; may you succeed to-morrow. I go to pray for your\nsuccess.\u201d\n\nShe reached out a hand, which trembled in that of the knight, and which\nhe kissed respectfully. Miton returned to his tent, but did not close\nhis eyes all night. Every time a footstep passed near his tent he rushed\nto the door, expecting to receive the message from Mila. At early dawn\nan attendant came with a packet, which she gave to him, and said--\n\n\u201cMy mistress sends me to you to communicate her wishes. \u2018Go seek Sir\nMiton,\u2019 she said to me, \u2018and bid him rejoice it he be truly desirous of\nproving to me that he is worthy of my love, for I am going to give him\nan opportunity of proving it. Give to him this cambric garment of mine,\nand bid him wear it to-morrow in the fight. If he loves me he will\nconsider it a talisman more potent and more secure than steel, and, full\nof confidence, will present himself at the tournament without any other\narmour except his greaves, his shield, and his helmet. If he does this\nand triumphs, I shall be ready to give him any proof of my love that he\nmay demand. If he does not succeed, he shall none the less have my\nesteem and friendship for having essayed it. If he should fall, I\nwill wear mourning for him and die in a convent. If he refuse, I shall\ndespise him as the falsest and most cowardly of men.\u2019\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 088]\n\nMiton, who had sunk on his knees to receive from the messenger of his\nlove the packet, which he covered with kisses, rose smilingly, and spoke\nthus to the attendant:--\n\n\u201cReturn to her whom you have the honour to serve, and tell her that I\nam happy and proud that she has given me an opportunity of dying for her\npleasure. Without her, life is nothing to me: and this is putting me to\ntoo easy a trial, for I feared she would send me away from her, and that\nwould have been to put me to a slow and lingering death. I feel truly\nblest now, since I can devote to her openly every minute as it passes to\nher service.\u201d\n\nMiton gave all the gold and silver he possessed to the messenger,\ndismissed her, and prepared himself for the battle.\n\nHe put on the garment sent him by Mita, and I assure you he looked very\nwell, and not at all ridiculous, when he was equipped as his lady had\ncommanded.\n\nI ought to tell you, my friends, that our knight was about twenty-three,\nand had a handsome face, framed in long yellow locks. He was second to\nnone in either elegance or strength.\n\nThe cambric corselet which he had assumed, bound round his waist with\na rich girdle, came down to his knees, leaving bare his neck and arms,\nwhich were very white.\n\nThus equipped he visited the Archbishop Turpin, related to him his\nadventure, confessed to him, took the sacrament, and then gave himself\nup to prayer until the hour for entering the lists.\n\n[Illustration: 089]\n\n[Illustration: 090]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XV. MONTJOIE! MONTJOIE! ST. DENIS!\n\nIT was nine o\u2019clock in the morning. The heralds went about everywhere,\nshouting aloud, \u201cLace your helms, brave knights! lace your helms!\u201d\n\nThe combatants got ready for the conflict. They examined for the last\ntime with the greatest care every minute point of their armour, and\nmade sure that their horses were properly equipped and saddled. These\nprecautions taken, they hurried off to the lists; the Saracens by the\nsouthern gate, the Christians by the northern.\n\nCharlemagne took his place in the Royal pavilion, with Himiltrude by\nhis side. Aude placed herself on the throne reserved for the Queen\nof Beauty. Oghris laid himself at her feet, surveying the crowd with\nwondering eyes.\n\nThe benches were crowded. The knights took their places. Trumpet-peal\nand shout rent the air. The Emperor was in his place.\n\nThe heralds next proclaimed silence, read the conditions of the\ntournament, and called on the knights to do their duty, for the honour\nof Heaven, the Emperor, and the ladies. Then they called the two\nleaders, Christian and Saracen, to take command of their forces.\n\nGarlan the Bearded rode forth, and reviewed his men. Miton did the same,\nand advanced into the centre of the lists. His novel style of armour\nattracted some attention.\n\n\u201cWhat is this?\u201d said Charlemagne. \u201cIs Miton out of his senses, or does\nhe come here to seek certain death? Go instantly, and command him to\nquit the lists.\u201d\n\nOgier the Dane darted forward to convey the Royal command, but was\nstopped by Turpin, who had heard Charles\u2019s exclamation.\n\n\u201cPardon me, sire, for thus suspending the execution of an order you have\ngiven; but Miton is performing a vow. Your Majesty would find it vain to\nforbid him the combat. Heaven alone is able to preserve him.\u201d The severe\neye of the bishop met the supplicating looks of Mita, and her eyes\nsought the ground.\n\nAude understood all, and wished to interpose.\n\n\u201cSire, you will not suffer so brave a knight to be slain----\u201d\n\nCharlemagne shook his head sadly. \u201cI know Miton, and nothing will\nprevent him from carrying out his enterprise.\u201d\n\nThen turning towards the suite of the Queen of Beauty, he said--\n\n\u201cI have among you, ladies, a cruel foe, who thus devotes to death one of\nmy bravest knights. Let us say the prayer for the dead on behalf of the\nvictim of this relentless beauty.\u201d\n\nAll rose, and repeated the supplication in a low voice, Turpin leading\nthem. The terrified Mita alone had not the power to rise. She sank on\nher knees, and would have remained there motionless and overcome, had\nnot her sister raised her.\n\nIn the meantime Miton, ignorant of what was passing, and not even\nhearing the shouts of the crowd, or the entreaties of his comrades, who\nbegged him not to devote himself in this way to destruction--\n\nMiton, gay and proud, to think of the trial he was subjected to, had\nmade all his dispositions for the combat.\n\n[Illustration: 091]\n\nThere were a hundred horsemen in the field--fifty on either side.\nTheir leaders drew them up in two lines of twenty-five. It was truly an\nimposing sight--these brave fellows, clad in their glittering arms; in\nfirm and compact lines, planted well in their war-saddles. One might\nhave called them a column of iron. The horses, no less impatient than\ntheir masters, whinnied and pawed the ground.\n\nAt last Charlemagne gave the signal.\n\n\u201cCharge!\u201d shouted the heralds.\n\nScarcely were their voices heard ere the first rank of combatants dashed\nforward. The two parties met halfway with an alarming crash. In vain did\nthe spectators attempt to make out the result of this first onset. They\nwere obliged to wait till the dust had blown off. The heart of Mita beat\nvery fast during those few seconds, but at last she beheld her knight\nhand-to-hand with Garlan the Bearded. One half of the combatants were\nstretched on the earth; some so sorely wounded, that their squires had\nto come, raise them, and drag them out of the _m\u00eal\u00e9e_. Others, however,\ngot up without aid, and went to seek fresh adversaries.\n\nPriamus had his spear broken, but he had kept his seat in the saddle.\nSeeing Girars of Roussillon engaged with Corsablix, a wild chief\nfrom the Atlas, he rushed towards them with uplifted blade. But the\nBurgundian knight perceived his approach, and rapidly dashing at his\nfirst opponent, he seized him by the throat, made him do service as a\nshield against the blows of the King of Persia, and finally flung him, a\nbleeding and mangled corpse, under the feet of the horses. Then, having\nbut one enemy to deal with, he determined to seize Priamus\u2019s horse, and\nmade such good use of his feet, nails, and teeth, that in a twinkling\nhe was in the saddle; while the King of Persia, rolling in the dust,\nyielded up his impious soul through twenty gaping wounds.\n\n\u201cAllah Akbar! Allah is great!\u201d cried the Saracens.\n\n\u201cSt. Denis, Montjoie! Montjoie!\u201d cried the knights; and, lo! the second\nrank flung itself into the conflict.\n\nThe blare of trumpets and Saracen horns, the beating of drums and gongs,\ndrowned the noise of groans and imprecations.\n\nThe dead and dying were once more dragged out. The wounded sought\nshelter as best they could. Forty warriors yet remained to contest the\nfield--twenty-five Saracens and fifteen Franks.\n\nFor a quarter of an hour Miton and Garlan had fought together, with no\nadvantage on either side. With his keen blade the Count of Rennes had\ncleft the casque of the Alcalde of Valentia, and would have split his\nskull open but for the turban, which deadened the blow. Garlan had\nhacked in pieces his adversary\u2019s shield, and the corselet of cambric\nbegan to be marbled with streaks of gore. Miton saw that the ranks of\nhis warriors were thinning, and was anxious to make an end of his foe in\norder to hasten to their aid. He closed with him, knee to knee, foot to\nfoot, and, regardless of the danger to which he exposed himself, seized\nGarlan by the gorget of his coat of mail, dragged him from his horse,\nand then passing him from his right hand to his left, held the point of\nhis sword to his throat, and compelled him to yield to his mercy. Then\nhe sent the miscreant a foot beyond the barriers, and gave his charger\nto Thierry, Duke of Ardennes, who had just been unhorsed.\n\nCha\u2019cha\u00e2n el Da\u2019djah, Emir of Toledo, entertained the presumptuous idea\nof avenging Garlan the Bearded, as if, because he had strangled a few\nlions in the desert, ripped up a few elephants, and cut in pieces a\nmillion or so of enemies, he could pretend to hope for, the conquest of\na French knight. He shouted his war-cry, and darted forward to meet\nthe Count of Rennes, brandishing, as he did so, a huge flail with seven\nchains, the same with which Attila armed himself when fighting the\nlegions of A\u00e9tius. But the blow was delivered in empty air--dragged the\nEmir forward, and made him lose his balance. Miton took advantage of\nthis miss to seize Cha\u2019cha\u00e2n el Da\u2019djah by the leg, and dragged him from\nhis seat with such violence as to break the saddle, entangle him with\nthe harness, and throw the horse down on its side. Then the spectators\nbeheld a strange sight. The Count of Rennes grasped his foeman by the\nankles, rose in his stirrups, and, using the body as a mace, swung it\nround his head, dashed into the thick of the fight, and began laying\nabout right and left at the Saracens with the Emir. Every time this\nnovel arm fell it encountered some weapon of defence, so that before\nlong little was left of it but shreds. After a time the mortal\ninstrument of war lost its weight, and became useless. When Miton flung\nit away it had stretched eight Saracens on the plain.\n\nHe cast his eye over the field. Marganice, Governor of Carthagena, was\nfighting with Roard of Limoges and Itiers of Clermont; Garnaille,\nKing of Ethiopia, confronted Lambert the Short and Humbert, Count of\nBourges; M\u2019kamat Iladdada, Caliph of Mecca, was showing a bold front\nto Riol of Mans, Ho\u00ebl of Nantes, and Bazin of Geneva. Alis, King of\nMorocco, was engaged with Pinabel; while Sangaran, who ruled at the\nsource of the Niger, Baimalanko, chief of the tribes on the borders\nof the Dead Sea--each one of these two blacker than the other--and\nZunizum-Kalakh, King of Garbe, pressed hard on Aimery of Narbonne, who\nwas, however, giving them two blows for one.\n\nMiton flew to his rescue, and in three minutes, and with twenty strokes\nof his sword, had ridded him of his foes. Sangaran and Baimalanko fell\nbefore his arm, and went to rejoin the Evil One whose livery they wore.\n\n\u201cThanks, I owe you a similar service,\u201d said Aimery to the Count of\nRennes. \u201cI shall have finished with this villain in a few seconds. I am\nnot afraid of a single encounter, so leave me and go succour Pinabel,\nwho has scarce blood enough left to keep him alive.\u201d\n\nAnd, in truth, the nephew of Ganelon was fighting in the dark, for\nhe was blinded with his own blood. The King of Morocco, who saw a\nnew foeman coming towards him, determined to abandon the contest with\nPinabel and charge at once on Miton, a manouvre he accomplished so\nrapidly that he took the latter by surprise. For four seconds the\nCount of Rennes was exposed defenceless to the fury of Alis, and this\nunguarded moment cost him a gash which laid open his left arm from\nshoulder to elbow, and marked him with a purple chevron on the wrist.\nMita uttered a shriek as if she had received the blow, and hid her face\nin her hands.\n\n\u201cSee,\u201d said Himiltrude, \u201cwhat interest the little Mita takes in the\ncombat, sire. The wound the Count of Rennes has just received makes her\nheart bleed.\u201d\n\n\u201cKeep your nonsense to yourself, madam,\u201d said the Emperor, who hated to\nbe interfered with at the wrong moment. \u201cWhen men wield the sword,\nwomen should not wag the tongue and he abruptly turned his back on his\nconsort. In point of fact, it was not a well-chosen time for talking.\u201d\n\nAnd now Riol of Mans had, with a dexterous back stroke, sent the head\nof M\u2019kamat Haddada flying, and this new kind of projectile had struck\nMarganice, Governor of Carthagena, in the face, and so confused him that\nhe neglected to parry a furious blow aimed at him by Itiers of Clermont.\nThis really excusable oversight cost him his life. One sharp thrust\npinned him to his horse\u2019s crupper like a butterfly on a cork.\n\n[Illustration: 095]\n\nGarnaille also perceived his end approaching. Lambert the Short gave him\nno respite.\n\n\u201cIt shall never be said,\u201d cried, fiercely, the King of the Ethiopians,\n\u201cthat I received my death-blow from a Christian hand.\u201d Thereupon,\nresting the pommel of his sword on the ground, he flung himself on the\npoint and expired shouting, \u201cAllah!\u201d\n\nAimery of Narbonne, a lad of sixteen, seemed to be playing with his\nopponent.\n\n\u201cDog!\u201d exclaimed Zumzum-Ivalakh, \u201ccannot you fight more steadily?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will give you a lesson in politeness,\u201d said Aimery, still smiling.\n\u201cFirst of all, I don\u2019t approve of people addressing me without baring\ntheir heads.\u201d As he spoke, his sword sent the King of Garbe\u2019s helm\nflying. It was one of the famous casques of the ancient tribes of\nBeni-Ad.\n\n\u201cBravo, Pagan. Are not you afraid of getting sunburnt?\u201d\n\nA blow of the battle-axe, which shivered the Count of Narbonne\u2019s shield,\nwas all the answer vouchsafed by Zumzum-Ivalakh.\n\n\u201cBless me! he\u2019s getting vicious,\u201d said Aimery, without being in the\nleast put out. \u201cWe must teach him to say he\u2019s sorry.\u201d\n\nHis sword whirled in the air and smote off the wrist of the King of\nGarbe, and so brought the combat to a close.\n\nThe King of Morocco alone continued to make resistance. Miton hastened\nto dispatch him, for he felt his strength failing him. However, he would\nreceive aid from no quarter save Heaven. His shield was riven, his left\narm, laid open with a terrible gash, hung powerless by his side, and\nevery blow he dealt his enemy cost him five in return.\n\nMita had no eyes for any but the Count of Rennes. She lived with his\nlife, she suffered for his wounds, and she would have fallen dead had he\nperished. How she blamed her cruel commands, and how she hated the King\nof Morocco! In truth few men\u2019s deaths have been as fervently prayed for\nas his was.\n\nMiton felt a cold sweat seize him; a mournful singing in his ears made\nhim fancy his end was approaching. He struggled against death, and gave\none last blow at his opponent, then fell senseless under his horse\u2019s\nhoofs. That blow was the last the Moorish king received. The sword\npierced his bosom, and the steel remained fast in the wound. He was\nimmediately seized with the death shudder, flung wide his arms, dropped\nhis weapons, and uttered so terrible a cry that his frightened steed ran\naway at full speed straight ahead until he dashed against the walls\nof the lists. His rider rolled in the dust. The King of Morocco was no\nmore.\n\nCharlemagne sprang up beaming with joy.\n\n\u201cOgier,\u201d said he to the King of Denmark, \u201cgo bring me news of Miton, and\ntell him how I prize his valour. I am, moreover, not the only one who\nprizes him here, it appears. Well, little one,\u201d he added, turning to\nMita, \u201cyou have perilous fancies. For this once all has turned out well,\nbut you must promise me not to tempt the devil a second time.\u201d\n\nMita flung herself at the Emperor\u2019s feet, and kissed his hand in\nsilence. Charlemagne smiled.\n\n\u201cCome,\u201d said he, \u201crise, Countess of Rennes.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 096]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XVI. A FUNERAL MARCH.\n\nTHUS ended this brilliant passage of arms. Was I not right, my children,\nwhen I told you that its equal was never seen?\n\nThe wounded Saracens were conveyed to hospital, and I need hardly\nadd, they were as well cared for as if they had been duly-baptised\nChristians.\n\nThe dead were buried; they were sixty-three in number, neither more nor\nless. There were, after this tournament, a great many thrones to let in\nthe East.\n\nThe surgeons declared that the wounded would not be fit to move for a\nmonth at the very least.\n\nCharlemagne loaded the survivors with rich gifts, and then, after\nfour or five days of rejoicing, he prepared to depart, leaving Fronsac\nstrongly garrisoned. He wished to spend Advent Sunday at a town\nanciently called Durie, in the diocese of Julliers, and the Feast of the\nResurrection at the Cathedral of St. Lambert, in Liege.\n\nWhen the Saracens were left alone, they determined, after a long\nconsultation, to inform King Marsillus without delay of the melancholy\nfate of his envoys, and to bear to him the mortal remains of his son.\nNobody, however, cared to be the bearer of such tidings, and one and all\nprofessed to suffer horribly from their wounds. In short, of all that\nbrilliant expedition, there were none left to perform this duty except\nthe band.\n\nThe solemn procession set out for Spain. The drums, covered with\nmourning, preceded the hearse about twenty paces.\n\nThus it was that Murad Henakyeh Meimoumovassi re-entered his father\u2019s\ndominions!\n\n[Illustration: 096]\n\n\nEND OF THE FIRST BOOK,\n\n\n\n\nBOOK THE SECOND -- THE PROPHET\u2019S PARADISE.\n\n\n[Illustration: 099]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. HOW CROQUEMITAINE WAS CHRISTENED.\n\nIN turning over the last page, my young friends, you have grown nine\nyears older. You see time flies quickly when you read my writings. Do\nI ask too much in begging you to make a hasty flight with me, in five\nminutes, from the year 769 to the year 778?\n\nCharlemagne, after having, as I said just now, performed his religious\nduties at Duren and at Liege, returned to Worms at the beginning of the\nyear 770. There Miton and Mita were married, and there, subsequently,\nthe latter gave birth to a lovely little girl, who was called Mitaine--a\nlovely little angel, plump and soft, with large black eyes, and golden\nlocks as bright as the glory of a saint. Charlemagne saw the infant one\nday in its mother\u2019s arms, and believed he beheld a vision.\n\n\u201cSurely,\u201d said the good Emperor, \u201cthis is Our Lady with her holy babe!\u201d\n\nWhen he came nearer, he recognised the Countess of Rennes.\n\n\u201cYou are too blest, Lady Mita. You are favoured of Heaven indeed.\nIt is not possible but that this little angel should bring good fortune\nto all who approach her; and, if she has not already been christened,\nI should like to be one of her sponsors. Would you wish me to be her\ngodfather?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 100]\n\nCharlemagne took one of the child s tiny hands, and kissed it, the\nlittle arm disappearing entirely in the monarch\u2019s bushy beard and\nmoustache.\n\nThen, radiant with joy at this meeting, which he looked upon as a good\nomen, the Emperor hastened to an assembly of the people that he had\nconvened. He was so happy and devoid of anxiety, that he yielded to the\nintercession of his mother, Bertha of the Big Feet, who had long been\ntrying in vain to bring about a reconciliation between him and his\nbrother Carloman.\n\nDuring this same year Himiltrude bore a son, who was charming in face,\nbut, unfortunately, deformed in figure. Charles christened him Pepin,\nbut the people nick-named him Hunchback; and when the populace takes\nupon itself to act as sponsor, the names it gives do not die out.\n\nThis son and heir was not calculated to flatter the Emperor\u2019s dignity.\nHis father did not receive him very favourably, and determined to\ndivorce Himiltrude.\n\nAude and Roland, less fortunate than Miton and Mita, were not yet\nmarried.\n\n\u201cSire, is it not time to celebrate our nuptials?\u201d said the Count ot\nMans one day to Charlemagne. \u201cFor eight months I have been waiting your\npleasure, and I trust you will at last fix a day for the marriage.\u201d\n\nThe Emperor had just had a dispute with his queen about the child, so\nthat he did not just then regard marriage very favourably. He did not\nlisten with a very good grace to his nephew\u2019s entreaty.\n\n\u201cBy my beard, I consider you\u2019re in too great a hurry:--know that!\nYour beard is scarce grown, and yet you want to be at the head of an\nestablishment. That is not what I consider proper. You have to make\na name for yourself before you think of transmitting it to others.\nBesides, a man never fights so well if he has a wife and family; so\ndon\u2019t bother my head any more about it. You are, both of you, young\nenough to wait--wait!\u201d\n\nQueen Bertha, who had no more affection for her daughter-in-law\nthan Charles had for his wife set out for Lombardy to settle a fresh\nalliance, and before long returned with Desiderade, daughter of Didier,\nKing of Lombardy. Himiltrude, I should add, was divorced, despite the\nthreats of the Pope, Stephen the Third.\n\nCharlemagne spent his Christmas this year in Burgundy, and Easter at\nValenciennes, in Hainault.\n\nThe reconciliation of the brothers had never been more than a formal\none; so that when, about the second week in December, 771, Charles heard\nof Carloman\u2019s death at Samoucy, a royal palace in the old diocese of\nLaon, he did not waste any time on tears. He called together a full\ncourt at Valenciennes, announced to his lords the death of his brother,\nand led them into Neustria. He encamped on the royal farms of Carbonac,\nin the midst of the forest of Ardennes. The formidable appearance of the\nforces he commanded induced the nobles and bishops to do fealty to him.\nGerberge, daughter of Didier, and widow of Carloman, endeavoured vainly\nto assert her children\u2019s rights. She was compelled to fly with them\nand a few attendants, and seek refuge at the court of her father.\nCharlemagne was then proclaimed sole ruler of all the realm of the\nFranks.\n\nQueen Bertha\u2019s choice had not proved a very fortunate one. Desiderade,\nsister of the dethroned Queen of Neustria, did not make a very sprightly\nappearance at the Court of France, so Charles determined to get rid of\nher.\n\nRoland, who was ever lamenting the indefinite postponement of his\nmarriage, once more addressed his uncle on the subject.\n\n\u201cYou do not intend, I am sure, sire, to do me a wrong, but you inflict\nmore suffering on me than I can express by thus perpetually adjourning\nmy union with Aude.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 101]\n\nCharlemagne, who had just been having high words with the queen, was not\nfavourably disposed to marriages. He replied, in an ill humour--? \u201cDo\nyou want to drive me crazy, my fine nephew? Marriage is a folly, take\nmy word for it. Resides, I have a fancy to ravage the land of Saxony. I\nhear that in a town they call Eresburg--I don\u2019t know why--they worship\nan idol named Irminsul, and I have set myself the task of burning this\nimpudent divinity. I count on your assistance. On my return we will talk\nabout your marriage.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 102]\n\nRoland went away sadly to find his Aude.\n\nIn the year 771, the Emperor spent Easter at Herstall, and Christmas at\nAttigny. About the beginning of the year 772 he convened his nobles\nat Worms, placed himself at their head, and invaded Saxony. This land,\nsubdivided into numerous petty states, was inhabited by Westphalians,\nOsterlindsi, Sclaves, Hungarians. All these tribes were driven back\nto the Baltic, their idols were destroyed, and their lands devastated.\nCompelled to sue for peace, they came in and did homage 011 the banks of\nthe Weser.\n\nCharlemagne, who was no less terrible to his wives than to his enemies,\ngot rid of Desiderade, his second queen, and determined to marry a\nthird. He was of this mind when Roland once more sought him.\n\n\u201cSire, since you have given me encouragement to hope, I come to remind\nyou that I love Aude, the niece of Gerard of Vienna, your friend, and\nthat you have promised her to me in marriage as a reward for conquering\nAngoulaffre. You desired me to follow you to Saxony, and I did so; no\none can say, surely, that I was sparing of my person in the campaign.\nYou have often spoken severely against marriage, but I understand you\nhave changed your views, since you are, for a third time, going to do\nyourself what you used to say was bad for others. I am your sister\u2019s\nson. I have served you to the best of my ability, and every one agrees\nthat the ability of Roland is no trifle. Will you not please to fix a\nday for my nuptials?\u201d\n\nCharlemagne was in a particularly good humour that day. He burst out\nlaughing at his nephew, and said--\n\n\u201cBy my beard? and sceptre, I believe this youngster is going to set me\nto school. My friend Ganelon was right when he had me beware lest this\nrogue should lead me by the nose. So-ho! my warrior, have I not made you\nCount of Mans and peer of the realm? Have not I granted you the Marches\nof Brittany? And must I now reward you for the blows you have struck in\ndefence of your own precious hide? No, my fine nephew; I don\u2019t approve\nof people who try to force my game. Besides, I have a notion, after my\nmarriage, of making an excursion in the direction of Lombardy. You will\naccompany me. When we come back we will see what is to be done.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 103]\n\nThis year (772) Charles kept the festivals of Easter and Christmas at\nHerstall, on the Meuse. About this period Didier, King of Lombardy,\ninvaded the states of St. Peter. Coming at the head of ten thousand\nstout lances, he laid siege to Rome. Pope Adrian did not lose heart for\na trifle like that. He closed the gates of the Eternal City, carefully\ninspected the walls, and manned them with troops, determined to perish\namid the ruins of his capital rather than surrender.\n\nThen he sent a deputation of bishops and men of distinction to\nCharlemagne, to remind the son of King Pepin that he was a Roman noble,\nand that it was his duty to defend the Church in the person of\nits supreme head. The Emperor was not desperately fond of his\nex-father-in-law, at whose court all his enemies found refuse. He had\nlone meditated an expedition in his direction, and so, accepting with\njoy this providential chance, he convened a full court at Paderborn. The\nexpedition was resolved on enthusiastically, and Geneva was chosen as\nthe rendezvous of the forces. The army was divided into two sections.\nBernard, Charlemagne\u2019s uncle, had command of one column, with orders\nto cross Mount Joux (St. Bernard), and open a campaign in the plains of\nMilan, while the Emperor led his half of the army over Mount Cenis.\n\nIn vain did Adalgisus, son of Didier, attempt to defend the passes of\nthe Alps. He was everywhere repulsed, and was hemmed in at Pavia, where\nhis father joined him (October, 773). Pavia was then a castle, which\nwould well have deserved the reputation of being impregnable if it had\nnot (as is the case with all impregnable places) been taken several\ntimes. Nevertheless, it displayed some coquettishness in the matter,\nnever permitting itself to be captured till after a wearisome war; for\nit required no less than a whole winter to scale its walls, which were\nseventy feet high, to carry its seventeen gates, and make oneself master\nof its sixty-two towers.\n\n[Illustration: 104]\n\nCharlemagne went to Rome to spend the Holy Week. He entered it in\ntriumph on the 2nd of April, 774. A grand procession of bishops and\nnobles went out to meet him at Novi, and accompanied him to St. John at\nthe Lateran, where Adrian waited to receive him. The crowd hailed him\nas a preserver. He was surrounded by banners and crosses; people of\ndistinction vied for the honour of carrying his victorious arms; and\nlittle children, dressed in ancient costume, strewed flowers in his\nhorse\u2019s path. The Pope and the Emperor embraced, and the latter, after\nhaving taken the sacrament, visited, attended by his suite, all the\nsacred spots in the great capital of the Christian world.\n\nA council was called, at which one hundred and fifty-three bishops and\npriests assembled to assist the Pope in conferring on Charlemagne the\nmost extensive powers and privileges.\n\nDuring this time famine was making fearful havoc in Pavia. Every day\npeople died of starvation in hundreds, but the town did not surrender.\nCharlemagne was not one who liked to see work long about. He quitted\nRome and assumed the command of the army, and a few days after Didier\nwas forced to surrender. Neither his courage nor his submission could\nappease the Emperor, and the conquered prince, his head sprinkled with\nashes, had to kneel to his new lord. The last of the Lombard kings\nbecame a monk, and finished his days, under the name of Brother\nDesiderat, in the monastery of Corbie. Ansa, his wife, the two sons of\nCarloman, and Gerberge their mother, with Desiderade, the divorced\nwife of the King of the Franks, all fell into Charles\u2019s hands, and he\ncondemned them to the cloister. Lombardy was thus made the property of\nthe crown of France.\n\n[Illustration: 105]\n\nAude and Mita had retired to Paris, where they awaited mournfully the\nreturn of Roland and Miton. Here the Countess of Rennes gave birth to a\nmarvellously beautiful boy, who was christened Mitis. Never was a baby\nmade so much of. Nothing was good enough for him. The two women, left\nto themselves, formed endless projects, and counted with impatience the\nhours which seemed to pass so slowly. But one day the weeping attendants\nmade their appearance, bearing the dead body of the little cherub. They\nrelated that a knight, with his visor closed, had attacked them and\nsnatched the child from his nurse; that, without regarding their cries\nor supplications, he had made his way at full galop to a neighboring\nstream, where he had dismounted, and, thrusting the child into the\nwater, had held it down with his foot for some minutes. Despite the\nthreats he uttered they came up with him, but too late. The monster,\nhaving lifted the corpse ashore with his foot, remounted his horse and\nfled.\n\n[Illustration: 106]\n\nThe two sisters were for a long time like a couple of mad women. So\nexcessive was the grief of each that one might fairly have asked which\nwas the mother of the murdered babe.\n\nNow it happened that on the day of the murder Ganelon had passed through\nParis on his way to Brittany.\n\nThe Saxons, taking advantage of Charlemagne\u2019s absence, had invaded the\nterritory lying between the Rhine and the Weser. The Emperor, but just\nreturned from Lombardy, sent against them four formidable armies; then,\nhaving held an assembly at Duren, he placed himself at the head of a\nfifth column and crossed the Rhine (775). He made himself master of\nEresburg, and left a garrison there to hold it, and next defeated at\nBrunsberg the masses of Saxons that endeavoured to stop his passage\nof the Weser. He advanced as far as the Oder, cutting the Westphalian\nforces into pieces on his route, and then marched back after having\nreinforced the garrison of Eresburg, which was to serve as a prison for\nhis Saxon captives.\n\nThis year Hildegarde presented Charlemagne with a daughter, who was\nchristened Rotrude. The Emperor was so delighted with her that Roland\nventured to renew his request.\n\n\u201cSire, you bade me share the campaigns in Saxony and Lombardy, and I did\nmy duty to the best of my power. Is it not time----\u201d\n\n\u201cMy dear nephew, spare your eloquence. I see you coming, and begin to\nknow your petition by heart. Well, by St. Nazaire! I will grant you the\nrequest you press so warmly. In one month you shall be wed.\u201d\n\nFive days after they had to mount, and march for Italy again. Rotgause,\nDuke of Friuli, and Adalgisus, son of Didier, had resolved to attack\nRome and Italy by sea and land (776).\n\nCharles once more crossed the Alps, took Rotgause a prisoner, and,\nhaving cut his head off, handed over the government of Friuli to one of\nhis French nobles, the Count Markaire. Then he set out for Worms.\n\nOne day the Emperor was riding at the head of his army, with Roland\nbeside him. They were marching alongside of a splendid corn land. The\nreapers, terrified at the sight of the soldiers, had flung down their\nsickles, and fled; but, their curiosity restoring them their courage to\nsome o o degree, they ventured to watch the column from a safe distance.\n\n\u201cHave you never, sire, envied the lot of these peasants?\u201d asked the\nCount of Mans.\n\nCharles looked at his nephew in wonderment, thinking he was gone mad.\n\n\u201cWhen once their work is over,\u201d continued Roland, \u201cthey return to their\nhomes to find a wife waiting on the threshold to embrace them, and a\nbevy of children who storm them for kisses; while we----\u201d\n\n\u201cI understand you, nephew mine. This is a new way of putting it that you\nare trying, and if I let you have your talk out, it would infallibly\nend in the old question, \u2018When is the marriage to be?\u2019 I am not more\nhard-hearted than most people; and, by the mass! on my return---\u201d\n\nThe Emperor paused. He had just caught sight of a whirlwind of dust a\nlong way off. By degrees the whirlwind lessened to a cloud--the cloud\nturned into a horseman--the horseman proved to be Hugo of Cotentin.\n\n[Illustration: 107]\n\nThe Count Palatine had spurred fast to tell Charles that the Saxons were\nagain in revolt, and were ravaging the banks of the Rhine.\n\nRoland sighed. \u201cAude--dearest Aude!\u201d said he, \u201cshall we never be united\nexcept in Paradise? If I thought so, I would hasten the period, and get\nmyself killed in the very next fight.\u201d\n\nBut I should never finish my story if I were to relate to you all the\nexpeditions of Charlemagne against the Saxons. He was always crossing\nthe Rhine, sweeping away whole nations, receiving their submission, and\ntaking hostages; but scarcely had he turned his back before he heard the\ngrowlings of a fresh eruption. You will learn all this from pages more\nserious than mine. I will only add, that in 777 Charlemagne assembled\nthe Saxons and their rulers at Paderborn, and that a great many came,\nand were baptised.\n\nI must now resume my story.\n\nCharlemagne is at Paderborn, surrounded by his Court. Hildegarde had\nborne him a son, who received the name of Carloman. Aude was more lovely\nthan ever. Miton was now thirty-two, Mita twenty-seven, and Mitaine\neight. Oghris was growing old now. His coat was turning silvery. He now\nrequired a long ten minutes to quarter an ox, but his claws were still\ngood. He had taken a mighty fancy to Mitaine; and often, when they had\ntried to separate them, the lion had grown so thin, and the child so\nmelancholy, that they were compelled to abandon the idea.\n\nThe god-child of Charlemagne had often been made the aim of assassins,\nand, without doubt, the same fate was intended for her that had befallen\nher brother. But Oghris was always at hand, and the murderers had to\ntake to flight. On one occasion, however, one of them had not got off\nquickly enough, and so paid the penalty for the others.\n\n\u201cNow, at last,\u201d said Miton, \u201cI shall understand the meaning of all\nthis!\u201d\n\nUnfortunately, the lion had not thought of this, and his victim was\nreduced to such small fragments that nothing could be discovered from\nthem.\n\n[Illustration: 109]\n\nCharles flew into a great rage on hearing of the attempts to which his\ngod-child had, more than once, nearly fallen a victim.\n\n\u201cBy Joyeuse! he who touches my god-child is a bold man. Tell me,\nMitaine, have you no indication to give me which might put us on the\ntrack of this devourer of babes?\u201d\n\n\u201cNone, my lord; the monster appears and disappears as if by magic.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, be he fay, ogre, or vampire, I swear to Heaven I will deliver him\ninto your hands. But until it is in our power to hang, draw, and quarter\nhim, how shall we distinguish this monster, who wishes to devour you, by\nname?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us call him Croquemitaine!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it. Well, then, Croquemitaine shall be hanged: take my word for\nit.\u201d\n\nIn the year 777 Charlemagne celebrated Easter at Nim\u00e8gue.\n\n[Illustration: 110]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. THE KING OF BEAUTY,\n\nONE chronicle which I have discovered, and which is only known to me,\nassures us that Charlemagne was devotedly fond of children. It was his\npleasure one day to call a couple of hundred of them together, in his\nroyalty of Paderborn, and say to them--\n\n\u201cYou are the masters here, and my servants are at your disposal. Make\nhay of all the flowers in my gardens, and my gardeners shall assist you.\nPlan a dinner tremendous enough to kill my friend Guy of Burgundy with\nindigestion, and my cooks are under your orders. Ransack my illuminated\nbooks; and if by chance you tear them, Eginhard will restore them so\nthat it can\u2019t be detected. Break the silver strings of the queen\u2019s harp,\nand they shall be replaced before she suspects mischief. Command, bully,\npillage, if you like, to your hearts\u2019 content. There is but one thing\nI forbid\u201d--and Charles, knitting his great brows, spoke in a voice\nof thunder--\u201cone thing I forbid, do you hear? I forbid you to put\nyourselves out of the way in the slightest degree.\u201d\n\nThis speech was calculated to raise the wildest enthusiasm. In a moment\nthe palace was ravaged. Mad with liberty, the little folks rushed hither\nand thither, pillaging everywhere at random, and to no purpose, like\nsilly butterflies. The happiness of being free to do what they pleased\nwas enough.\n\nIt was indeed a deafening tumult, an unequalled outburst of jollity.\nThey tore down the hangings; they broke open the aviaries; they\nsmashed the statues; they ransacked the sideboards; they tore up the\nflowers--until, at last, by degrees, their impetuosity wore itself\nout. At the end of an hour the children, left to themselves, and\nhaving nothing more to destroy, could not invent any means of amusing\nthemselves.\n\nWhen the Emperor returned he found his little visitors scattered\nthroughout the palace, tired, idle, and melancholy. Charles called them\nall round him, and inquired if they, were all enjoying themselves.\nThe children hung down their heads without answering. He repeated the\nquestion with the same result. At last Mitaine, more confident than the\nrest, opened her mouth--\n\n\u201cGod-papa--not to keep anything from you--we don\u2019t know what to do, and\nwere never so bored in all our lives.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy children,\u201d answered Charlemagne, \u201clet this be a timely lesson to\nyou. In pleasure, as in war, everything goes wrong without a clever\ncommander. To play well, just as to fight well, you need a captain.\nChoose some one who shall be general of your games; and, by my beard!\nyou will see that all will go well.\u201d\n\n\u201cBeloved sire!\u201d said the children, trooping round him, \u201cchoose our\ngeneral for us.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will,\u201d said Charles; \u201cbut you must at least promise me to obey him\nwhom I select.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will! we will!\u201d\n\nCharles perceived a fair boy of twelve in the crowd; and, taking him\ngently by the ear, he led him out, and presented him to his small\nsubjects.\n\n\u201cHere is the little king I offer you. Obey him as you would me; and as\nfor you, Joel the Fair, will you take my advice?\u201d\n\n\u201cI permit you to offer it, cousin,\u201d said the youngster, drawing himself\nup grandly.\n\n\u201cThen, sire, since you deign to listen to me, accept this hint. Would\nyou rule without discomfort, sleep without fearing some evil dream, and\nlive at ease?\u201d\n\n\u201cThat would suit me nicely!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, Joel the Fair, make yourself beloved!\u201d\n\n\u201cWe will take care to do so,\u201d said the boy, and immediately gave one\nof his subjects a rare buffet for leaning too familiarly on his royal\nshoulder.\n\nCharlemagne withdrew to rejoin Eginhard, Theodulph, Leidrade, and\nAlcuin, with whom he had shut himself up to work at his code of laws.\n\nBut he had hardly been in his closet half an hour when a great hubbub\nwas heard under the windows; shouts, laughter, and cries were mingled\ntogether, and soon rose to such a pitch that the Emperor rose, curious\nto see what was the cause of the tumult, and went to the window.\n\nI can assure you, young people, that he was not a little astonished to\nsee Mitaine fighting with a big boy, whom she had just thrown down and\nwas kneeling upon.\n\n\u201cSo, Master Joel, you have a strange way of ruling,\u201d said Charles,\nopening the window. \u201cIs this the way in which you ensure the peace of\nyour dominions? What is the meaning of this?\u201d\n\nThe tumult ceased. Mitaine released her victim, and Joel advanced and\naddressed Charles.\n\n\u201cI must remind you, sire, that you promised us uninterrupted liberty,\nand I have therefore some right to feel astonished when you interfere\nwith my kingdom. What would your Majesty say if the King of Saragossa\nor of Persia were to question you about your doings in your own realm?\nHowever, I have not forgotten that it is to you I owe my crown, and as\nI am a gallant prince, I will consent to answer your questions. We had\ndetermined to hold a tournament, and in order that it might be done in\na manner becoming my state, I first chose myself a court. It is\ncomposed of those whom you see yonder, half-inclined to quarrel over\nthe scrag-end of a pie. I armed my knights--those are they on the lawn\nyonder, where they are now holding gallant encounters, which will prove\nto you I have chosen well. I improvised arms as I had invented knights.\nThe ladies chose their gallants. Mitaine was unanimously elected Queen\nof Beauty, and she selected for her knight that big boy to whom she has\njust been giving such thumps. The trumpets sounded, and I took my place\non the throne with a majesty that could not have failed to please you.\nThe jousts commenced, and all went well enough. Riolet received a blow\non the eye from Chariot, which lends quite a martial air to his visage;\nLoys has had two teeth knocked out; and Ode has left two handfuls of\nhair on the field.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 112]\n\n\u201cWe did not expect it to stop here when Berart, the chosen cavalier of\nMitaine, entered the lists. He presented himself proudly, and arrogantly\ndefied Odille, who, without disturbing himself, gave him a kick on the\nshin, so dexterously applied that the unhappy youth lost heart and ran\naway. At this sight Mitaine was transported with anger, and jumping\nquickly down from her throne, she rolled the astonished and terrified\nBerart in the dust; and then, turning on his opponent, upbraided him for\nhis cowardice--in short, you can see what has befallen poor Odille. For\nmy part, I abstained from placing any obstacle in the way of Mitaine\u2019s\ntriumph. She was hitherto our queen by virtue of her rank and beauty:\nnow she has won the title by her courage also.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 113]\n\nCharlemagne laughed for seven minutes without stopping--so says the\nhistorian--as he had never laughed before. Then he called his god-child\nto him.\n\n[Illustration: 114]\n\n\u201cBy my sceptre! this is the conduct of a heroine, and you shall be well\nrewarded. It seems to me that a triumphant march would be about\nthe right thing at this period. What thinks our brother Joel of the\nproposal?\u201d\n\n\u201cExcellently said, sire. Let there be a march of triumph.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s only one thing that puzzles me. If we crown Mitaine for her\nvalour, we shall have no Queen of Beauty.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my beard, sire,\u201d said little Joel, stroking his smooth, twelve-year\nold chin, and aping Charles to the best of his ability--\u201cby my beard,\nsire, you are puzzled about trifles.\u201d Then he went in search of his\nfriend Riolet, whose eye was getting blacker every minute.\n\n\u201cWhat do you say to a King of Beauty like that? It is but right that\nboth sexes should have their part in the triumph as usual.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat a philosopher he is!\u201d said Charles, laughing till the tears ran\ndown his face. \u201cLet Oghris be brought--he is the only animal worthy\nto carry my courageous god-child. And you, rival and discomfited\nknights--it is to you, Berart, and you too, Odille, that I am\nspeaking--go, conduct your conqueror in triumph. But now, what are we to\ndo with the King of Beauty, brother?\u201d\n\nJoel, without answering, called on four knights to volunteer, and placed\nRiolet on their shoulders, the pain and confusion making him pull some\nvery strange grimaces. In this fashion the procession set out amid loud\nlaughter and cheering.\n\nIn the evening Charles took Miton aside with him, and said, \u201cLearn, my\nfriend, that our Mitaine is not intended to wear a petticoat for long.\nA sword will suit her hand better than a needle. The secret attacks from\nwhich, thank Heaven, she has till now escaped unhurt may be renewed, and\nI would fain have her under my own guardianship. I have an offer to make\nto you, Count of Rennes. Give her to me for a page, and I will have her\nbrought up to the use of arms. I am greatly mistaken if I do not thus\nrear a staunch supporter of my son.\u201d\n\nThe offer was accepted, and from the next day Mitaine, to her delight,\ntook rank with the pages, whose male attire she adopted.\n\n[Illustration: 115]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. HOW THE EMPEROR CHARLEMAGNE SAW A VISION.\n\nCHARLEMAGNE only took repose in order to give others an opportunity of\nresting. The chronicles tell us that he used to break off his slumbers\nfour or five times during the night, rise, dress himself, and dispatch\nsome matters of business. At Paderborn he occupied a chamber on the\nground floor, and was often seized with the inclination to go down into\nthe park, where, being alone with his thoughts, he used to allow himself\nto become lost in reverie.\n\nOne beautiful night in the spring he perceived in the heavens what\nseemed like an immense causeway, paved with stars, which commenced\nabove the Gulf of Friesland and disappeared about the Galician frontier,\npassing over Germany, Aquitaine, Gascony, and Navarre.\n\n[Illustration: 117]\n\nLittle by little there seemed to him to glitter an unusual number of\nluminaries; they increased in size, changed their forms, and began to\nmove all in the same direction from the northeast to the south-west,\nand presently he beheld, moving across the heavens, crowds of armed\nwarriors. He had mistaken for stars the glint of the moon upon their\narmour. For a whole hour troop succeeded troop; the horses, excited to\na mad ardour, galloped among the clouds, raising a dust of star-sparkles\nwith their hoofs. Then all became motionless as at first. The night grew\ndark and silent, and Charles, lost in reflection, turned his eyes to\nearth. The sight he saw froze for some seconds the blood in his veins.\nIt appeared like a moving light, which had assumed a human shape--a\nlingering sunbank forgotten by the twilight, and animated by some\nsupernatural power. It advanced slowly, its outline showing clearly\nagainst the darkness of the park. At last the Emperor could distinguish\na form more beautiful than is granted to the mortal inhabitants of the\nglobe. The figure spoke, and the air became laden with odours. Its\nvoice hushed the songs of the nightingales, who perched on the boughs to\nlisten.\n\n\u201cMy son, why have you forgotten me?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy lord, who are you?\u201d inquired Charles.\n\n\u201cI am St. James, the apostle, the brother of St. John the Evangelist.\u201d\n\nThe Emperor fell on his knees.\n\n\u201cYou called upon me at the tournament of Fronsac, and promised me a\nchapel in exchange for Oliver\u2019s life, and I heard you. Oliver lives, and\nnine years have passed and still my bones lie in Galicia, forgotten by\nChristians and given up to Saracens. You have led your legions to the\nRoman shores, to the ocean, and to the Gulf of Friesland. One part of\nEurope only have you omitted to visit: it is that where my bones are\nlaid, and to which you swore to me to make an expedition in my honour.\nI am sent to you from above. If Heaven makes you the most powerful among\nthe mighty ones of earth, it is that you may accomplish its designs.\nArise, then; rescue my remains from profane hands, and open the route\nfor pilgrims to my shrine. Arm your brave Franks, Lombards, Saxons, and\nAustrians, and march straight for the Saracens of Spain. I shall be with\nyou in danger, and by-and-by you will find me ready to conduct you to\nHeaven.\u201d\n\nThe vision vanished. Two hours later Eginhard, coming to seek\nCharlemagne, found him still upon his knees in the park praying, with\ntears in his eyes.\n\n[Illustration: 116]\n\n[Illustration: 120]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. HOW KING MARSILLUS SAW A VISION.\n\nA SHORT time previous to the foregoing events, Marsillus had a vision at\nSaragossa.\n\nCome with me now to Spain, my young friends. Do not murmur, for there\nexists nothing so lovely as Spain, unless it be \u201cthe terrestrial\nparadise,\u201d of which I am not in a position to form an opinion.\n\nThere the sandal-wood, the spikenard, the saffron, the ebony, and the\nclove, the most extraordinary flowers, the most delicious fruits, all\ngrow wild. The streams prattle more gaily there than anywhere else,\njoyfully sprinkling with dewy drops the ever-verdant banks. On all sides\ntrees, clothed with luxuriant foliage, provide shelter for the\nmost musical birds in the world. The choir numbers the tomtit, the\nnightingale, the phoenix, the turtle-dove, and a thousand others. Must\nI, at the risk of making your mouths water, mention a few of the fruits\nof this marvellous land? What do you say to the fig, the grape, the\npomegranate, the almond, the lemon, the pine-apple, the olive, and\nthe orange? And the flowers!--clumps of roses everywhere, lilies,\nchrysanthemums! Here, grow ox-eyes; there, spring violets; yonder bloom\nthe narcissus and the balsam. The cool brooklets, abundant and limpid\nas glass, flow over pebbles as bright as crystal and topaz. There are\ngardens like those of Persia, minarets like those of Bagdad, a blue sky\u2019\nlike that of no other part of the world. The nights are so delicious,\none is sorry to go to sleep. Everywhere are seen wealth, beauty, joy,\nand plenty! Such is Spain.\n\nAll this, however, was ruined by the presence of the Saracens.\n\nMarsillus was taking a nap. He was lying on cushions of priceless\nmaterial. The pavilion in which he had sought repose was of stained\nivory, inlaid with gold. In the midst a joyous fountain diffused\ncoolness around it; while an incense, compounded of musk, ambergris,\nand camphor, made into a paste with distilled otto of roses, burning in\nmarble bowls, filled the air with sweetness.\n\nAll at once the daylight turned sickly pale. A chill like that of\nthe tomb succeeded the agreeable coolness and the perfumes yielded to\nsickening odours like those of the grave. The flowers faded; all that\nwas brightest became dull and tarnished; and a corpse came and seated\nitself beside the King of Saragossa. It scarcely retained the human\nform, being made up of shreds and rags of flesh, and rendered only the\nmore hideous by the gay robes in which it was enveloped.\n\n\u201cMy father!\u201d said the corpse, \u201chave you, then, forgotten me?\u201d Marsillus\nopened his eyes, uttered a shriek, and, after gazing round vainly\nfor some way of escape, sank back motionless, with haggard eyes and\nbristling locks, and bathed in a cold sweat.\n\n[Illustration: 121]\n\n\u201cIs it thus you receive your son, after a separation of ten years? Open\nyour arms to me, beloved monarch, for I hunger for your embrace!\u201d On\nseeing Murad approaching him, the terrified Marsillus sprang to his\nfeet, and strove to get out of his way, but in vain. The corpse caught\nhim in its arms, folded him to its bosom, which cracked in a ghastly way\nwith the force of the hug, and \u201ccovered with cold and clammy kisses the\nface and white locks of the King of Saragossa, on which they left gory\nstains!\n\n\u201cLeave me--depart!\u201d shrieked the old man. \u201cWhat have I done to you, or\nwhat would you have me do?\u201d\n\n\u201cI would be avenged on Roland of France.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will avenge you, Murad. But now leave me, if you do not wish me to\nperish on the spot.\u201d And Marsillus, putting forth all his strength,\nfreed himself from the embraces of his son, and rushed to the other end\nof the chamber.\n\n\u201cIn truth, my lord, you are not altered. As I left you nine years ago I\nfind you now. You have just asked me two questions. I will answer them.\nYou have asked what I would have you do? To that I answer, Avenge my\ndeath! I would see this accursed Roland and his friends punished in\na way that should never be forgotten by the rest of mankind. I am\nastonished that so affectionate a father and so just a king should have\nbeen so long thinking about vengeance. Your other question was, \u2018What\nhad you done to me?\u2019 Those words, by the Prophet! should have died away\non your lips; but since your conscience does not assist your memory, I\nwill take its place. You do not question, of course, my dear lord, that\ndeath reveals everything to us? One has reason to complain of it not so\nmuch because it takes us from this world, as because it places the past\nbefore us in naked truth--brings in review before us all our errors\nand our beliefs--and teaches one, for instance, that one has had such a\nfather as you.\u201d\n\nMarsillus dug his nails into the wall, against which he had placed his\nback, as if he would fain scoop out for himself some place of refuge.\n\nMurad continued:--\u201cWhile I was a child, happily for me, I did not occupy\nany place in your life; but from the hour when you saw me return the\nconqueror of the lioness and her cubs, you began to keep an eye on me. I\ngrew up under your personal superintendence, and if the queen, Hadrama,\nmy mother, had not at times pressed me to her bosom, I believe I should\nhave become a wild beast, and not a man. My name became famous; the\nprodigies of my valour, my wisdom, and bravery won you many kingdoms. In\na short time I had doubled your empire. Your jealousy increased with\nmy fame, until, unable to look undazzled at the glory of my renown, you\ndetermined to make away with me. From that moment I had to encounter\na thousand plots--a thousand treacheries, over which I triumphed by a\nmiracle, but of which I never once suspected the origin.\u201d\n\nMarsillus would fain have denied this, but his voice stuck in his\nparched throat.\n\n\u201cYour slaves one day found a huge snake, a venomous monster, which they\nat once slew. It was a female, and would have left twenty little ones to\nlament her loss if you had not considerately ordered the destruction of\nthe whole family. The father alone escaped. Once in possession of this\nlittle stock of poison, you asked yourself how you could best dispose\nof it, and being neither selfish nor thoughtless--you see, I do you the\nfullest justice--you were not long in remembering me. Your creatures\ntook the twenty young snakes and scattered them from their nest to my\nroom, where they concealed the mother\u2019s body under my bed. As soon as\nnight came, the male snake traced from corpse to corpse the path you had\nso obligingly mapped out for him, and, full of fury, arrived almost\nat the bed where I was sleeping. I will spare you the recital of what\nfollowed, for it would wring your heart. All I have to observe is, that\non my making my appearance before you next day, you knitted your brows;\nyou were even put out when I laid at your feet the two serpents, one\nonly of which owed its destruction to me. It was fortunate for you that\non the previous night I had struck one of your slaves, for it was at\nonce decided that he had attempted to revenge himself on me, and, in\nyour anxiety to see me righted, you sliced his head off before he had\ntime to utter a word in defence.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 123]\n\n[Illustration: 124]\n\n\u201cI shall only briefly recall to you the horse, which, maddened with some\nnoxious drench, almost leaped with me into a bottomless abyss.\nThanks to Allah, I did not lose my self-possession, and gave the animal\nsuch a blow behind the ear with my fist that he dropped lifeless,\nsending me rolling within a few paces ot the gulf which you had intended\nfor my grave. Next day, on rising, I beheld a startling sight. You\nhad, in your stern sense of justice, ordered the impalement of all\nmy faithful grooms, who were devoted to me, and you replaced them by\ncreatures of your own.\u201d\n\nMarsillus hid his face in his hands.\n\n\u201cFinally, after ten years spent in futile efforts to get rid of me, you\ndetermined to send me to the French tournament, where I met my death.\nNow I might certainly desire, and insist, that you should pay dearly for\nyour past vagaries; but I offer you pardon, and only ask one thing in\nreturn; but that I must and will have.\u201d\n\nMarsillus raised his head.\n\n\u201cAngoulaffre, Priamus, Corsablix, and all the other victims who shared\nmy fate, speak to you with my lips. We demand the death of Roland and\nthe knights of Charlemagne. Swear to avenge us!\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear!\u201d murmured the old man.\n\n\u201cGive me your hand on it!\u201d And Murad strode towards him. But at that\nMarsillus shouted so lustily, that his guards rushed in. They found\nthe King stretched on the ground, his robes dishevelled, and his lips\nuttering disconnected sentences.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t leave me!--don\u2019t leave!\u201d he cried, dragging himself to the feet\nof the guard. \u201cI have seen Murad! He calls for vengeance! His kisses\nhave chilled my very marrow. You won\u2019t leave me?--promise me you won\u2019t!\nIf you do, I\u2019ll have you all put to death!\u201d\n\nThe most experienced physicians were at once sent for. They agreed\nthat His Highness was suffering from brain fever. But as nobody had the\ncourage to convey this intelligence to His Majesty, no attempt was made\nto cure him; to which circumstance he owed his recovery.\n\nBy degrees the dreadful scene vanished from his mind, and in a month he\nhad almost forgotten it.\n\n[Illustration: 125]\n\n\u201cGo to war at my age!\u201d said the King to himself. \u201cWhat nonsense!\nI have the finest kingdom in the world. Charlemagne leaves me alone: why\nshould I provoke him? Not I, i\u2019faith! I must have had a bad dream, and\nI must mind I don\u2019t get an unpleasant waking-up by going to tweak\nCharlemagne by the beard. Sleep sweetly, Prince Murad, and let me live\nin peace!\u201d\n\nFrom that time Marsillus never passed a day without receiving a visit\nfrom his son. He had a guard constantly in his presence, but it was no\nuse.\n\nThen he tried to discover some means of ridding himself of this\nfrightful spectre; and, at length, one night determined to await its\napproach resolutely, yataghan in hand.\n\nMurad came as usual, and approached his father; but he, with four blows\nof his sword, sliced off the head, legs, and arms of the corpse. Then he\nbreathed more freely. But the head immediately burst out laughing, while\nthe right arm politely picked up the weapon Marsillus had let fall, and\nhanded it to him.\n\n\u201cTake this yataghan, sire; it is one I wore for a long time--the one, in\nshort, you gave me as a boy. Have you forgotten it?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 126]\n\nThe King, more driven to his wits\u2019 end than ever, tremblingly flung his\nson\u2019s limbs into a mat, and tied the four corners together. Then he ran\nat full speed into the garden, accompanied by roars of laughter from the\nhead, which did not cease to move as he bore it. Arrived at the end of\nthe park, he dug six deep holes; put the head in the first, the right\narm in the second, the left arm in the third, the right leg; in the\nfourth, the left leg in the fifth, and the trunk in the sixth. Then he\nthrew the earth in upon them, and ran in again, without daring to look\nbehind him.\n\nMarsillus by this means gained a month\u2019s respite. But, at last, the\nSultana one day begged him to accompany her to the bottom of the\ngrounds, where she had discovered some unknown description of flowers,\nwhich gave out an odour so sweet, it was almost impossible to tear\nyourself away from them when once you had gone near them. The King\nrefused with such evident horror, that the surprised Hadrama only\npersisted the more, and he had to give way. As he approached nearer,\nhis blood froze in his veins; his eyes were blinded with mist; his teeth\nchattered horribly. Walk slowly as he would, he _must_ at last reach the\nterrible spot where his son\u2019s remains were concealed.\n\n[Illustration: 127]\n\nOn arriving there, the Sultana said, \u201cSee how thick the turf is! Did you\never see anything like it?\u201d\n\nTo the terrified Marsillus it seemed as if human hair was growing and\ncovering the ground on which he trod.\n\n\u201cIs there anything more delicious than the scent of these flowers?\u201d But\nMarsillus could only smell the foul odours of a grave.\n\n\u201cSee what flocks of birds perch in the branches! Hark! how sweetly they\nsing!\u201d\n\nBut Marsillus seemed but to hear a laugh that came from under the\nground. He saw that the leaves of this strange tree were shaped\nlike human tongues, and when the breeze shook them, low\u2019 voices\nmurmured--\u201cRevered sovereign, avenge my death!\u201d\n\nThe King of Saragossa fell on his knees and to his prayers. The big\ntears ran down his white beard. \u201cSow sin, and you will reap remorse!\u201d he\nexclaimed, with his eyes fixed on the earth.\n\nThe next day he called together his nobles, and announced to them his\nintention of avenging the death of Murad!\n\n[Illustration: 128]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. THE TWO ALCALDES.\n\nMARSILLUS commenced his address in the following words:--\n\n\u201cMay Allah enlighten you, and shed his glory on you, for I have\nassembled you to a council. Listen to this brief recital, and give me\nyour opinion on it.\n\n\u201cA lion, full of youth and strength, was gaping and yawning enough to\nput his jaws out of joint. He had done nothing for the day, but yet,\nwholly given up to idleness, he stretched himself on the warm sand,\nroasting first one side and then the other in the hot rays of the sun.\nAn ant happened to pass close by him, painfully dragging a small fly.\nSeeing such great labour bestowed on so small an object, the lion burst\nout laughing. \u2018It is not very becoming in you to make a jest of me,\u2019\nsaid the toiler, without ceasing from his task; \u2018I am weak, but I make\nfull use of the little strength Heaven has given me, while you, who\nmight do anything, are giving way to slumber before you have earned it\nby fatigue. Leave off smiling, for you are in the wrong. I am stronger\nand braver than you. Remember, \u2018a busy ant does more than a dozing\nlion.\u2019\u201d\n\nMahomet, who was leaning on a cloud, and happened to hear them, greatly\napproved of the ant\u2019s remarks.\n\n[Illustration: 129]\n\n\u201cBy the divinity of the Ka\u2019abah, by the shrine of Mecca, are not we like\nthis lion? We pass our lives in sloth and luxury, while the ruler of the\nFranks is hard at work extending his dominions. The day before yesterday\nhe was in Aquitaine--yesterday he was in Lombardy--to-day he is in\nSaxony--to-morrow he may be in our kingdom. But do you, the sons of\nthose whom Mussa led along the banks of the Rhone and the Saone--do\nyou feel inclined to sit still and wait his coming? If, gorged with\nprosperity, you have forgotten the past, the people of Nimes and Arles,\nof Narbonne and Bordeaux, of Toulouse and Chalons, do not forget it\nwhen they gaze on their ruined cities, their desolated cathedrals, their\noverthrown fortresses. Children of Alsamah, of Abdel-Rahman, Ambissa,\nand Marsufle, have at the descendants of Charles Martel, Eudes, and\nPepin! If these victorious names do not make your hearts leap, will they\nquail at the recollection of our disasters at Poitiers? The bones of\nour sires enrich French soil--the harvests the Franks reap have been\nfattened by the blood of our bravest, which fed the fields. They are\nours, but we have been robbed of them. Let us go and win them back\nagain!\u201d\n\nThe assembly received this harangue with terrific cheering. Shouts,\nobservations, threats, and warnings were mixed in such inextricable\nconfusion that Marsillus did not know what to listen to. He remarked,\nhowever, that two of his emirs held themselves apart and maintained\nsilence. When the tumult had subsided, he beckoned to them to draw near.\n\n\u201cWhy do you keep aloof instead of sharing in the general enthusiasm?\nAnswer, Abiathar--answer, Ibn al Arrabi. You are generally more lively\nwhen there is a prospect of war.\u201d\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d said Abiathar, the Alcalde of Huesca, \u201cI grieve to behold you\nundertaking an enterprise which will bring you no credit.\u201d\n\nA threatening murmur ran through the assembly.\n\n\u201cThis is a fearful responsibility you take on yourself,\u201d said, in his\nturn, Soleyman Jaktan Ibn al Arrabi, Alcalde of Saragossa. \u201cIs it not\npossible you may have reason to repent having called down upon yourself\nthe wrath of the King of the Franks?\u201d\n\nThis speech caused such an outburst of anger, that some of Marsillus\u2019s\nknights drew their swords and threatened the lives of the two emirs.\n\n\u201cVerily, I feel no gratitude to you,\u201d said the King of Saragossa. \u201cI\nhope I may attribute the cowardly expressions you have just uttered to\nyour increasing years!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 130]\n\n\u201cIn spite of our age, we lack neither strength nor valour,\u201d said\nAbiathar, who turned a ghastly white with sheer rage; \u201cand we prove\nthat, I think sufficiently, by having the courage to talk reason to\nmadmen!\u201d Several chiefs rushed at them with drawn swords.\n\n\u201cWe don\u2019t in the least lack strength,\u201d said Ibn al Arrabi, as he seized\none of the most violent of his assailants by the throat, and flung\nhim twenty paces away. \u201cAny one who doubts it can easily try the\nexperiment.\u201d\n\nMarsillus descended from his throne, and placed himself between the\ncontending parties.\n\n\u201cDo you,\u201d he said to his knights, \u201creserve your ardour for a more\nfitting occasion. I thank you for having proved that I was right in\nrelying on your support. As for you, Abiathar, and you, Ibn al Arrabi, I\nfeel obliged to you for your frankness. But your prophetic powers will,\nof course, have enabled you to guess that I shall confide the defence of\nHuesca and Saragossa to others. Having, then, no office under the crown,\nyou will be enabled to hear without regret the plans about which you are\nso full of caution and prudence.\u201d\n\nWith that he gave them the signal to withdraw. The two emirs bowed and\ndeparted. One month after they presented themselves at the Court of\nFrance.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. CHARLEMAGNE IN SPAIN.\n\n[Illustration: 131]\n\nABIATHAR and il Ibn al Arrabi found Charlemagne at Paderborn, where he\nimmediately accorded them an audience.\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d said Abiathar, \u201cwe come, accompanied by a hundred followers, to\ndo homage and service to you. The report of your unrivalled glory has\nreached even us, and we have arrived at the conclusion that he who\naccomplishes so many great things must be the favourite of Heaven. We\nhave studied in secret the teachings of your faith, and we have found in\nthem the springs of truth and virtue. They have, in short, convinced us,\nand inspired us with an ardent wish to become Christians. We would then\nstrive to make proselytes, and, trampling the crescent under foot, would\nraise the cross on high. Martyrdom in our case almost preceded baptism.\nMarsillus is in pursuit of us, and has commanded that when taken we\nshall be subjected to the most hideous tortures. But Heaven has been our\naid. We have escaped the executioners who were on our track, and here\nwe are at the feet of the most powerful monarch in the Christian\nworld, asking of him to baptise us!\u201d These falsehoods made the greatest\nimpression on Charles.\n\n\u201cWe come, moreover, sire,\u201d said Ibn al Arrabi, \u201cto announce to you that\nMarsillus is busily preparing a religious war, and is ready to invade\nyour realms. We do not bring, it is true, the ordinary gifts of\nenvoys--gold, jewels, and fine merchandise; but we do what is better, we\nbring you Spain as a present. The chief people of Huesca, Valentia, and\nSaragossa are yours. These cities are devoted to us, and wait but\nour signal to tear down the crescent and erect the cross. We announce\nourselves from this moment to be vassals of the Crown of France, and\nwe undertake to show to you the only four practicable passes of the\nPyrenees which exist--those of Barcelona, Puycerda, Pampeluna, and\nToulouse. The Christians in Aragon, Castille, and Leon, are ripe for\nrevolt. At the first hint they will descend from the inaccessible\nfastnesses in which they find shelter, to join your triumphant armies.\nIn Asturia and Catalonia the standard of the cross is ready to be\ndisplayed. Call together, therefore, a large army, and hasten to\nanticipate the measures of those who wish to take you by surprise.\u201d\n\nCharlemagne was so delighted that he clasped the two emirs in his arms,\nand kissed them on the cheek and chin. Subsequently he presented them\nto his peers, knights, and bishops, and invited a new recital of the\nintelligence they had brought him. They acceded to his request.\n\n\u201cIt is St. James who has sent them,\u201d said the Emperor; adding, \u201che shall\nnot have to wait, I swear by Our Lady!\u201d\n\nThe war had been resolved upon more than a month, when the two alcaldes\narrived at Paderborn. They soon beheld the forces which Charles had\ncalled together marching in from all quarters.\n\nYou must know, my young friends, that the nobles who held fiscal\nterritory--that is to say, belonging to the Crown lands--were bound to\nhold themselves always in readiness for warfare, to present themselves\nat the first summons, with their contingents of men-at-arms, at the\nplace where the sovereign ordered them to assemble. Charlemagne had\nnever made such gigantic preparations as he did for this Spanish\nexpedition. He called together the whole of his faithful vassals\nof Neustria, Burgundy, Austrasia, Germany, Bavaria, Septimania, and\nProvence; he even summoned the Lombards, although they had only just\nbeen reduced to submission.\n\nIt was the beginning of spring, a time which the Emperor thought\nfavourable for commencing his campaign. He set out for his country\nestate of Casseneuil, in Poitou, whence, after celebrating Easter, he\nmarched to Spain at the head of the most wonderful army he had ever led.\n\nThe two Saracens, who were present at the inspection of this vast force,\nwere astounded at it. There passed before them two hundred thousand\nsoldiers, armed in a hundred different styles, according to the fashion\nof the country from which they came,--and they had come from every part\nof Europe. Then followed the machines of war--towers, balist\u00e6, onagri, *\nscorpions, and catapults. Next rode the paladins, the nobles and knights\nof the realm, followed by the bishops, priests, and clerks of the\nChapel Royal. When Charlemagne appeared, clad in his panoply of war, the\nSaracens shook with terror.\n\n     * Onagri were machines which discharged large stones.\n     Scorpions flung showers of arrows darts, and small missiles.\n\n\u201cAll is over with Spain,\u201d said they, shedding abundant tears. \u201cWhat\npeople, what cities, what fortresses could resist such armies? An iron\ntempest is about to burst over the heads of the children of the Prophet.\nWhat could we do in this world after that? Let us return and die in the\nland that gave us birth.\u201d\n\nAnd the Saracens, without waiting to see the end of the spectacle, rode\noff at full gallop. At a later period they were recognised among the\nslain before the walls of Saragossa. The Emperor divided his army into\ntwo columns. One, consisting of the Lombards and Austrasians, marched\nfrom narbonne under the command of Count Bernard, entered Spain at\nPerpignan, marched along the coast to Barcelona, and overran Catalonia\nas far as the Ebro. The second column, composed of the flower of the\narmy, knights and nobles, and commanded by the Emperor in person,\ncrossed the Pyrenees from Gascony and Navarre, and sat down before\nPampeluna, whither in his turn came Count Bernard.\n\nThe siege lasted three months, and was carried on, with great losses\non both sides, until one day Charlemagne, being at prayers, petitioned\nHeaven to allow him, since he had entered Spain for the glory of the\nChristian faith and the destruction of the Saracen race, to take this\nstronghold of the infidels, which he would purify, and where sacred\nchants should rise instead of incense offered up to false deities.\n\u201cSaint James,\u201d said the Emperor, \u201cif it was really you who appeared to\nme--if I have rightly obeyed the orders you gave to me--intercede for me\nthat I may win this city.\u201d\n\nHe rose, comforted in his mind, ordered an assault, and on that day\nPampeluna fell. One hundred thousand Saracens received baptism; all who\nwished to persist in error were put to death.\n\nThe Franks marched along the banks of the Ebro and laid siege to\nSaragossa, which made as stout a resistance as it could; but it was\nfated to fall, as Pampeluna had done. The Saracens, growing alarmed at\nCharlemagne\u2019s success, submitted. Alcaldes and emirs came in from all\nsides to render homage to the Frank monarch; even those who could not\ncome sent him hostages and tribute.\n\nCharles overran the whole of the north of Spain with his victorious\narmy. From Catalonia to Galicia, and extending to the line of the Ebro,\nhe was everywhere received by, rather than took possession of, cities\nand fortresses. Arriving at Compostella, he paid a devout visit to the\nsepulchre of St. James, according to his promise, and had baptised there\nthose of the Galicians who had forsaken the faith of their forefathers\nfor the service of Mahomet. He established priests of the Holy Church\nin all the chief towns of Spain, and assembled in the month of July\na council of sixty bishops and a parliament of peers, by whom it was\ndecided that all the archbishops, bishops, kings, and princes of Spain\nand Galicia, present or future, should recognise the authority of the\nArchbishop of Compostella. The church was dedicated to St. James, Turpin\nofficiating. It was endowed by means of a tax of four deniers per annum\nimposed upon the innkeepers, and was released from all feudal service.\nThe King also declared it to be his wish that all the bishops of the\ncountry should be ordained, and all the kings crowned, by the archbishop\nof the diocese.\n\nIn this way the King discharged his obligation to the saint. This done,\nhe pursued his route to the southern extremity of Spain, now known as\nCape Finisterre. There, finding he could advance no further, he flung\nhis lance into the sea, and returned thanks to Heaven and St. James for\nhaving aided him to bring his expedition to a successful issue. The gold\nand silver which the Emperor brought back with him from Spain enabled\nhim to restore and found many churches--to wit, one to Our Lady at\nAix-la-Chapelle, and also of St. James; a second of St. James at\nBeziers; a third at Toulouse; a fourth in Gascony, between the village\nof St. Jean de Sorgeat and Ax; and, finally, one at Paris, between the\nSeine and Montmartre, of which nothing remains but the lofty tower known\nas the St. James\u2019s Shambles. The Emperor divided his new provinces into\ntwo Marches, called those of Septimania and Gascony. The first, which\nconsisted of Catalonia proper, had its capital at Barcelona; the second,\nembracing Navarre and Aragon, had Saragossa as its seat of government.\nTo Louis of Aquitaine, Charlemagne\u2019s son, was committed the task of\nkeeping the country in submission as far as the Ebro.\n\n[Illustration: 134]\n\n[Illustration: 135]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. THE TRAP.\n\nMITAINE had followed Charlemagne into Spain. She was now so skilful in\nthe use of her sword that her want of strength was not noticeable.\nShe rode well, and easily bore the weight of hauberk and suit of mail,\ncasque and greaves of steel. She only needed wings to be so like, as\nto deceive the spectator, one of the armed cherubs who accompany the\nArchangel Michael.\n\nCharlemagne, who had not forgotten the attacks of which Mitaine had\nmore than once been the object, gave her a command of twenty men, under\npretence of rewarding her for her good services. It was, in reality, a\nbody-guard which he established about her.\n\nFrom this moment, then, please to picture to yourselves our fair young\nfriend marching proudly at the head of her twenty veterans.\n\nThe precaution was a wise one. It happened, however, that Mitaine one\nday wandered forth beyond the bounds of the camp. Night overtook her\nin a forest, which, however lovely by daylight, was not at all an\ninspiriting spot at night. She dismounted in the midst of a glade, where\nshe resolved to await the return of day rather than venture further.\nIt was so dark that the Old Gentleman himself--sharp-sighted as he\nis--could not have seen his tail before him or behind him.\n\nMitaine stretched herself on the sward, sleeping with one eye and waking\nwith the other. Before lone the moon showed herself above the horizon,\nbut her light could scarcely penetrate the thick foliage, and only\nlighted imperfectly some portions of the thicket.\n\nMitaine heard approaching footsteps, and was instantly on the alert.\n\u201cWhat a fool I am!\u201d she said to herself, after listening for a few\nseconds; \u201cit is my horse trampling on the broken branches.\u201d Again she\nheard it: it was impossible for her to close her eyes. All was now\nsilent, but the silence alarmed her more than the noise. Three times she\ncalled her steed--\u201cVaillant, Vaillant, Vaillant!\u201d A distant neigh was\nthe only response. She rose and went on tiptoe to inspect the spot where\nshe had tied up her horse, but her horse was gone. Then she fancied she\ncould make out under one of the trees a human form--a little further off\nanother,--a third--in short, she counted eight. She saw them move, and\ncome towards her in a circle, which narrowed every moment. She drew her\nsword, and rushed on them; but soon found herself seized by powerful\nhands, which grasped her like a vice. Nevertheless she did not lose\nheart, but began to fight and struggle, to bite and hit out to such\neffect that, if the night had been less dark, one might have seen a\nwrithing mass of human forms struggling fearfully. Every time when they\nthought they held her prisoner she contrived to break loose. It was no\neasy work for the attackers or the attacked, for none of them could see\na bit. One would have declared it was blind men quarrelling over their\nbooty.\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you use your weapons?\u201d said a sinister voice. The speaker was\nmerely a spectator of the combat.\n\n\u201cIt is easier to say use your weapons than to do it,\u201d answered one of\nthe ruffians. \u201cOne can\u2019t see a bit, and the young demon goes on so that\nwe don\u2019t know how to get hold of her.\u201d\n\nMitaine continued to lay about her on all sides until one of her\nopponents cried out, with a fierce oath, \u201cCurse the girl! she has\nstabbed me in the eye!\u201d And the wounded man in his fury, listening only\nto the voice of rage, struck out wildly and hit one of his comrades,\nwhereupon ensued a general _melee_, of which the young girl availed\nherself to escape.\n\n\u201cFarewell, Croquemitaine!\u201d she cried; \u201che will have to be swift of\nfoot who overtakes me in running.\u201d But instead of making her escape she\nclimbed into a tree, and hid herself among the branches.\n\n\u201cFollow her! I swear by the Evil One that I\u2019ll hang every one of you if\nshe escapes!\u201d\n\nMitaine now heard her enemies groping among the underwood, trying the\nholly and juniper bushes with the points of their swords, until at last\nthe sound died away, and she heard no more. However, she determined on\nremaining in her place of concealment until dawn.\n\n\u201cI shall know how to recognise you this time, Master Croquemitaine! One\nof your fellows has lost an eye, and I have noticed that they have a\nWestphalian accent,\u201d said the brave girl, as she reached the ground. \u201cIf\nHeaven conducts me safely to the camp of my royal sponsor, you shall be\nuncloaked, I will promise you on my faith!\u201d\n\nShe knelt down, breathed her matin prayer, and resumed her way, trusting\nto Providence to recover her right path. When she had walked for about\nan hour she heard distant shouts, and the blast of a horn.\n\n\u201cWho can tell what I may have to encounter now? Prudence is not\ncowardice; so I had better conceal myself, and reconnoitre.\u201d\n\nAgain Mitaine climbed into a tree, and watched. Before long she saw a\nparty of soldiers approaching, exploring the forest, beating the bushes,\nand shouting to the full extent of their lungs. She then heard her\nown name, and recognised her father, who, in great alarm, headed the\nsearchers in person. She was not long in descending from her perch, I\nassure you. How delighted she was to fling herself into Miton\u2019s arms!\n\nFor a minute they occupied themselves in exchanging embraces and broken\nsentences, to which neither thought of listening, and which had to be\nbegun afresh as soon as the first outbreak of joy was over. The Count of\nRennes related his fears at not seeing his beloved child return on the\nprevious evening, his alarm when Vaillant returned home alone, and how\nhe had spent the night in searching the forest. Having said thus much,\nhe allowed his words to give place to renewed caresses.\n\n[Illustration: 139]\n\nWhen they were once more on the move, Mitaine informed her father of the\ndangers she had escaped. She also recited her adventures to Charles.\n\nThe Emperor listened attentively, and then said to Miton--\n\n\u201cCount of Rennes, send out in every direction, and bid them bring before\nme, dead or alive, all the one-eyed men within ten leagues round.\u201d\n Bodies of cavalry were dispatched in every quarter, and acted with\nsuch vigour, that by the next morning early forty blind men awaited\nHis Majesty\u2019s inspection. They were of all races--Franks, Jews, and\nSaracens. Charles examined them carefully; and when he had rejected\nthose who seemed to him to have been blind for a long period, or\nthose whose presence in camp for two days past was established on good\nevidence, he remarked, with great astonishment, that there only remained\nten men in the livery of the Count of Mayence, and that they were all\nrecently wounded in the right eye. The emperor knit his brows, and sent\nfor Ganelon.\n\n\u201cPrithee, friend, can you explain to me how it is that all your men here\nhave become blind since yesterday, and all of the same eye, too?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing can be more simple. Because I am short-sighted.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou dare jest with me!\u201d shouted the Emperor, with a voice of thunder.\n\n\u201cHeaven preserve me if I should!\u201d said the count, with a low reverence.\n\u201cYour Majesty will perceive that there is nothing in this at all\nunnatural. Having very weak sight, I am always seeking for anything\nthat will strengthen it. I have tried all remedies, and have found only\nquacks in France. One physicked me; another bled me; a third invoked the\ndevil; a fourth sent me to take the waters at Aix-la-Chapelle----\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak no evil against those waters!\u201d interposed Charlemagne, who\nfrequently had recourse to them, and believed in them firmly.\n\n\u201cSome put the bones of St. Ursula on my eyes; others wished me to remain\nfor five years in complete darkness. I had quite given up all hope of\nany good results, when chance flung in my way a Saracen more learned\nthan Esculapius, or even Hermes Trismegistus himself. This wise person\nexplained to me that in all things it was necessary to make the most of\nyour powers; that I had only a certain strength of vision to dispose\nof, and that in dividing it between my two eyes I employed it without\nprofit. It would be better for me to have one eye that saw as well as\ntwo, than two eyes which only saw as well as one; and he recommended me\nto have one eye put out. His discourse appeared to me so full of logic\nand common sense, that I gave him his freedom.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut that does not explain----\u201d\n\n\u201cOne moment\u2019s patience, sire. The remedy appeared to me good, but\nextreme; and I confess I hesitated, for fear of committing a mistake\nwhich would be irreparable. It was then that I sent for these objects\nthat you observe: they all complained of being short-sighted. I deprived\nthem of their right eyes----\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd--?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey can\u2019t see any better now than you and I!\u201d\n\n\u201cSpeak for yourself, count. If you are short-sighted, I have a tolerably\nkeen vision. It would serve you right, by St. James! if I were to have\nboth your eyes put out for telling me such absurd nonsense. Now, I\nam neither an Esculapius nor a Hermes Trismegistus; but I am going to\nprescribe a remedy which will do you a very great deal of good. You will\nstart, with your one-eyed warriors, for Aquitaine, where the air is said\nto be very beneficial to the sight, and you will take a letter for me to\nyour friend Wolf, and bring me back an answer.\u201d\n\nCharlemagne thereupon turned his back on the count, who set out the same\nnight for Toulouse.\n\nThe meeting of Miton and Milaiue\n\n[Illustration: 140]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. HOW ROLAND UNDERTOOK TO CARRY SARAGOSSA BY STORM.\n\nIF, my young friends, I have for some few chapters omitted mention of\nRoland, don\u2019t jump at the conclusion that he did not distinguish himself\nduring the war in Spain, for he took the most notable part in it, as you\nmay judge for yourselves.\n\nAfter three months spent in fruitless attacks, Saragossa still stood\nas strong as it was on the first day of the siege. The catapults and\nbalist\u00e6 had become disabled without making the slightest impression on\nthe ramparts. The scaling parties had been repulsed, and the stormers,\nhacked in pieces with daggers and lances, had been flung from the\nwalls into the fosse, or fell among the flames of the raging fires--for\nburning pitch had been flung over the walls until it had covered them\nwith a coating of bitumen as impenetrable as iron.\n\nRoland lost patience. \u201cPrepare everything for the storm to-morrow,\u201d\n said he to Charlemagne. \u201cIn one hour the breach shall be made!\u201d And he\ndescended into the fosse with no other arms, offensive or defensive,\nthan Durandal and his shield.\n\n\u201cWhither goes your nephew, sire?\u201d said Turpin to Charlemagne, following\nRoland with his eyes. \u201cIs he mad, or tired of life?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know what he is going to do, but he has bidden me have all\nready for the assault, saying that within an hour the breach will be\nmade.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will do it, then, sire, as he has said it; and, by my faith! I am\ngrateful to him, for we are beginning to grow mouldy here.\u201d\n\nCharles mounted his horse, and began to make his dispositions for the\nassault. The Saracen sentries on guard on the rampart hardly took any\nnotice of the single warrior who approached the city; but, hearing a\ngreat noise, they leant over and saw Roland, who was hammering at the\nwall with repeated strokes of the pommel of Durandal.\n\nThe Saracens laughed, and asked one another what the idiot wanted.\n\n\u201cShall we smash him?\u201d said one of them, preparing to roll a huge stone\nover the rampart.\n\n\u201cWhat for?\u201d said another. \u201cIs there any reason to be afraid of him?\nShouldn\u2019t you like; to know what he has come here to do?\u201d\n\nCuriosity is the worst of advisers. The sentinels exposed themselves in\norder to see better, and four arrows struck them in the face. It was the\nhour of target-practice with the pages of Charlemagne.\n\n\u201cI am afraid this is likely to make the infidels squint!\u201d said Mitaine,\nchoosing a new arrow.\n\nRoland, heedless of all that was passing around him, continued his work\nof destruction. The wall began at last to yawn, and the knight to smile,\ndelighted at his success.\n\n[Illustration: 141]\n\nBy-and-by the tremendous hammering excited the curiosity of the\nbesieged, and some of the soldiers, seeing the sentinels leaning over\nthe ramparts and never stirring, were anxious to discover what was so\nengrossing their attention. They in their turn leant over, and each\nreceived an arrow in his ear.\n\n\u201cWhat do you think of those ear-rings?\u201d said Mitaine, laughing. \u201cWere\never such lovely trinkets seen? Saint Eloi, the goldsmith, could not\nhave fashioned finer!\u201d\n\nDuring this time Roland redoubled his force. A rent thirty cubits long\nbegan to threaten the wall with ruin. Marsillus, who was passing in the\nneighbourhood, felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. Every blow of\nthe pommel of Durandal made the whole quarter of the city shake to its\nfoundation.\n\n\u201cSo, then,\u201d said the King of Saragossa, \u201cthese wretches have brought new\nengines of war against us! Why has no one told me of this? Ebrechin, go\nsee what it is, and hasten back with intelligence of what is passing.\u201d\n\nThe earth continued to quake, and several houses began to tremble to\ntheir fall.\n\n\u201cIt is not an ordinary balista at work there,\u201d said Marsillus. \u201cNone of\nthose in use now can deliver such hard blows.\u201d\n\nBut hardly had the King finished his sentence when a mosque fell in\nruins within a hundred paces of where he stood. Then a still more awful\nnoise froze his blood with terror. The breach was made: Roland had kept\nhis word.\n\n[Illustration: 142]\n\n[Illustration: 143]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. A TRIP TO MAHOMET\u2019S PARADISE.\n\nWHILE Roland was descending into the fosse of Saragossa, Mahomet was\ntaking his afternoon nap in his Paradise. A houri had rolled a cloud\nunder his head, and he was snoring serenely near the fountain.\n\nThe first blow of Durandal\u2019s pommel awoke the Prophet.\n\n\u201cCome in,\u201d said he, turning round, in no pleasant humour at being\ndisturbed. The second stroke put him out still more; and he rang for the\nangel Namous, and inquired of him who dared to make such an uproar.\n\n\u201cGreat Prophet,\u201d said the heavenly messenger, \u201cit\u2019s that Roland at his\ntricks again. He has undertaken to fling down the walls of Saragossa;\nand I really can\u2019t help trembling for the fate of your followers!\u201d\n\n\u201cI must see to this,\u201d said Mahomet; \u201cI feel certain you are exaggerating\nas usual, and that my brave Marsillus will not let himself be beaten by\na Christian.\u201d\n\nThe Prophet stepped down into his observatory, and turned his telescope\non Saragossa.\n\n[Illustration: 144]\n\n\u201cBy the crescent! I never remember anything like it. The dog has the\nmien of a demigod! I am anxious to see him more closely. Etiquette and\npropriety will not permit me to go to him. Namous, saddle Borak, and\nseek Roland. Tell him I shall have much pleasure in seeing him, and\ndon\u2019t fail to bring him.\u201d\n\nThe Prophet\u2019s horse was turned out to graze in the Milky Way. Namous\ncalled him.\n\n\u201cCome here, Borak. You have browsed enough here; you feed too freely,\nand will injure yourself. A peck of stars ought to suffice you for one\nfeed. We have got to descend to earth, and you can hardly stir. If the\nBlessed Prophet knew it----\u201d With that the angel sprang into his saddle,\nand began to ply his spurs. In a quarter of an hour they had left the\nplanets behind them.\n\nWhen Namous alighted, Saragossa was taken and sacked; and Roland was\nwondering how on earth to spend the evening. The angel approached him\nrespectfully and said, \u201cI am Namous, the envoy and familiar minister\nof the Prophet. The Lord of the Iva\u2019abah has noted you chief among the\nChristians, and he desires a visit from you. Be pleased, therefore, to\nfollow me at once.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour master does me a great honour, and one of which many of my\nbrothers in arms are more deserving than I. You must convey to him my\nexcuses, and tell him that I lead a very quiet life; that I have my\nreligious duties to attend to; that, in short, I don\u2019t go much into\nsociety.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Prophet will very justly feel surprised and hurt at such an answer.\nHe will demand of me the real reason of your refusal. Are you afraid you\nmay be led astray by the beauties of his paradise?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf you had known Aude, my beloved Aude, that foolish notion would never\nhave crossed your mind.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you afraid of a trip through the air?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf I thought I might tumble I would set out at once. Fear is a complete\nstranger to me; but I have heard of it so often that I should be anxious\nto make its acquaintance.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are fatigued with your day\u2019s work, perhaps?\u201d\n\n\u201cOffer me an opponent worthy of my sword, and you shall see if it is\npossible to weary Roland.\u201d\n\nThe angel bowed, and prepared to spring into his saddle again. The\nattention of the Count of Mans was attracted by Borak, who fretted,\npranced, champed his bit, and pawed the ground, impatient to return to\nhis celestial stable.\n\n\u201cWhat a fine animal!\u201d said Roland, admiringly.\n\nIn truth, one rarely sees one so handsome. Borak was a fine-limbed,\nhigh-standing horse, strong in frame, and with a coat as glossy as\nmarble which is constantly laved by a fountain. His colour was saffron,\nwith one hair of gold for every three of tawny; his ears were restless,\npointed like a reed; his eyes large, and full of fire; his nostrils\nwide and steaming, with a white star on his forehead, a neck gracefully\narched, and decked with a mane soft and silky enough to make a young\ngirl envious. He had a long, thick tail, that swept the ground.\n\n\u201cIt is the Prophet\u2019s favourite mount. He has sent it in your especial\nhonour.\u201d\n\nRoland was touched at the delicate attention.\n\n\u201cI wished,\u201d continued the angel, \u201cto bring you some quieter animal; but\nMahomet said you were the best rider he knew, and he was sure you would\nbe able to master it. At the same time,\u201d added Namous, treacherously,\n\u201cif it be that which stops you, I can provide you with other means of\ntransport.\u201d\n\nThe Count of Mans simply shrugged his shoulders, and by way of answer\nleaped into the saddle--despite the weight of his armour--without\nsetting foot in stirrup, or putting hand to mane. Borak swerved an\ninstant, then dashed into space, scaling the cloud-mountains at full\ngallop. The angel spread his wings, and took the lead.\n\n[Illustration: 146]\n\nWhen Roland recovered the surprise, he was as high as the constellation\nScorpio. He felt anger would be out of place; so, assuring himself that\nDurandal was at his side, he resigned himself to circumstances.\n\nThe journey was made without difficulty. Only once was the knight in\ndanger of falling, when Borak, scared by a shooting star, which passed\nbetween his legs, almost unseated him with a buck-jump. At length, after\nan ascent of half an hour, the steed paused, while the angel knocked at\nthe largest of the eight gates of Paradise. As soon as it opened Roland\nuttered a cry of admiration.\n\nHow can I--with only human language--describe to you so many superhuman\nwonders? I ought first of all to tell you that all the faculties of our\nbrave knight acquired an immense augmentation on passing the threshold\nof Paradise. His sight, for instance, although good enough, had only\npermitted him on earth to distinguish objects at an inconsiderable\ndistance. Imagine his surprise on beholding clearly and minutely the\nmost tiny creatures six or seven hundred leagues off--and that without\nthe laws of perspective being in the least degree deranged. The same\nthing occurred with regard to hearing and smelling. He used subsequently\nto relate the pleasure with which he smelt the perfume of a flower which\nhad just come in bloom in a neighbouring state, while listening at the\nsame time to the song of a bird which was warbling at the opposite pole.\nHis mind, too, had become so enlarged that he felt no inconvenience from\nthis vastly increased acuteness of the senses. At one glance he gazed\nover two thousand square parasangs of country, each parasang being\nsomething larger than a league. The virgin forests of America are but\nbrushwood compared with those he beheld. On all sides were cities of\nshining whiteness, surmounted by thousands of spires and cupolas of gold\nand silver. At the foot of their walls flowed majestic rivers, in which\nthe Rhine, the Euphrates, and the Nile would have been swallowed\nup. Nothing which troubles the inhabitants of earth existed in this\nenchanted clime. The lion, the tiger, the serpent, and the leopard were\nbut the ornaments of the forest. They fed upon the green herbage, and\nsubmitted to human rule with perfect docility. There was no wind--only\na gentle breeze; no storms--only perfumed showers. It was an Italian\nclimate beneath an Egyptian sky!\n\n[Illustration: 147]\n\nA winged band, commanded by Israfel, the angel of the resurrection, came\nto meet Roland.\n\n[Illustration: 150]\n\n\u201cThe Prophet has sent us to you to announce his approach. Will you\nfollow us, or will you await him here?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will follow you,\u201d said Roland, joining the troop. He saw with wonder\nthat the forests retired to make way for him; the rivers changed their\ncourses on his approach. He wished to assure himself that this was not\na deception of the mirage, and galloped rapidly towards a lake which\nlay beside his route. His horse did not refuse the leap, but the water\nrespectfully drew back, and he alighted on level and thickly-blossomed\nsward.\n\nIsrafel, remarking Roland\u2019s astonishment, said, \u201cThe Prophet has taken\ncare that all here shall do you homage. He is aware that you go through\nlife, as through battle, straight at your mark, and he wished to prove\nthat he knew your tastes and habits.\u201d\n\nRoland continued his progress until he met the procession, when he\nhalted to let it pass. The ground, before he was aware of it, rose\nbeneath his horse\u2019s feet, and he found himself in a minute on a mound,\nfrom which he gazed down on the crowd. Israfel made a sign: two trees at\nonce sprang from the soil, and afforded the knight a pleasant shade. The\nCount of Mans, in silent astonishment, watched the procession without\nstirring.\n\nFirst came a thousand horsemen, each bearing a white and ruby banner,\nand mounted on a white charger. Next to these came a thousand more, clad\nin suits of mail, armed with maces, and riding on bay horses; behind\nthem came two thousand Berbers from the regions of Timbuctoo, who\nbrandished lances with green pennons, and bore sword-proof bucklers\nof rhinoceros hide. Their steeds were as black as their faces. Then\nfollowed three thousand more horsemen, with serpent-skin girdles. They\ncarried hide shields, and had bows hung at their saddle-pommels. Long\nlances, furnished with sharp barbs, gleamed in their hands; their horses\nwere cream-coloured. To these succeeded an army composed of soldiers,\nas many in number as there are drops in the sky; some were armed with\nspears or bills, others with javelins or maces. A hundred paces behind\nthese came eight thousand elephants, in ranks of twenty-five abreast,\nthe first line white, the second black, and so on.\n\n[Illustration: 151]\n\nOn the back of each was a tower, containing twenty armed men. Behind\nthese, again, came thirty white elephants, covered with golden stars,\nand so richly caparisoned you could hardly look at them without winking.\nOn these were borne the favourite wives of the Prophet, twenty on each\nelephant. Canopies of dazzling whiteness, raised upon silver columns,\nshielded them from the sun. Ten thousand chosen warriors formed their\nescort. Last came an endless number of camels, laden with palanquins,\nwhose curtains fluttered in the breeze. Each animal was led by a\nrichly-clad Ethiopian, who held the zimzam, or nose-bridle, in his\nhands. In each palanquin ten houris, far more lovely than anything you\ncan conceive, fluttered their feather fans.\n\n[Illustration: 153]\n\nThen followed twenty thousand dancing girls, attired in light drapery,\nwith bare arms and legs. You saw, as they moved, among their tresses and\nround their necks, coruscations of precious stones, so bright you were\ncompelled to shade your eyes. The bracelets that quivered on their\nwrists, the bangles that gleamed on their ankles, kept up a musical and\nenticing tinkling.\n\nShall I enumerate to you the multitude of female performers on the\nguitar, the tambourine, and the mandolin, and of the singers as well? Of\nwhat use is it to crowd the page with strings of numerals?\n\nThese houris were of no common origin. Mahomet had formed their bodies\nof musk, saffron, amber, and frankincense. Their faces were so radiant\nwith beauty, that they diffused a gentle splendour in the night, like\nthe moon when she mounts above the horizon amid the mists of earth.\nTheir voices were so sweet, that every syllable which fell from their\nlips was precious.\n\nAfter these beauties came the Prophet, attired in a green robe, and\nseated on a white palfrey. He was dressed with the greatest simplicity,\nand far from showily mounted, and yet one felt an inward inclination to\nbend the knee to him as he passed. On his right hand rode his grandsire,\nAbd el Motalleb; on his left his father, Abdallah; and he was surrounded\nby Ali, his cousin and most warm disciple; by Said, his adopted heir;\nby the four sages of Mecca--Waraca, Othman, Obaydallah, and Zaid; by\nthe fiery Omar, the faithful Aboubeker, and thousands of others just as\nfamous.\n\nA hundred thousand horsemen brought up the rear of the cavalcade.\n\nAs the troops took up their positions, the scenery underwent a\ncomplete change, unobserved of Roland, who was absorbed in watching the\nprocession. When he cast a look around him, he beheld himself surrounded\nby mountains whose summits were beyond his ken. These gigantic heights,\nwhich were composed of gneiss, mica, agate, onyx, trap, and porphyry\nwere clothed halfway up by forests whose flora comprised the growths of\nall climes. The vast baobab spread its branches in close contiguity to\nan island of palms, which displayed their delicate foliage against the\nblue sky. The silvery mohonono contrasted well with the dark motsouri;\nthe moupanda-panda of Central Africa, the jacquier of Malacca, the oak\nof Europe, mingled their boughs. Rivers, whose source was hidden in the\nclouds, bounded from rock to rock, flinging up at every obstacle crests\nof feathery spray, spanned by rainbows.\n\n[Illustration: 155]\n\nThe troops occupied positions on the heights. Roland beheld clouds of\nwarriors proudly occupying apparently inaccessible peaks. The elephants\nwere drawn up in two lines, four thousand in each, and the thirty white\nelephants of the Prophet\u2019s favourites were grouped in front of them. And\nnow angels appeared, who, spreading their wide wings, offered their aid\nto enable the six hundred chosen beauties to dismount. They alighted\nclose to the Count of Mans, before whom they bowed low, and then took\ntheir places on a carpet spread for them on his right. The camels came\nnext, and knelt down gently, whereupon the houris sprang from their\npalanquins with a lightness and grace which astonished Roland more than\nall. Their feet hardly left an imprint in the sand. Like the favourites\nof the harem, they also approached Roland, and, kissing the ground\nbefore him, ranged themselves on his left. Then like a flood advanced\nthe troop of celestial dancers, tripping along to the sound of\ncastanets, flutes, theorbos, timbrels, guitars, and mandolins, amid loud\nsinging, accompanied by the most lively strains of music.\n\nThe animation of their movements increased or diminished according to\nthe rhythm, which they marked by accurate beats of the foot and clapping\nof hands, in slow or quick time. Their eyes were now filled with soft\nlanguor--now darted glances of fire. Balancing themselves from the hips,\nthey swung their bodies and waved their arms with ease and grace. At\ntimes a comb, unable to imprison such a wealth of tresses, fell out, and\nfreed locks that were as dark as the night.\n\nBut now the Prophet gave the signal: the dances ceased, and the houris\nflew, like a flock of frightened birds, to take their position opposite\nRoland, and under shelter of the elephants.\n\nMahomet, in his turn, drew nearer to the nephew of Charlemagne,\nwho immediately dismounted--an act of courtesy to age he invariably\nobserved.\n\n\u201cMay Allah, who has made all things of earth and heaven, of day and\nnight, extend his blessing to you in this world and in the one you\ninhabit! You are welcome,\u201d said the Prophet! \u201cI must ask your pardon for\nthe poverty of this reception, as our meeting has been arranged at such\nshort notice that I have only had time to bring as my suite a few of\nmy immediate followers, and the troops which happen to be my guard of\nhonour for the day. Besides, I feared that in surrounding myself with\ntoo great pomp, I might seem to be offering a defiance to a late enemy,\nwhom I only desire to make a friend of. If I have not treated you with\nmore ceremony, it is because I wish to treat you like a brother.\u201d\n\nRoland made a wry face, which the Prophet thought it convenient to\nattribute to the glare of the sun in his eyes, and therefore made a sign\nto four angels, who immediately flew off and spread a rosy cloud before\nthe luminary. .\n\n\u201cI accept your explanation,\u201d said Roland, coolly, half doubting whether\nthe Prophet were not making fun of him. \u201cI have equal need of pardon;\nbut if I have come without a fitting retinue, you must attribute it to\nmy desire to answer your invitation promptly.\u201d\n\nAfter this exchange of courtesies, Roland commenced the conversation by\nsaying, \u201cYou will forgive me if I beg you at once to inform me what it\nis that has obtained me the honour of this interview, as I am in a hurry\nto return to earth. I mount guard to-night in the Emperor\u2019s tent, and I\nnever like to fail in the performance of duty.\u201d\n\n\u201cNever fear,\u201d said Mahomet; \u201cI\u2019ll have the sun put back. We have all\ntime for our interview.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am all attention.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is not a more valiant knight than you living. Your single arm is\nworth an army. Your judgment is sound, your decision speedy----\u201d\n\n\u201cHow much do you expect for this panegyric? I warn you, before you\ngo any further, not to set too high a price on it, as I have a clear\nestimate of my modest worth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am in the habit of giving far more than I get, so fear not, but\nsuffer me to proceed. In my youth I was called El Amin--\u2018the Safe Man.\u2019\nI know that I possess a generous soul, and that none can be more loyal\nthan you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThis eulogy is evidently the prologue of some treason you are going to\nask of me.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf it be treason to leave a bad cause for a good one, to renounce\nattempts which are futile, and to accept good fortune when it is\noffered, I have, in effect, treason to propose to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the Trinity! but you are putting a high price on compliments for\nwhich nobody asked you!\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear by the holy mountain--by the temple of pilgrimage--by the vault\nof heaven and the depths of ocean--that the divine vengeance is about\nto fall! nothing can delay it. The convulsed skies shall totter! the\nuprooted mountains shall move! I swear by the resting-place of the\nstar--\u201d\n\n\u201cOf a truth, here is plenty of fine words!\u201d said Roland, shrugging his\nshoulders. \u201cWhen we gallant Christian knights make a statement, they\nbelieve us without our having to call in the aid of the sky, and sea,\nand stars.\u201d\n\n\u201cAs surely as I overthrew the three idols of Mecca, Lata, Aloza, and\nMen\u00e2t, the Christians shall be driven from Spain, and their lands\ninvaded. Their army shall be dispersed, and shall fly shamefully. Their\nhour is come, and it will be bitter and terrible.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have read all that in the Koran,\u201d answered Roland, who felt his\npatience failing him. \u201cBut that does not say what you want of me, or why\nyou are thus wasting my time. Since the future is revealed to you,\nand you are so certain of our approaching overthrow, there can be no\nobstacle to my returning to my post.\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, the future is ours. You alone delay the coming of the day of\nglory. We shall conquer, but while you live it will be only at the price\nof terrible sacrifices that we can purchase victory. Why persist\nin returning to a world in which death awaits you? I offer you the\nsovereignty of this realm, its wealth, its women, its warriors. The\ninhabitants of air, earth, and water, the stars which move in the\nfirmament--all that is gifted with reason or instinct, essence and\nmatter--in one word, everything shall belong to you and owe to you\nunreserved obedience. If the sun annoys you, the moon shall take its\nplace. Give but the sign, and rivers shall dry up to let you pass. A\npopulation more vast than all the nations of earth put together shall\nlive only to serve you. These warriors are brave.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf what use is their bravery if they have no enemies to contend with?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese horses are more swift than the wind.\u201d\n\n\u201cOf what service is their speed, since there is here no goal that I\ndesire to reach?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese women are lovely.\u201d\n\n\u201cTheir beauty is sheer waste, for I do not love them!\u201d\n\n\u201cDurandal is famous on earth, and yet the humblest of these soldiers\ncould cut it in two with the edge of his poniard.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough!\u201d interposed Roland. \u201cI have already told you I am in a hurry.\nYou have not, I imagine, the impudence to suppose you are rich enough in\nwonders to induce me to commit a base action--your Allah himself would\nbe ashamed of such a thing. You have told me I am the bravest of living\nknights: should I be so if I feared the death you threaten me with? \u2018My\nsingle arm is worth a whole army,\u2019 you add. Have I any right, then, to\ndeprive my comrades of its aid at that moment, of all others, when you\nprofess that they are in danger? \u2018My judgment is sound:\u2019 allow me\nto offer you a further proof of it by laughing at your menaces, and\npredicting your complete overthrow. Mahomet and Jupiter will soon meet\nand shake hands, and the crescent will be sent where the old moons go.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will not listen?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have heard too much already!\u201d\n\n\u201cBehold these lovely creatures, who stretch out their arms towards you!\n\n\u201cThey but make me see how far lovelier my Aude is.\u201d\n\n\u201cSee the lands I offer you!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat is a region of wonders compared with the spot where a man was\nborn?\u201d\n\n\u201cRoland, by the faith of Mahomet! you shall never again behold the land\nof France!\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a Christian, besides being a Frenchman. The native land to which\nI aspire is Heaven, and that birthplace you cannot prevent me from\nbeholding once more.\u201d\n\n\u201cInfidel hound!\u201d said the Prophet, \u201cI----\u201d But the words were such\nas Roland could not listen to patiently. Mahomet did not finish his\nsentence, for the gauntlet of the knight smote him on the mouth.\n\n[Illustration: 159]\n\n[Illustration: 160]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER X. WHEN ROLAND REMEMBERS HIS LATIN, AND THE DEVIL FORGETS HIS.\n\nI AM unable to tell you what followed. Even Roland had no clear\nrecollection. When he recovered his senses, he rose and cast his\neyes round him, to find himself in the midst of a vast sandy plain,\nstretching on all sides to the horizon. The sun poured its hostile\nrays upon him so fiercely, that in a few minutes his armour became\ninsupportably hot. The atmosphere was so charged with electricity,\nthat the plume of his helmet crackled, and gave out sparks. In vain he\nsearched the horizon for a place of shelter--there was nothing to be\nseen but level plain and blue sky. Gigantic red ants came and went\nbusily--they were the only occupants of this desert. All of a sudden he\nbeheld before him in the distance white mosques, knots of palms, and\na sea-port with some vessels at anchor, and others sailing out of the\nharbour. He saw, too, long caravans, which journeyed to the city gates.\n\nRoland felt his courage revive, and set out in the direction of the\ncity. But he did not appear to come any the closer to it; he took to\nrunning until he fell down with fatigue on the burning sand. Then the\ncity seemed to turn of a yellow hue, the blue of the sea grew paler, and\nwas lost in that of the sky; the trees vanished, and the Count of Mans\nfound himself once more alone in the desert.\n\n\u201cWhy come to a halt?\u201d said he to himself. \u201cBetter move forward in any\ndirection at hap-hazard. I can only gain by the change.\u201d\n\nHe rose, determined to struggle on as long as his limbs would sustain\nhim. What was his surprise to see, in an opposite direction to that he\nhad just been pursuing, a mountain covered with verdure, on the summit\nof which stood a castle! Three walls of circumvallation surrounded it.\nAt the foot of each flowed a river covered with vessels of war. Three\nhanging ladders of marvellous workmanship united the three platforms of\nthe fortress, and four bastions guarded the approach to each ladder.\n\n[Illustration: 161]\n\nRoland once more pushed on; but as he advanced, the fortress rose into\nthe skies, until, after about an hour\u2019s walking, he found himself with\nnothing before him save the blank horizon of the desert. Then despair\nseized him. He sank on his knees, crossed himself, and shed four tears,\nthe first he had ever wept. They fell on the sand, and there formed four\nsprings for a stream of cool and clear water. Roland received from this\nnew vigour, and having rendered thanks to Providence, he was preparing\nto move forward, when he remarked with surprise a great stirring of the\nsand. Little clouds of dust began to rise in all directions, although\nthere was not a breath stirring. Then the sand began to whirl round\nincessantly, marking a great circle at a short distance from our hero.\n\nAs it began to whirl, it heaped itself up, drawn towards the centre\nby some strange force of attraction. You would have said that some\ngigantic polypus was sucking up all the sand of the desert. After a few\nminutes there mounted, still eddying round, a huge column, which grew as\nRoland watched it, until the summit was lost to sight in the sky. A hot\nwind, like the harmattan of the Guinea coast, rose and drove the sand\nbefore it in clouds. The sun turned red as molten iron.\n\nThe pillar of sand at last lost its equilibrium, and fell with a\nhorrible rushing sound. Roland closed his eyes, but he did not recoil.\nHearing a great roar of laughter, he instinctively clutched his sword by\nthe hilt. What he saw next induced him to draw it from its sheath.\n\nThe sand, in falling, had reared a mound, the base of which formed an\nenormous circle, in the centre of which Roland perceived, with surprise,\na huge monster buried in sand to his waist. It was Eblis, the Devil of\nthe East.\n\n[Illustration: 162]\n\nHis Majesty was a hundred feet in height, which is a respectable size,\neven for a demon of the highest rank. His black skin, striped with red,\nwas covered with small scales, which made it glisten like armour. His\nhair was so long and curly, a snake might have lost its way in it. His\nflat nose was pierced with a ring of admirable workmanship, as you see\ndone to the wild bulls of the Roman Campagna. His white teeth, set with\nprecious stones, gave to his smile a very variegated appearance. His\nsmall eyes assumed, one after the other, all the prismatic colours,\nwhich made it impossible to sustain his gaze. His ears, which exactly\nresembled those of an elephant, flapped on his shoulders; but he had,\nto make up for it, a tail sixty feet long, terminating in a hooked claw,\nwhich could have wielded the Monument easily as a toothpick.\n\nEblis had no other covering than his wings, which were large, soft,\nand marvellously pliable, and in which he delighted to wrap himself.\nConceive, further, that a phosphorescent gleam played incessantly over\nthe monster\u2019s skin, and you will easily understand why Roland unsheathed\nDurandal.\n\nEblis was writhing with laughter.\n\n\u201cI haven\u2019t roared so through all eternity, upon my honour! Here, I say,\nmy little man, do you know you have just done a master-stroke?\u201d\n\nThis familiar tone displeased Roland.\n\n\u201cI have just met Mahomet,\u201d continued Eblis, \u201cand you have broken five of\nhis front teeth. I have seen a good many prophets in my time, but I vow,\non the faith of the accursed, I never saw one in such a rage. I have, in\nhonour of the blow, given three days\u2019 holiday in the infernal regions.\nThere will be concerts, balls, hunts, and theatres. I have had written,\nby one of our best authors, a little comedy in the style of Apollodorus,\nin the last scene of which Mahomet receives a hundred strokes of the\nbastinado. I have given orders to an army of cooks; you can hear even\nhere a rattle of stew-pans altogether refreshing. I will undertake to\nlet you see we are not so backward in this respect as people pretend.\nYou will meet with many old friends among the guests; we have quite\na crowd of visitors just now. My wife, who is a lively one, will be\ndelighted to make your acquaintance. Come, let me present you to her as\nthe best of my friends.\u201d\n\n\u201cBabbler!\u201d exclaimed Roland, but little flattered at these marks of\nfriendship. \u201cWhat right have you to address me in this style?\u201d\n\nEblis, who was not accustomed to be treated so cavalierly, was dumb with\nsurprise for a moment.\n\n\u201cBy my father\u2019s horns!\u201d said he, at last, \u201cI must have misunderstood\nyou. Give me your hand, Roland, to disabuse me of the error.\u201d\n\nHe stretched out his tail to the knight, who, however, only drew back a\nfew steps.\n\n\u201cWhat, puny wretch!\u201d shrieked Eblis, turning as white with rage as it\nwas possible for one so black to do. \u201cI shall send you back to earth. Do\nyou think I am of the same stuff as Mahomet?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut here Roland flung his second gauntlet in the demon\u2019s face.\n\n\u201cThat makes the pair!\u201d said the nephew of Charlemagne, placing himself\nin an attitude of defence.\n\n\u201cZacoum Zimzim Galarabak!\u201d shouted Eblis, mad with fury. (You must\nknow that is the most terrible oath that can be uttered in the Saracen\ntongue.) The earth shook and gaped at Roland\u2019s feet. He felt himself\nlaunched into space. His armour suddenly became icy cold.\n\n\u201cIf I get back without an attack of rheumatism I shall be lucky,\u201d said\nthe knight.\n\nHe heard around him the flapping of wings; it was a troop of afreets and\ndjins.\n\n\u201cReflect, Roland. There is yet time. Mahomet is prepared to forgive\nyou.\u201d\n\nAll the answer Roland vouchsafed was the intoning of the canticle--\n\n\u201cSub tuum Fr\u00e6sidium confugimus.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn a few moments your body will be dashed to pieces on earth. Remember\nthe wondrous things the Prophet offered to share with you.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Sancta Dei genitrix; nostras deprecationes ne despicias_,\u201d continued\nRoland. And now it seemed to him that, instead of falling at hazard, he\nwas being gently carried. The chorus of afreets and djins was left far\nbehind, but he still heard the sound of pinions.\n\n[Illustration: 163]\n\n\u201cSet your mind at rest,\u201d said a voice so exquisitely musical that Roland\ntrembled to hear it. \u201cI am the Archangel Michael. Our Blessed Lady has\nsent me to preserve you. She had been touched by your constancy and\ncourage. Repose in safety on my wings, and we shall soon reach earth.\u201d\n\nAnd, in truth, in a few minutes\u2019 time the Count of Mans, to his\nastonishment, found himself before Saragossa. He was at prayer in his\ntent when he heard the voice of Miton.\n\n\u201cMy dear Roland, where are you?\u201d cried the Count of Rennes, anxiously.\n\n\u201cHere I am,\u201d said the knight, hurrying to his friend.\n\n[Illustration: 166]\n\n\u201cCharlemagne, who knows how punctual you are, seeing you were ten\nminutes behind your time to take on your guard, has sent to look for you\nin every direction. You are pale, my dear Count; what has happened to\nyou?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you all about it,\u201d said Roland, as he hastened to his post\nnear the Emperor.\n\n\nEND OF THE SECOND BOOK.\n\n\n\n\nBOOK THE THIRD -- THE FORTRESS OF FEAR.\n\n[Illustration: 169]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER I. THE FOUR FOES OF CROQUEMITAINE.\n\nCHARLEMAGNE had an excellent memory. He never omitted to ponder over the\ndangers to which Mitaine was exposed at every turn. He had the scene of\nthe late ambush carefully searched by his spies in the first place, and\nafterwards by his soldiers. All, on their return, made the same report.\nThey said the forest was inhabited, and there was a good deal of talk\nabout a castle called \u201cThe Fortress of Fear,\u201d which was to be found\nsomewhere in the neighbourhood, although nobody they met with had seen\nit. None, however, doubted its existence. If a child disappeared, or\nany cattle were carried off, the trembling peasants said, \u201cThe Lord of\nFear-fortress had taken them.\u201d If a fire broke out anywhere, it was the\nLord of Fear-fortress who must have lit it. The origin of all accidents,\nmishaps, catastrophes, or disasters was traced to the mysterious owner\nof this invisible castle.\n\n\u201cI should like to have the mystery cleared up,\u201d said Charlemagne to\nhimself. \u201cI can hardly resign myself to the belief that it is Ganelon,\nmy old brother-in-arms.\u201d\n\nHe called his knights together.\n\n\u201cMy faithful champions, I need four of you for a perilous adventure, I\nknow not where I am sending you--I know not whether you will return. Who\nwill risk death for my good favour?\u201d\n\nAll the knights at once flung themselves at his feet, each entreating\nthe Emperor to honour him with his choice.\n\n\u201cYou place me in a difficult position,\u201d said the Emperor, greatly moved;\n\u201cI see that chance must point out the four champions. I can without fear\ntrust to it, for you are all equally brave.\u201d\n\nThe names of all the knights present were put into a helmet, and Mitaine\nplayed the part of Destiny to the best of her power, little thinking she\nwas choosing her own champions and avengers. The first name she called\nout was that of Allegrignac of Cognac, Count of Salen\u00e7on and Saintonge.\n\n\u201cThe lot suits me admirably,\u201d said the Emperor, giving a friendly wave\nof his hand to the knight. \u201cYou know the language of the country, and\nwill be a safe guide for your companions.\u201d\n\nMitaine next named the Baron of Mont-Rognon, Lord of Bourglastic,\nTortebesse, and elsewhere.\n\n\u201cThis is indeed a capital choice! There is no stouter arm in the\nArvennes than yours; and if there be a postern to be burst open by a\npowerful shoulder, you will be there, Mont-Rognon.\u201d\n\n\u201cPorc-en-Truie, Lord of Machavoine,\u201d cried Mitaine.\n\n\u201cI am in luck to-day, by St. James! You are known to be experienced,\nPorc-en-Truie, and you will conduct the adventure, I entrust to you, to\na prosperous end, I feel sure. But I am curious to know who is my fourth\nchampion.\u201d\n\n\u201cMaragougnia, Count of Rioin,\u201d said Mitaine.\n\n\u201cNow we have wisdom, strength, and cunning. Maragougnia can give the\nserpent points at wisdom, and beat him. If I do not succeed with such\nknights I shall despair altogether.\u201d\n\nCharlemagne withdrew with his four champions, told them of the perils\nto which his god-child had been exposed, the investigation he had\ninstituted, the suspicions he had entertained; and finally, he spoke of\nthe Fortress of Fear, winding up in these terms:--\n\n\u201cI am anxious to square accounts with this Croquemitaine. You will pass\nthrough the forest till you arrive at Alagon, a little hamlet on the\nbanks of the Ebro. There you will inquire for the Fonda del Ca\u00efman,\nor, if you prefer it, the sign of the Crocodile. You will there rest\nyourselves for a short time, and then set out on your quests. You,\nAllegrignac, striking off from the river, will pursue your course\ntowards Pampeluna. You, Mont-Rognon, will proceed in the direction of\nCatalyud; and look out for the Saracens, my friend, who on that side\nare disgusted enough with the trouble we have given them. You,\nPorc-en-Truie, will make for Fuentes. If you are guided by me, you will\ntravel by night only, and conceal yourself carefully by day. You will\nappreciate my counsel when once you are on the road. You, finally, my\ngallant Maragougnia, will have to direct your steps towards Lerida,\nbut you will not go beyond the river Alcander. I have reserved this\nexpedition for you because it is the most hazardous--there, you need\nnot thank me. I understand you! Quarter the country in every direction,\nand find out for me this Fortress of Fear. He who brings me the head of\nits dreaded lord shall be created a baron and peer of my realm.\u201d\n\nThe Emperor replenished the purses of his champions, and took leave\nof them with an embrace. When they\u2019 found themselves alone they\ninterchanged looks of bewilderment.\n\n\u201cWhat do you think of that?\u201d said Porc-en-Truie, with a grimace.\n\n\u201cThat I shall be a duke,\u201d said Allegrignac, cutting a caper. \u201cThis\nadventure won\u2019t take me a minute!\u201d\n\n\u201cTo think that we must set out to-night!\u201d said Mont-Rognon, in tones\nof regret; \u201cand to think that I have ordered a splendid supper for\nto-night, which my fellows will get the benefit of!\u201d\n\n\u201cTo think that we shall none of us ever come back again!\u201d said\nMaragougnia, in a melancholy voice, as he wiped away a tear with the\nsleeve of his chain-mail.\n\n\u201cPshaw! who knows?\u201d broke in Porc-en-Truie, with a smile. \u201cLet us set\nout, and then we can see!\u201d\n\nThey appointed to meet on the borders of the forest, and within an hour\nafterwards they\u2019 were all on the spot, equipped for war or for travel.\n\nPorc-en-Truie, Lord of Machavoine, was a great fellow of thirty years of\nage, more skilled in avoiding blows than in dealing them. He invariably\nshirked all his military duties, not because he was a coward, but\nbecause he was incorrigibly idle. He had been known to tramp three hours\nafoot to save himself the trouble of saddling his horse, and he had\nkilled his dearest friend in a tournament, in order to terminate a long\nand fatiguing tilting match. He arrived at the rendezvous on horseback,\nwith no weapon but his sword.\n\n\u201cHow imprudent!\u201d cried Allegrignac, the moment he saw him coming. \u201cAre\nwe going to a wedding only, or are you desirous of emulating Miton\u2019s\ngreat feat at the Tourney of Fronsac?\u201d\n\n\u201cI hate a load of weapons, and I don\u2019t mean to kill myself for\nthis Mitaine--for whom, between you and me, I don\u2019t care a grain of\nmustard-seed!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 172]\n\nAllegrignac of Cognac, Count of Salen\u00e7on, was twenty-five years of age,\nand six feet six high. He had an open countenance, a stout heart,\nan untiring tongue, limbs of steel, a stomach of leather, and a very\nslender patrimony. His hair was curly, his teeth were white. He was\nas proud as a Spaniard, as brave as a Frenchman, as simple-minded as\na goose. He was possessed of a pleasant contralto voice, a cheerful\nspirit, and a grey horse called Serenade.\n\nPicture to yourself a figure clad in complete steel, and with weapons of\nvast weight, like one of those armed and bandy-legged giants you see\nin a procession of trades, capable of lifting enormous weights, not to\nmention cattle, and any other unconsidered trifles he could lay hands\non, and you have a portrait of the Baron of Mont-Rognon, Lord of\nBourglastic, Tortebesse, and elsewhere. This huge mass of muscle existed\nonly to eat and drink. He was a descendant of Esau on his father\u2019s side,\nand of Gargantua on his mother\u2019s. He once performed a gigantic feat--he\nkilled six hundred Saracens who happened to get in his way as he was\ngoing to dinner. He had an elastic stomach, and a mouth armed with four\nrows of teeth.\n\nHaving described his stomach and his mouth,\n\nI need not go on with the likeness, for all that remained were mere\nincidental appurtenances.\n\nHe arrived third at the place of meeting, leading by the halter a mule\nladen with provisions and bottles.\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s this?\u201d said Allegrignac, laughingly.\n\n\u201cThat!\u201d said Mont-Rognon, offended at his bluntness. \u201cThat\u2019s supper.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat\u2019s the use of that?\u201d said Porc-en-Truie.\n\nMont-Rognon the Monstrous.\n\nMont-Rognon in a hurry for his dinner\n\n\u201cCharlemagne has ordered us to perish for him,\u201d broke in the Lord of\nBourglastic, \u201cbut he did not stipulate that we should perish of hunger.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 173]\n\nMaragougnia, Count of Riom, was the last to arrive. He was equipped in\nthe most gloomy style. His armour was of browned steel, sprinkled with\nsilver tears. From the coronet that surmounted his helmet sprang a few\nmangy black feathers, which drooped over his shoulders like the branches\nof a weeping willow, and all the rest of his accoutrements were to\nmatch.\n\nHe had one extraordinary quality, which was his strong point--instead of\nmaking him lose his head, fear only gave him increased presence of\nmind. They related deeds of prowess of his which were, in reality,\nonly prodigies of cowardice. He did everything with a profound air\nof melancholy. His first wife, they say, died of yawning; the second\nperished of sheer weariness in three weeks.\n\nBehind him came a page, who might be considered to have originated the\nsombre livery worn nine hundred years later by the page of the Duchess\nof Marlborough.*\n\n     * Vide \u201cMalbrouck:\u201d--\n\n     \u201cElle voit venir son page\n     De unir tout habill\u00e9.\u201d\n\nThis lugubrious squire bore the count\u2019s change of arms--to wit: two\ndaggers of mercy; three swords, various; one lance; one helmet; one\nmorion; two daggers, poisoned; one battle-axe; one flail, iron; one\nshield; one breastplate; one shirt of mail; two pairs of gauntlets;\nthree pairs of spurs.\n\n\u201cGood heavens!\u201d said Allegrignac; \u201care we going to equip all the\nnation for war? Look, Porc-en-Truie! the Count of Riom has stripped the\narmouries of his ten castles.\u201d\n\n\u201cI wouldn\u2019t stir an inch,\u201d said Porc-en-Truie, in the interval of a\ncouple of yawns, \u201cto assure myself that Maragougnia has done something\nsilly. If you assured me to the contrary, I might perhaps be surprised\ninto getting up to see. And yet no! I couldn\u2019t believe it; so I should\nstay where I was.\u201d\n\nPorc-en-Truie, I must observe, sat himself down on the grass the moment\nhe arrived.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019re quite welcome to laugh at my prudence,\u201d said Maragougnia, \u201cbut I\ndon\u2019t forget we are going to certain death.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertain death! Fiddlesticks! I mean yet to rival the Methusalems of the\nperiod,\u201d said Porc-en-Truie, rising. \u201cAnd now let\u2019s be off, if we are to\nreach Alagon to-night.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo prepare for death,\u201d said Maragougnia, dashing away a tear with his\ngauntlet.\n\n\u201cTo go to sleep,\u201d said Porc-en-Truie, with a yawn.\n\n\u201cTo try a throw with the dice,\u201d said Allegrignac, jingling the money in\nhis purse.\n\n\u201cTo make a good supper,\u201d said Mont-Rognon, with a hollow voice, gnashing\nhis teeth like castanets.\n\nIn ten minutes the four knights had entered the wood. At sunset\nAlleericmac was hammering with his fist at the door of the Fonda del\nCa\u00efman.\n\n[Illustration: 174]\n\n[Illustration: 175]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER II. THE SIGN OF THE CROCODILE.\n\nTHE innkeeper was a man of middle size, half Spaniard and half Moor,\nwith a big body and thin leys, a brown skin and grey eyes. He had\nacquired considerable reputation in the district for his mode of\ndressing calves\u2019 feet with saffron, and his handiness in stabbing people\nin the right place. He made everything a matter of trade, and used to\nregret that he had inherited no religious opinions which he could have\nabjured at a fixed price to be got either from the Saracens or the\nChristians. For the rest, he was a most obliging host, provided your\npurse was well supplied; and I believe I shall put the finishing stroke\nto the likeness when I say he was the biggest robber in all Spain, from\nPontevedra to Girone.\n\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9 opened the door. One is always forgetting something, and I\nforgot to tell you his name was Ali P\u00e9p\u00e9.\n\n\u201cWhere\u2019s the landlady?\u201d asked Allegrignac, twisting his moustache.\n\n\u201cI want a bed,\u201d yawned Porc-en-Truie.\n\n\u201cSome supper!\u201d growled Mont-Rognon.\n\nMaragougnia said nothing. He was absorbed in studying the inn, and the\nestimate he formed seemed far from satisfactory.\n\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9 stood on the defensive, blocking the entrance of the inn.\n\n\u201cYour lordships appear of too exalted a station for me to omit to inform\nyou that you will find the accommodation here very unsuited to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere\u2019s frankness and disinterestedness! But where can we find better\naccommodation?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 176]\n\n\u201cMy inn is the only one in the district.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen make way for us,\u201d said Mont-Rognon, catching up Ali Pope by the\ngirdle, and carrying him in at arm\u2019s length into the kitchen. \u201cWe shall\nbe able to converse better here!\u201d Maragougnia entered last. He tried\nall the locks, in order to see whether the doors closed securely. He\nexamined all the outlets, sounded the panels, and ordered his squire to\nbring him his arms.\n\n\u201cWe want four beds,\u201d said Porc-en-Truie.\n\n\u201cIn the same room,\u201d said Maragougnia, who had a horror of being\nsolitary.\n\n\u201cFirst of all we want supper,\u201d bellowed Mont-Rognon; \u201cdon\u2019t let us\nforget the most important of our wants.\u201d\n\n\u201cA modest supper,\u201d suggested Maragougnia, who was afraid of the expense.\n\n\u201cA modest supper!\u201d bellowed the Lord of Bourglastic. \u201cDon\u2019t you do\nanything of the kind, landlord, or I\u2019ll burn the place about your ears.\nEmpty your poultry-yard, drag your fish-ponds, uncork your bottles; set\nto work--kill, pluck, draw, and broach,--in short, make ready, to the\nbest of your power, a feast for an emperor or a sultan!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will lay for me separately,\u201d said the Count of Riom, tearfully, \u201ca\nfew radishes and some wine of first-rate----\u201d\n\n\u201cCheapness,\u201d kindly suggested Allegrignac, with a smile.\n\n\u201cMay I know whom I have the honour to serve?\u201d said Ali P\u00e9p\u00e9, with a bow\nso respectful that Maragougnia was horrified to see it, fearing it would\nbe included in the bill.\n\n\u201cNothing easier,\u201d said Allegrignac, returning Ali\u2019s bow. \u201cThe short\ngentleman you see there is Purveyor-in-Chief to Charlemagne and all the\ncrowned heads of the civilised world, from Armenia to Lusitania, from\nScandinavia to Tripoli. He travels from district to district in search\nof new dishes to delight the royal tables. His dissertation on roasts is\nin everybody\u2019s mouth. He has proved satisfactorily that beef ought not\nto be taken from the spit until the meat begins to turn brown and show\nthe gravy; that mutton should be taken from the fire as soon as it\nbegins to redden; and that veal should not be dished up until the meat\nis quite white. This man, who seems so unpretending, has discovered that\nthirst is fostered by currents of air; that the Scythians have stomachs\nan inch smaller than the Germans have; but then, on the other hand,\ndeeper by seven times than those of the Cimmerians. He was the first who\nfried carp in rose-water; and he has, at last, after long and wearisome\nresearch, found in an old manuscript the recipe for garum, which was\nso highly prized by the ancients, but was thought to be lost. He has\nconfided the secret to me, and I reveal it to you, in the hope that it\nwill incite you to give us a better supper. Learn then, profane wretch!\nthat in order to prepare this dainty dish, you must let a hen-mackerel\nlie in pickle with small mushrooms for seventeen nights at the full of\nthe moon. The inside must be removed carefully, pounded, soaked, and\nbraized with religious care in a bag of rose-coloured silk--and mind, it\nmust be rose-coloured. The liquor thus procured is gathered in a silver\nvessel, when the weather is fine--or stormy. It must be left to settle\nfor three weeks and seven hours, after having been mixed with a\npreparation, of which I forget the composition, but which is the chief\ningredient, and gives all the value to the dish. You see with whom you\nhave to deal: be sure, therefore, that the repast is worthy of this\ngreat dignitary and of us!\u201d\n\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9 bowed.\n\n\u201cThat gentleman who is snoring yonder travels in the hope of introducing\nsome improvement into the royal sleeping arrangements. No one knows\nbetter than he the wisest adjustment of counterpanes, quilts, blankets,\nbolsters, pillows, and valances. His comparative treatise, entitled\n\u2018Lectus cubilaris, Lucubratorius, Emortualis, Genialis et Decubitorius,\u2019\nhas been engrossed on vellum by the monks of Monte Casino. To him\nbelongs the honour of superseding the sack of maize-straw by the\ndown-bed, which he imported from Cimbria; as also that of adding a\nsecond mattress to the sleeping-tackle of Royalty, which used to consist\nsolely of a ticken, a pillow, and a bundle of straw. You see, therefore,\nthat you must be careful to lodge us well for the night.\u201d\n\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9 made another low bow.\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t like talking about myself,\u201d said Allegrignac, \u201cbut for this\nonce I will yield to your importunity, ami inform you who I am. You\nmust surely have heard of the great giantess\nAlcomiroziropoulopilousitounitapignac!\u201d\n\nThe landlord eyed the Count of Salgoon askance for awhile, then,\nresigning himself to his fate, he made an assenting gesture.\n\n\u201cShe was my mother,\u201d said Allegrignac. \u201cShe perished after six: years of\nmarried happiness, murdered by my unhappy father, who was never tired\nof beating her. Disgusted with matrimony--and not without cause--she\ndetermined to live single. I came into the world within twelve months\nafterwards, and chose the profession of arms. My fortune, my noble\nbirth--everything assured me that I must owe everything to my own\nprowess. I cheerfully accepted my lot, and crossed the Alps to avenge\nmy father. I laid siege to Toulouse. Need I continue to relate my\nmisfortunes?\u201d\n\n\u201cNot on my account, my lord. The particulars you have just related\nsuffice to inform me with whom I have to deal. I have only to ask you\nwho the fourth warrior of your party is?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis weeping willow----\u201d\n\n\u201cI am a poor devil of a wanderer in search of fortune,\u201d hastily\ninterposed Maragougnia. \u201cMy wants are as modest as my means: I know how\nto be satisfied with little.\u201d\n\n\u201cI treat my customers according to their tastes and their purses,\u201d said\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9. \u201cYou have, noble sirs, asked for a good many things. I will\nnow give you a sketch of the accommodation I have to offer. I have but\none room and one bed to let----\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll take it, then,\u201d said Porc-en-Truie, promptly: \u201cI wouldn\u2019t sleep\nout of doors to-night for the world. I shall not resume my journey till\nto-morrow. In the meantime, though, if either of you wishes to have half\nthe bed----\u201d\n\n\u201cThanks, I shall push on to-night,\u201d said Maragougnia, as he left the\nroom to find his squire, and tell him not to give the horses a feed.\n\u201cThey will find grazing on the road,\u201d he remarked.\n\n\u201cAs for me,\u201d said Mont-Rognon, \u201cI give up the room to you with all my\nheart. I intend to spend the night in eating. I shall not start till\nto-morrow morning.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll keep you company till then,\u201d said Allegrignac; \u201cwe have a few\nbottles and an old dispute to settle. You owe me a dozen, and I\u2019ll bet\nyou that you\u2019ll be under the table by the ninth. I feel just in the\nhumour for the trial to-day.\u201d\n\nA scornful smile was the only answer vouchsafed by Mont-Rognon, who\nturned to the host, and asked, \u201cWhat soup do you think you can give us?\u201d\n\n\u201cCan your lordship put up with pomegranate soup?\u201d\n\n\u201cLet us see the pomegranates.\u201d\n\nAli ran to his larder, and returned with a basket-full of fruit.\nMont-Rognon selected a dozen.\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t forget to serve it up warm, and with a slice or two of orange in\nit. What next?\u201d\n\n\u201cIf your lordship will leave it to me, you shall have no reason to\ncomplain. I have been head cook to the King of Mesopotamia for ten\nyears, and His Majesty told me, only eight days since, that he has no\npleasure in eating now I have left him. I would suggest, for soups,\npomegranate, water-gruel, and ortolan; for entrees, calves\u2019 feet and\nsaffron, and fillet of venison with sweetbreads. For the next course,\nchicken _farci a la Madame R\u00e2p\u00e9e_, heron garnished with woodcocks, roast\nsucking-pig with cameline sauce.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like well enough a quarter of whale served up on a layer of\neggs,\u201d said Allegrignac, carelessly.\n\n\u201cYou might have had it this morning. Unfortunately, they had the last of\nit for King Marsillus to-day.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will give us, instead, a peacock. You will stuff it with chestnuts\nand saffron, and serve it up with fennel and powdered sugar.\u201d\n\n\u201cI can also offer your lordships dory with orange-juice, and lampreys\nwith lily sauce.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that all?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes, sir. The bill of fare is simple, but select!\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, by Lenten fasts! you want to starve us to death,\u201d said\nMont-Rognon. \u201cYou must improve this poor fare, Master Head Cook of the\nKing of Mesopotamia. Let us have ragout of venison, salt quarter of\nhare, preserved cabbage, pur\u00e9e of foreign figs _\u00e0 la Sardanapale_, pigs\u2019\nchitterlings with sweet wine sauce, and ribs of beef in honey. Now, be\noff to your kitchen, and if we want anything else, we\u2019ll let you know.\u201d\n\nAli made a low bow, and was about to leave the room.\n\n\u201cOne word more,\u201d said Allegrignac. \u201cDon\u2019t forget to send up the roasts\non the spit, and, above all, be particular about the wine Don\u2019t be\nafraid of sending up plenty of bottles.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd, stay, landlord!\u201d said Porc-en-Truie, \u201cas you go you can show me my\nroom. Farewell, Allegrignac! Your hand, Mont-Rognon! Good luck to you,\nMaragougnia! I shall be asleep, no doubt, when you start. I trust you\nwill succeed, and take back to the Emperor what he wishes.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe shall be sufficiently fortunate if we take back a whole skin!\u201d\n sighed the Count of Riom, preparing to depart.\n\nIn the next chapter you will see how the four knights set about the\naccomplishment of Charlemagne\u2019s wishes.\n\n[Illustration: 180]\n\n[Illustration: 181]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER III. HOW ALLEGRIGNAC, MARAGOUGNIA, PORC-EN-TRUIE, AND\nMONT-ROGNON OPENED THE CAMPAIGN.\n\nPORC-EN-TRUIE followed Ali, who conducted him to the first floor, where\nthey entered a chamber that was shabby enough in appearance in all\nconscience.\n\n\u201cAre you silly enough to think of putting me to sleep here?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the best room in the inn. King Marsillus slept here the day----\u201d\n\n\u201cCome! I hope you are not going to talk more absurdity of that kind to\nme. Learn to understand better those with whom you have to deal. Where\u2019s\nthe bed?\u201d\n\n\u201cYonder, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat a bed! By the beard of Solomon! what you have the impudence to\ncall a bed would have horrified Job himself, and he passes for a person\nnot easily dissatisfied. What is all that hanging about the curtains?\u201d\n\n\u201cThose are cobwebs,\u201d said Ali, with an air of satisfaction. \u201cWe take\nthem down when our customers wish it, but they never do.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is that?\u201d asked Porc-en-Truie.\n\n\u201cWhy, you see,\u201d said the other, quietly, \u201cthe spider is insectivorous.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you dare bring me here?\u201d asked Porc-en-Truie, pale with rage. \u201cI\ndare swear to your lordship there is not a better bed in the house.\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me see yours;\u201d and the knight seized the landlord, and made him\nconduct him to his own bedroom. It was not palatial by any means, but\nall was clean and neat in the host\u2019s room, and the bed looked inviting.\n\n\u201cHow, rogue! you would sleep in this lordly bed without a scruple, while\nI am served as food for the spiders you rear! Leave the room, and thank\nHeaven that you leave it by the door instead of the window!\u201d\n\nThe Lord of Machavoine thrust the landlord out of the room. He, poor\nwretch! gave up his apartment with a very bad grace, and strove to\nargue the matter, but he got no answer. The shooting of the bolts,\nthe creaking of the bed, were soon succeeded by a loud snoring, which\ndeprived the defeated wretch of his last hope.\n\nHe was going down-stairs in anything but a good temper, when he heard\nsome one moving cautiously at the bottom. The host of the \u201cCrocodile\u201d\n possessed the courage of those cowards who lie in wait to strike, but\nwho succumb before a hidden danger or an imaginary one, and shrink\nfrom an open attack. Porc-en-Truie had kept the lamp--all was buried in\ncomplete darkness.\n\n\u201cWho is that?\u201d asked Ali, in a disquieted tone.\n\n\u201cA friend,\u201d answered a voice no less apprehensive.\n\nThe landlord drew from the folds of his tunic one of those formidable\nknives which are still the fashion in Spain, and, having opened it,\nsoftly descended the last few stairs.\n\n\u201cWho are you?--what do you want?\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t speak so loud, for goodness\u2019 sake? Don\u2019t you recognise my voice?\nI am one whom you supplied with radishes an hour since.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe knight with the black plume?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe same. Can I have a word with you in private?\u201d\n\n\u201cWe should find it difficult to discover a more secret and solitary spot\nthan this. What is it you wish?\u201d\n\n\u201cI should like to stop here a month, unknown to my four travelling\ncompanions--why, I will tell you later.\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing is easier. They will leave to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI want a very humble lodging, which I expect I shall occupy for a\nmonth. But what I want more than all is your silence.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am as mute as my conscience, and I have a room that will suit you\nto a nicety.\u201d And Ali flattered himself that he had virtually let the\nlumber-room which had so distrusted Porc-en-Truie.\n\nHe retired for an instant, then returned with a light, and once more\nascended the stairs, followed this time by Maragougnia. He opened the\ndoor, entered first, and putting his hand behind the flame to throw a\ngood light on the scene, turned and said, with the tone of a man who\nfeels he had done the right thing, \u201cThere--that\u2019s the article for you.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 183]\n\nThe sudden appearance of the light put to flight a myriad of little\nblack specks, that, hustling, scrambling, and running to and fro over\nthe walls, finally disappeared in the hangings and wainscot.\n\n\u201cI want something more unpretending,\u201d said Maragougnia, shading his\neyes, dazzled by the light.\n\nAli could scarcely refrain from expressing his surprise in a shout.\n\u201cMore unpretending!\u201d said he to himself, utterly disheartened. \u201cThese\ntravellers are all alike--there\u2019s no satisfying them!\u201d But the landlord\nof \u201cThe Crocodile\u201d was not the man to let himself be beaten by such a\ntrifle. \u201cIf you will follow me, I have exactly what you require. I can\nlet it you for next to nothing;\u201d and he led the knight to a wretched\nouthouse, without either air or light, except such as came to it by\nreversion from the stable.\n\n\u201cThere!\u201d said Ali, briefly.\n\n\u201cThis will suit me admirably. The smell of a stable is good for the\nlungs, so this atmosphere ought to be very healthy.\u201d\n\n\u201cI let it to invalids,\u201d said the landlord, stopping his nose. \u201cSleep\nin comfort; the straw is this year\u2019s;\u201d and Ali, taking the lamp, left\nMaragougnia alone with his thoughts.\n\n\u201cGo,\u201d said the Count of Riom--\u201cgo, my dear fellow-travellers; go and get\nyour necks twisted, and your bones broken. Go and seek a castle in the\nair for the satisfaction of a royal vagary. I, more wise than you,\nshall stop here. Who knows but that fortune may not visit me here?\u201d Thus\nmusing, he fell asleep, and dreamt that his squire had obtained for him\na reduction of rent by turning the spit in the inn kitchen.\n\n[Illustration: 185]\n\nWhen the host re-entered the supper-room he was astonished to see\nthe table overturned, with its legs in the air, and Allegrignac and\nMont-Rognon making a bed of it. They were sound asleep, far gone in that\nstate of intoxication of which in after years the Templars afforded so\nmany instances. Wrapt, up in the most brotherly way in the table-cloth,\nthey reposed on a heap of odds and ends and broken crockery. The lamp\nhad succumbed to the general disaster, and was sputtering and mouldering\nin the ruins of a venison pasty.\n\n\u201cBravo!\u201d said Ali, rubbing his hands. \u201cThese are the sort of customers\nI like. Furniture never gets faded with them, for one is always having\nnew.\u201d With that he set himself to break whatever had escaped the general\nsmash; he even brought in a few damaged chairs, and distributed them\nartistically in fragments all over the room. Then, having picked up some\ngold pieces that had fallen on the floor, he went and lay down in the\nstable till morning.\n\n[Illustration: 186]\n\nMont-Rognon, whose normal state was semi-intoxication, was the first to\nwake next day. He gazed unmoved on the scene of destruction in the midst\nof which he had slept, and then went out into the yard to give himself\na washing at the trough. Ali P\u00e9p\u00e9, hearing him on the move, immediately\nmade his appearance.\n\n\u201cListen, landlord,\u201d said the Lord of Bourglastic, \u201cI like your style\nof cookery, and your wine suits my palate. I should like to stop here\na month; but, for reasons best known to myself, I wish my\nfellow-travellers not to know that I have put up here. When that drunken\nfellow who dined with me last night wakes up, you must tell him I\nstarted without waiting for him. You will do the same with that sluggard\nup-stairs, and when they are fairly off, come and let me know. I will\ntake your dining-room for a month, and I intend never to quit the table.\nI shall not stir out, and nobody save you must come near me. I will\ndefray the charges, including this last dinner, but I must insist on\nbeing well served. Recruit your forces, stock your larder and your\ncellar, for by Bacchus! you have got a tough job before you. Only I warn\nyou, if you tell a single soul that I am here, you had better make your\nwill, and order your coffin!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat an odd lot!\u201d said Ali, as he went in-doors. \u201cMust I send my stingy\ncustomer of last night packing? Or must I tell my drunken friend of this\nmorning that he is here? Pshaw! They are both afraid of being seen,\nand won\u2019t stir out an inch. One ought not to miss any profits, however\nsmall.\u201d With this reflection he went into the dining-room.\n\n\u201cIs that you, landlord? asked Allegrignac, without opening his eyes.\n\u2018Can you tell me what has become of my friend?\u2019 It\u2019s no use for me to\nkick about--he\u2019s not in the bed.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is gone, my dear sir--gone quite an hour ago. He said to me, \u2018Tell\nthe knight I leave in your room on the ground-floor, that I am sorry I\ncannot stop to say good-bye, for the heat is coming on, and I don\u2019t wish\nto delay my journey.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cOh, so the drunken dog has gone--wonderful! I suppose he has paid?\n\n\u201cNot he, sir, truly. He told me you would see to that.\u201d\n\nAllegrignac not only opened his eyes at this, but he sat up on end. \u201cAt\nany rate, he paid his share?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe has not given me a penny piece; he told me he had won a wager of\nyou.\u201d Before Ali had finished the sentence Allegrignac was on his legs.\n\u201cYou\u2019re no better than a brigand, and I\u2019ll wring your neck for you!\u201d\n\n\u201cI swear to you I have not received a farthing this blessed morning!\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, well,\u201d said the Count of Salen\u00e7on, recovering his good humour,\n\u201cI\u2019m well enough off not to bother myself about a trifle like that. So\nyou tell me my bed-fellow is really gone?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe is.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd the one who was here last night, too?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou saw him go yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue. Then, if I calculate rightly, there\u2019s only one more of us left.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe one who is snoring in my bed,\u201d sighed Ali, spitefully.\n\n\u201cVery well, then; open your ears wide, and listen attentively to what\nI say. If you let a syllable escape you, you and I shall quarrel.\nFor reasons that I need not state, I wish to put up at your inn for a\nmonth.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe, too!\u201d thought Ali. \u201cWhat is going to happen to the house?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will choose me apartments opening on the garden. I shall not go\nout, and nobody must have access to me save you and the sun. You will\nhave the room adorned with flowers. I never grumble at the accounts\nwhich innkeepers present to me. I satisfy myself with the explanation\nthat they are not strong in their arithmetic; I am not myself, either.\nBut I insist on being treated well. One word more: you give me the idea\nof a man who is rather proud of his ears. I always respect people\u2019s\ntastes, but I shall be compelled to deprive you of those ornaments if\nyou mention to a single soul that I have stayed here. You understand\nme?\u201d\n\n\u201cClearly!\u201d\n\n\u201cThen lead me to my prison!\u201d\n\nIt was not long before Allegrignac was duly installed. His furniture\nconsisted of a bed, a table, some flowers, and a guitar. He ordered\nbreakfast, and desired to be left to himself.\n\n\u201cI am curious to learn what these strange people want here,\u201d said\nAli, as he went up-stairs. \u201cI only hope the fourth knight won\u2019t take\npossession of my bed for an indefinite period. Let us try and get him\nout of it at once.\u201d\n\nThe host gave a vigorous push at Porc-en-Truie\u2019s door.\n\n\u201cSir! you bade me call you in good time. The sun has been up some hours.\nAre not you going to start?\u201d\n\n\u201cCome in!\u201d said the Lord of Machavoine. \u201cI want to have a word with\nyou.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut, my dear sir, I can\u2019t come in. You shut yourself in when you turned\nme out, and I know from experience that one cannot break in the door.\u201d\n\nPorc-en-Truie was reluctantly compelled to get out of bed and open the\ndoor, jumping into bed again, however, immediately, and turning his face\nto the wall.\n\n\u201cDo you know this bed is delicious! I have slept splendidly in it, and I\nam not such a fool as to go scouring the highways while I can get a good\nrest here. Listen to me attentively, and don\u2019t let me have to repeat\nanything, for I\u2019m dying for sleep. You will place beside me on a table a\nvenison pasty, two cold dishes, some preserved fruit, and thirty bottles\nof wine. Thirty--you hear?\u201d\n\n\u201cOnly too well!\u201d\n\n\u201cOnce a week you will come in on tip-toe, and lay the repast afresh. I\nam going to take a nap--you may call me in a month\u2019s time.\u201d\n\n\u201cI trust you won\u2019t think of doing so--keeping me out of my bedroom for a\nmonth-\u201d\n\n\u201cI warn you that I do not know how much money there is in my purse, and\nthat I sleep so soundly, you might rob me of it without my opening\nmy eyes. Ah, by the way, I forgot! As I don\u2019t wish to be disturbed, I\ncommand you not to tell a soul that I am here. I don\u2019t care a bit if\nyour inn is on fire, if the enemy is coming, or an earthquake happens.\nI mean to have my sleep out. Above all, don\u2019t let my fellow-travellers\nknow of my determination. Nothing less than your life or death depends\non that. Now, set everything out properly here, and don\u2019t let me hear\nany more of you for a month.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir--sweet sir--dear sir--great sir!\u201d sighed the host, little elated\nat the prospect of sleeping for the next thirty nights in the stable,\n\u201ccan\u2019t you choose some other resting-place? I can assure you, that\nif you go nearly as far as Montella--about half a day\u2019s journey from\nhere--you will find a magnificent hotel, where you will be infinitely\nbetter lodged than here. Are you listening to me, my dear sir?\u201d\n\nA vigorous snore proved to Ali that he was simply throwing away his\neloquence. To make quite sure the knight was asleep, the landlord began\nto inspect his purse, but Porc-en-Truie did not stir.\n\n\u201cWell, this is sleeping like a nobleman,\u201d said Ali, not half satisfied\nby the self-appointed award of a handful of gold pieces. \u201cFor this\namount I can afford to let him finish his nap!\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 189]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IV. ALI P\u00c9P\u00c9\u2019S LITTLE HARVEST.\n\nALLEGRIGNAC, Porc-en-Truie. Mont-Rognon, and Maragougnia continued to\ndwell in unconscious propinquity.\n\n\u201cWho can tell what has become of my companions?\u201d said all four, each\nto himself. \u201cThey have perished beyond doubt, or are prisoners at best.\nFaith! that\u2019s their look-out! Success is very properly the prize of\nsuperior intelligence.\u201d\n\nFor a whole month Porc-en-Truie slept, Mont-Rognon ate, Allegrignac\nplayed the guitar in a whisper, and Maragougnia plotted impossible\nmeannesses.\n\nOn the twenty-eighth day of his captivity Mont-Rognon greeted Ali with\na smile which he struggled to make as gracious as possible. Ali was\nterrified to see it, dreading lest his customer should ask him for\ncredit on the strength of such an act of condescension.\n\n\u201cSit down here opposite to me,\u201d said Mont-Rognon, growing every moment\nmore agreeable to Ali, who was growing every moment more uncomfortable.\n\u201cI am tired of eating alone. Besides, I have something to say to you.\u201d\n\nThe landlord sat down, poured himself out a bumper, and listened.\n\n\u201cSince I have been here I have watched you closely, and the result of\nmy examination is favourable to you. Occupied as I have been, it was\nimpossible for us to exchange much talk, but it was enough to make\nme appreciate you. I recognise in you one of those bold spirits who,\nregarding life as a journey, reject from the outset whatever may\nencumber their progress. Conscience is to them a stranger whose name\ngives rise to a smile, and remorse a bugbear invented by the weak to\nrestrain the strong. They only require in life that which it is able to\noffer, but they are not of the kidney to forego one single opening for\nenjoyment, let the price be what it may. People of my way of thinking\nare always ready to encourage that spirit. Do you comprehend?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 191]\n\n\u201cThat depends on what is to follow. I\u2019ll tell you presently. Go on!\u201d\n\n\u201cI travel, as you have been told, in the gastronomical interests of\nvarious sovereigns. One of them, whose name I choose to withhold, has\nsent me to this country with a mission so truly extraordinary that I\ndread to impart it to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cFear not, sir. I flatter myself I shall understand you.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe king, whose envoy I am, has a daughter as fanciful as she is\nbeautiful, and he is the slave of her lightest caprice. She has read in\nsome writer of this country that the Saracens owe the clearness of their\ncomplexion to a peculiar ointment. I am really afraid to tell you of\nwhat it is composed.\u201d\n\n\u201cDon\u2019t be afraid of anything with me, sir.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, they say that one must have, to make it properly, a human\nhead----\u201d\n\n\u201cAh?\u201d said Ali, pushing back his chair; \u201cyou are terribly plain to\nunderstand,--rest assured of that!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey assert that for this purpose the heads of the inhabitants of these\nparts are superior to all others. I have unluckily promised to procure\none, and if I fail to keep my word, my own head, for lack of better,\nwill have to serve the princess\u2019s turn. They persuaded me that to\nensure the preservation of the beauty of young girls was an act of\nphilanthropy, and I foolishly committed myself to the undertaking. I\noffer with all my heart one-half of the sum promised me to any one who\nwill assist me out of my scrape.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd how much have you been promised?\u201d said Ali, bringing his chair to\nthe table again.\n\n\u201cA hundred ounces. Do you know any respectable man of business who will\nundertake to supply such an article as I have named?\u201d\n\n\u201cPossibly--but all trouble deserves payment. If I act as your go-between\nshall I get nothing?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour claim is a fair one. I promise you fifty ounces--twenty-five for\nhim, and twenty-five for yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have what you require.\u201d\n\n\u201cTo-morrow?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis evening! But you must pay me half in advance. If you were to\nchange your mind, and leave me with the goods on my hands----\u201d\n\n\u201cBetween men of honour--\u201d\n\n\u201cBetween men of honour like us it is right to take precautions.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell! There\u2019s the money.\u201d\n\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9 took the gold, counted it, tried each coin in succession,\nweighed them with an air of wisdom, and said, quietly, \u201cThe money is\nquite correct; you shall have just the sort of article you want; and,\nwhat is more, I\u2019ll throw you the sack in!\u201d With these words he left the\napartment.\n\nIt was Allegrignac\u2019s lunch-time; so the host went up-stairs to the\ncount\u2019s room, and found him plunged in deep thought.\n\n\u201cTell me, Ali P\u00e9p\u00e9,\u201d said he, \u201cdid you ever happen to be married?\u201d\n\n\u201cNever, sir. I am the oldest representative of a race which will die\nwith me.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you cannot understand my sufferings!\u201d\n\n\u201cYour sufferings, my dear sir?\u201d\n\n\u201cMy heart is bursting, and I feel I can trust myself with you. Listen\nto my history, and sympathise with your unhappy guest. My early life was\npassed in bliss on the shores of the Sarmatian Sea, till one day I met\nthe daughter of the King of Scandinavia. This marvel of the North had a\nskin as white as snow, hair as golden as sunlight, and she was as plump\nas a partridge. Her beauty dazzled me, and I swore I would die to serve\nher----\u201d\n\n\u201cYour worship will excuse me if I beg you to commence your history at\nthe conclusion. I have several customers waiting below.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will be brief. It is the custom in certain cold regions for every\nyoung girl who has reached her seventeenth year to make a tour for\na couple of months to look out for a husband. Those who make any\nimpression on her, or on whom she makes an impression, accompany her\nhome to her father, who then makes his choice among the suitors. The\nfair Wahallaaka had just reached her seventeenth year, when I fell in\nwith her at the close of the circuit. My attention was first attracted\nby the splendour of the sledge in which she rode. It was drawn by thirty\nwolves, which shook the crimson silk tassels and jingled the steel\nchains of their harness. Seven hundred and sixty-seven suitors rode\nbehind her. The eyes of the fair Scandinavian met mine, and she felt at\nonce that her journey was completed. Could she meet with a more suitable\nhusband? She was not foolish enough to suppose so; and, giving me a\nsign to join the _cort\u00e8ge_, she gave the order to return to\nKh\u00e9takous-Mouvoska\u00efa, which is the capital of her father\u2019s dominions.\nHe, a man full of judgment and taste, confirmed his daughter\u2019s choice,\nand it was decided that at the expiration of two months I should\nbecome the husband of the beauteous Wahallaaka. For fifty days we had\na succession of festivals. Sledge races by torchlight were followed by\nballs and concerts. White bear-hunting, whale-catching, and a thousand\nother innocent diversions, furnished me with opportunities for the\ndisplay of my brilliant intelligence, my strength, my courage, my\naddress, my presence of mind, my grace, my agility, my----\u201d\n\nAli P\u00e9p\u00e9 threw an imploring glance at Allegrignac.\n\n\u201cI will be brief. Nothing in this world is perfect, and the incomparable\nWahallaaka had her share of imperfections. She was given to flirting and\nfibbing: she was fickle, she was foolish, she was vain, she was rash.\u201d\n\n\u201cSir!\u201d sighed the count\u2019s wretched listener.\n\n\u201cI will be brief. You are right; why should I open again these\nscarce-healed wounds? A page one day brought me a letter from my future\nbride. \u2018Go,\u2019 it said; \u2018leave me, to prove your love for me. The\nties which are about to unite us are so serious that I wish, before\nconfirming them irretrievably, to assure myself that I have not been\nmistaken in my choice of you. Go; during your absence I intend to give\nmyself, without reserve, to all the pleasures of society. I shall\ndo everything I can to forget you, and if in a year\u2019s time, when you\nreturn, I still love you, then, my knight, I will be your bride. You\nwill go to Spain. I do not give you that Eden for your place of exile\nwithout good reason. They assert that the men there are the handsomest\nin the world. Well, my betrothed, when your time comes to return, choose\none of the finest of these wretches, cut off his head, and bring it to\nme, that I may judge with my own eyes of the beauty of the barbarian\ntype.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cWell done!\u201d thought Ali; \u201chere are my four guests beginning again. In\neverything they do they follow suit, and I feel sure the other two will\nmake the same request. What is to be the end of this?\u201d\n\n\u201c\u2018Should you triumph in this trial,\u2019 added the fair Wahallaaka, \u2018from\nthat moment none shall be as dear to me as you.\u2019 When I read this letter\nmy heart was torn with conflicting passions, but I had the strength of\nmind to leave without seeing my beloved. For a whole year I dragged out\nmy miserable existence in all quarters of the globe. Now, however, my\ntime of trial is past, and I am about to return to my beloved country.\nOne thing alone remains to do. Can I present myself to her, who is so\ndear to me, without offering her that head which is the object of her\ndesires?\u201d\n\n\u201cBut how is it that, brave and mighty as you describe yourself to be,\nyou have not already procured it?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe reason is clear, as you will see. I am in the ordinary affairs of\nlife a very lion for courage; the panther and white bear I care not a\njot for; but as soon as the idea of fighting presents itself---whenever\nI find myself in the presence of danger--I tremble, lest I should prove\nunworthy of the fair Wahallaaka. The thought unnerves my arm, and a\nchild might conquer me. In short--I\u2019ll give you forty ounces for your\nhead.\u201d\n\nAli scowled at the knight. \u201cIf it be to finish in this manner that your\nworship has taken the trouble to relate this history, we might both of\nus have employed our time better.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf your head appears to me the finest model of Oriental beauty, there\nis no reason for you to be offended. You appear to be attached to it\u2019,\nwell, let\u2019s say no more about it, but get me for the same price some\nother specimen of the Asiatic tribes.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow much did you say you were willing to give?\u201d\n\n\u201cForty gold pieces.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou won\u2019t get anything worth looking at for that sum? Everything has\nrisen in price since the war.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, then, fifty pieces.\u201d\n\n\u201cSay sixty pieces--thirty down, and I\u2019ll promise you the best that can\nbe had.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am anxious to start, remember.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou shall have what you want by to-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cVery well! I rely upon you to keep your word.\u201d\n\nAli, as soon as he had the thirty pieces safe in his pocket, went\ndownstairs, and entered the apartment of the knight of Machavoine.\nPorc-en-Truie was not asleep.\n\n\u201cI thought so,\u201d said the innkeeper to himself; \u201chere\u2019s the sleeper as\nwide awake as a squirrel,\u201d and he made as if he would go out again.\n\n\u201cCome in,\u201d said the knight, \u201cI have something to talk to you about.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am all attention,\u201d said Ali, bowing.\n\n\u201cI leave to-morrow!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo soon?\u201d said Ali, looking at his long-lost bed with affectionate\ninterest.\n\n\u201cThat depends on you. Travellers like to carry away some little\nremembrance of places they have visited, and I have too much reason to\nbe pleased with my treatment here not to keep up the custom. What do you\nadvise me to get? You see, you must aid me in choosing, for I haven\u2019t\nstirred out, and know nothing about the place.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur grapes are very fine here in the north of Spain. Possibly----\u201d\n\n\u201cNo. That won\u2019t do. I want something that will keep.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe young girls of our country come from ten leagues round to Alagon\nto buy plated gold and silver trinkets, and necklaces of seed-pearl and\ncoral.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou must find out something better than that.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour worship puzzles me. The country has nothing else remarkable to\noffer except its inhabitants; but, of course, I could not offer you one\nof our people to take away.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat\u2019s a notion! It suggests an idea to me--only it is so peculiar I\nhardly like to mention it.\u201d\n\n\u201cPshaw! a little shyness will soon wear off.\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll give you a thousand guesses, and you\u2019ll puzzle your brains over it\nin vain to all eternity.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen, sir, don\u2019t let me have to guess.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou say your knaves here are handsome?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have adorable almond-shaped eyes, red lips, white teeth, and\ncomplexions of a delightful olive, covered with black down.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou only speak of their heads.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have a reason for doing so, for it is the only good thing they\npossess; for which reason our girls are accustomed to say, \u2018The heart of\nCastile, the soul of Catalonia, the form of Leon, the limbs of Navarre,\nand the head of Arragon make a perfect man.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my faith! the idea is a jolly one, and I must give you all credit\nfor having been the first to think of it.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour honour is too good. You accredit me with more spirit than I\npossess.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you originated the notion, you must assist me to put it into\nexecution. Well, then, how can you get me the head of an Arragonese?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat! you wish to take away a real head--a living head?\u201d\n\n\u201cLiving is scarcely the word--but a head that has been alive.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, that is an idea that no one has had before you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope so.\u201d\n\n\u201cOur country, sir, is a wonderful one, for this reason--that you can get\nwhatever you want, provided you have the money. If, therefore, you will\nallow me to manage----\u201d\n\n\u201cDo so, and do so quickly. That is all I require, and I shall leave\nto-morrow.\u201d\n\n\u201cI must have thirty pieces of gold in advance. The game you want is\nstrictly preserved, and difficult to procure, Nothing inspirits the\nhunter so much as to be paid ready money.\u201d\n\nSo Ali added thirty more pieces to the sixty he had already received,\nand hastened off to hide it in a secret spot known only to himself.\n\n\u201cNow I\u2019ll go and see my fourth customer. I am curious to learn what he\nhas to propose to me.\u201d\n\nMaragougnia had not during the whole month left the horrid little hole\nwhich he had chosen for his lodgings. Anxious to make a profit by his\nisolation, he had spent the time in _d\u00e9shabille_, in order to save his\nclothes. When Ali entered he found the knight patching his shirt with\nhis pocket-handkerchief. \u201cYou come just at the right moment; I wish to\nspeak to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am listening.\u201d\n\n\u201cI hope you will not take amiss what I have to say to you, nor\nmisunderstand my intentions. I think I ought first of all to tell\nyou that I am even more wretched than I look. You will understand, of\ncourse, that it is not from a feeling of greed that a man denies himself\neverything as I do. I should certainly not despise the good things of\nlife if I had the means of getting them. Picture to yourself that my\nmisery is such----\u201d\n\n\u201cExcuse me,\u201d said Ali, sharply; \u201cI see that you are going to take an\nhour in framing a demand which could be expressed in a few seconds. I am\nquite willing to give up my time to those who pay me, but you are either\ntoo poor or too stingy to justify my so doing. You want a Saracen\u2019s\nhead, and you are afraid to ask for it.\u201d\n\n\u201cGood heaven! who could have told you that?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou yourself.\u201d\n\n\u201cI? When?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou talk in your sleep, sir, and are more communicative then than when\nyou are awake. I sleep in the stable close by, and have overheard you.\nNow that you see I am so well informed as to your wants, let\u2019s settle\nthe matter at once.\u201d\n\nMaragougnia became infinitely whiter than his shirt.\n\n\u201cI can procure you what you want. But you must understand perfectly that\nit is not a stock article, so I must have a good price. Fifty pieces of\ngold down, and fifty more to-morrow on delivery.\u201d\n\nMaragougnia fell fainting on the floor. Ali feared for a moment that he\nhad gone too far. The knight\u2019s heart no longer beat, his body was icy\ncold, his breathing had stopped.\n\n\u201cCome, come!\u201d said Ali, \u201crecover yourself. You shall have it for\nninety-five pieces, or say ninety, in consideration of my having waited\non you for a month.\u201d\n\nThe Count de Riom did not stir.\n\n\u201cWell, we will fix it at eighty-five, but I won\u2019t abate a penny.\u201d\n\nThe knight opened his right eye.\n\n\u201cCome, I am less hard than I look,\u201d said the innkeeper, rubbing\nMaragougnia\u2019s hands. \u201cI will make you an offer.\u201d\n\nThe dying man opened his other eye.\n\n\u201cMust you have a head? because---I\u2019ll tell you what, I have an order for\na head on hand, I\u2019ll let you have the remnant cheap.\u201d\n\nThe knight closed his eyes again, and sank back motionless.\n\n\u201cThat doesn\u2019t suit you? Well! say no more about it. I am going to show\nyou how willing I am to serve you by lowering my demands.\u201d The knight\u2019s\neyes re-opened, and his heart began to beat again.\n\n\u201cSay eighty pieces, but I shan\u2019t come down any lower.\u201d\n\nAli rose to go. Maragougnia gave a heavy sigh, that would have softened\nthe heart of a famished tiger, but made no impression on the innkeeper.\n\n\u201cEighty pieces of gold! Why, it is more than I should spend in eight\nyears. You\u2019ll reduce me to beggary.\u201d\n\n\u201cPshaw! you are no better off now.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou might as well take my life.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou may accept my offer or leave it. People don\u2019t buy things of this\nsort every day. Will you have it?--Once!\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019d rather die.\u201d\n\n\u201cTwice!\u201d\n\n\u201cTen pieces--I\u2019ll give you ten pieces.\u201d\n\n\u201cThrice!\u201d\n\n\u201cWait a minute! one must take time to think over, such bargains.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, I\u2019ll come back presently, but I vow you will regret not having\ntaken my offer at once.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 197]\n\nAli went out, leaving Maragougnia pale, trembling, broken-hearted, a\nprey to a thousand conflicting emotions.\n\n[Illustration: 198]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER V. HOW ALI P\u00c9P\u00c9, HAVING DONE ALL THAT COULD BE EXPECTED OF AN\nHONEST MAN, WAS HANGED.\n\nTHAT evening the doors of the inn were closed earlier than usual. Ali\nhad given his servants a holiday to go to the fair at Montella, and was\nthus left alone with his four lodgers. He locked all the doors, put up\nthe chain at the front gate, ascertained that the shutters were closed,\nall of which were precautions he did not usually take. Then he went\ndown into the cellar, where there was a collection of weapons of all\ndescriptions.\n\nHe selected a large knife, which he carefully sharpened; put on a shirt\nof mail, as easy-fitting as silk, but perfectly sword-proof; put on a\nhelmet of extraordinary shape, which completely concealed his face, and\nwent up-stairs again softly. On arriving at the top of the stairs he put\nout his lamp, and stole forward on tiptoe. He stopped in succession at\nthe doors of the four knights, and peeped through the keyhole to\nsee what they were doing. Mont-Rognon was at his eighth bottle;\nPorc-en-Truie was asleep; Allegrignac was taking the fresh air in the\ngarden; Maragougnia was furtively counting his money.\n\n\u201cGood!\u201d said Ali to himself. \u201cIn one hour the gentleman who is at supper\nwill have finished his ninth bottle, and tumbled under the table; the\none who is dozing will be snoring soundly; the one who is meditating\nwill be asleep; and as to the fourth-\u201d\n\nThe proprietor of the \u201cCrocodile\u201d said no more; he had reached the\nstable, where he flung himself down on the straw.\n\nAt midnight Allegrignac woke up in a fright. He thought he heard a\npiercing cry.\n\n\u201cSomebody\u2019s having his throat cut,\u201d said the Count de Salen\u00e7on. He sat\ndown on the foot of his bed and listened. All was silent; you might have\nheard the spiders spinning their webs.\n\n\u201cI wasn\u2019t dreaming, nevertheless--no; I am sure I heard a cry.\u201d\n\nHe continued to listen, and now the silence made him tremble. He\nremembered his bargain with the innkeeper. The idea that he was the\ninstigator of the crime which undoubtedly had just been committed\ndeprived him of sleep. He dressed himself, and sat himself down on the\nside of his bed, with his drawn sword in his hand. In a quarter of an\nhour two more shrieks resounded through the night. Allegrignac sprang\nup as briskly as if in obedience to a hidden spring. These renewed cries\nalarmed him.\n\n\u201cEverybody is having his throat cut!\u201d said he to himself, growing more\nand more frightened. \u201cMy conscience has only to answer for one of the\ncrimes; so, if Master Ali is too zealous, I am not responsible.\u201d\n\nAs a precaution, he rolled his bed against the door, put the table and\nchairs on the top of it, and kept watch. The rest of the night passed\npeaceably and quietly. The moon accomplished her nocturnal round, and\nwhen the sun reappeared, Allegrignac, ashamed of his panic, restored\neverything to its place. At seven o\u2019clock Ali knocked at the door.\n\n\u201cHere is what you want,\u201d said he, placing a small sack on the count\u2019s\nbed. \u201cHave you the money ready?\u201d\n\n\u201cThere it is.\u201d\n\n\u201cI should recommend you to lose no time in setting out, for I think I\nsaw one of your companions this morning.\u201d\n\nAllegrignac did not wait to hear this advice repeated. He went\ndown-stairs, and, finding his horse ready at the door, he tied the sack\nto the saddle-bow, set spurs to his nag, and rode off at a gallop. Ali\nsmiled to see him go, and then, when he was no longer in sight, turned\ninto the apartment of the Baron of Mont-Rognon.\n\n\u201cI have obeyed your orders, sir. Here is what you required.\u201d And\nhe flung a sack on the table, as he had already done in the case of\nAllegrignac.\n\n\u201cThere is the sum we agreed on,\u201d said the baron, tendering him the\ntwenty-five pieces. \u201cSaddle my horse, I am in a hurry to be off!\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is ready saddled,\u201d said the landlord, taking the money; \u201cyour honour\nwill find it at the foot of the stairs.\u201d\n\nMont-Rognon went out for the first time for a month. He attached the\nsmall sack to the saddle-bow as Allegrignac had done, and in a few\nminutes was out of sight. Ali did not on this day enter the two rooms\noccupied by Porc-en-Truie and Maragougnia. He spent his time in counting\nhis money.\n\n\u201cFifty gold pieces from the drunken knight, plus forty for his keep,\nwill be ninety. Sixty from the talkative knight, plus thirty-five for\nhis board and lodging, will be ninety-five. That makes one hundred and\neighty-five pieces in all, if I know anything of arithmetic. Add to this\nthe purses of the lazy knight and the knight of the raven plumes--the\none containing one hundred and fifty and the other a hundred and forty\npieces, amounting to two hundred and ninety--which I must add to one\nhundred and eighty-five, leaving a total four hundred and seventy-five\npieces of good new money. This is more than one wants to begin life with\nhonestly, so I can afford myself that little whim--and will do so!\u201d Ali\nP\u00e9p\u00e9 was unable to realise this laudable purpose. He was hanged eight\ndays after, as you, my young friends, will learn, if you continue to\nread this history.\n\n[Illustration: 200]\n\n[Illustration: 201]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VI. SHOULDER TO SHOULDER, FACE TO FACE!\n\nCHARLEMAGNE was playing at chess with Naymes, Duke of Bavaria, for a\ncouple of hours, when he was informed that Allegrignac had returned. The\nEmperor, who had lost five games out of seven, was in anything but an\nagreeable mood. The news of the count\u2019s arrival completely cured him.\n\n[Illustration: 202]\n\n\u201cAt last we shall learn the truth about the Fortress of Fear. I feel\nsure Allegrignac will have acted vigorously and wisely. Fetch him a\nstoup of wine while I go to assemble my peers, barons, bishops, and\nclerks. I will hear what he has to say before them.\u201d\n\nWhen these orders had been carried out, Charlemagne caused the Count of\nSalen\u00e7on to be summoned into his presence.\n\n\u201cApproach, Allegrignac. You have proved yourself, I doubt not, possessed\nof endurance and bravery. I shall be glad to have to award the prize to\nyou. Tell us what happened to you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am, sire, overcome at the thought of my great good fortune, and seek\nin vain for any past good deed of mine which has won for me the\nfavour which Heaven lavishes on me. I will take care not to abuse your\nkindness, or the patience of so many learned and gallant listeners. I\nwill begin my story from the moment when I left Alagon for the Fortress\nof Fear. Dawn was breaking when I started. The darkness which was still\nspread over the earth was beginning to vanish at the approach of the\nsun, whose welcome was being chanted by the lark. I was asking myself\nhow so lovely a country could bring one to so dire a fortress, when\nmy horse gave a start, stopped, and, lowering its head, began to snort\nloudly. I then saw, a short distance from me, a little dwarf, not\nill-looking, who sat weeping by the road-side. \u2018While there is yet\ntime,\u2019 said he, \u2018abandon this insane adventure, and do not disturb\nthe great master of Fear. Seeing you so young and so lovely, I cannot\nrestrain my tears. Did you but know what obstacles you will find\nopposing you, you would certainly not encounter them.\u2019 \u2018I am the envoy\nof Charlemagne,\u2019 said I, quietly.\n\n\u201c\u2018Ask yourself, then, if I am a man likely to draw back.\u2019 I had hardly\nmentioned your name, sire, when I beheld the dwarf flying in alarm. I\nwent on. A little farther on my horse made a second start, and I found\nmyself face to face with a giant, who was in command of a body of twelve\narmed men. He had a foot placed on either side of the road, like the old\nColossus of Rhodes, and his men were drawn up, lance in rest, between\nhis legs, seeking to bar my passage.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 203]\n\n\u201c\u2018Whose servant are you, miscreant?\u2019 cried I. \u2018Mahomet has my faith--the\nLord of Fear my allegiance.\u2019 \u2018And I will have your life. Hurrah for\nCharlemagne!\u2019 I flung my lance at the monster with such force and skill\nthat it pierced his body, and lodged in the ground, point downward,\nfifty paces off. I drew my sword, and rode at his twelve followers, whom\nI routed. Although charging at full gallop, I had the forethought\nto recover my lance on the way. By the time these enemies recovered\nthemselves I was already in the midst of other perils. What more need\nI say? In vain did the elements assist the efforts of men and demons;\nstrong in my loyalty to my king, I overcame all obstacles!\u201d\n\nCharlemagne liked people to talk modestly, and the praises which\nAllegrignac did not cease to lavish on himself made him frown. \u201cAction\nis for men, and words for women,\u201d said he to himself. \u201cThis young man\ntalks a little too much.\u201d\n\n\u201cHuman strength has its limits,\u201d continued Allegrignac; \u201ceven mine is\nexhaustible, and, taking advantage of an interval of quiet, I dismounted\nto take a rest. I was a short way from the top of a high mountain,\non which the Fortress of Fear is built. I had a long time left the\ntemperate zone, and was surrounded by snow. All of a sudden----\u201d\n\n\u201cI\u2019ll wager his next words are a falsehood!\u201d whispered Roland to Turpin.\n\n\u201cNonsense! You\u2019re betting on a certainty,\u201d said the bishop.\n\n\u201cAll of a sudden my horse gave a terrified neigh. I turned round as I\nsprang to my feet, and beheld an avalanche leaping from rock to rock,\nand coming to swallow us up. I did not waste a moment. I waited it with\nfeet firmly planted, and arms outstretched. I caught it and held it back\nfor some seconds. \u2018Quick, Serenade!\u2019 I cried to my horse. \u2018Go along,\nmake haste, poor beast!\u2019 The animal understood my meaning, and escaped.\nIt was time, for my strength was just exhausted. I made one final and\nsupreme effort, flung the Titanic projectile on one side, and sank--I\nconfess it--exhausted on the ground. The brave men who hear me will not\nridicule my weakness.\u201d\n\nEvery one looked at his neighbour. They were more surprised at the\nimpudence of the speaker than the strangeness of his story.\n\n\u201cEnough of this sort of prattle,\u201d said Charlemagne. \u201cHere be plenty of\ngreat deeds--I\u2019ll ask for the rest of the story another time. Meanwhile,\ntell me--and as briefly as possible--have you seen the castle and its\nowner?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have seen them, and I bring you, sire, the head of the monster as an\nevidence of my victory.\u201d\n\nAllegrignac stooped down to take the bag, which he had placed beside him\nat the beginning of his story, when Mitaine entered and announced that\nthe Baron of Mont-Rognon desired an audience.\n\n\u201cBy my beard! I am curious to see and hear him. Allegrignac, withdraw,\nand let the Knight of Bourglastic speak. Bid the baron enter.\u201d\n\nMont-Rognon stepped in proudly; he paused at a few paces from\nCharlemagne, bowed, placed beside him the bag about which we know, and\nwaited to be interrogated.\n\n\u201cI have often reproached myself for having sent you on so formidable an\nadventure, my brave baron; only the remembrance of your past feats of\nvalour could make my mind easy about you. However, you have returned.\u201d\n\n\u201cI know not how to express to my Sovereign all my gratitude for the\nhonour he does me. I always believed that the joy of victory is the\ngreatest in the world, and the beating of my heart assures me that I was\nnot mistaken.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe joy of victory, do you say? Of what victory do you speak?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf that which I have just won over the Knight of Fear.\u201d\n\nA murmur of surprise was heard on all sides.\n\n\u201cCome forward, Allegrignac,\u201d said the Emperor, in a severe voice. \u201cWhat\ndoes this mean, and which of you is the impostor?\u201d\n\nThe consciences of the two pretended victors were not so clear that they\ncould listen without alarm to the infuriated voice of Charlemagne. They\nfelt that impudence alone could assist them; and Allegrignac coming\nforward, pointed to the Knight of Bourglastic, and said--\n\n\u201cIf, sire, this man pretends that he has vanquished the Knight of Fear,\nI declare that he lies.\u201d\n\n\u201cLies!\u201d cried Mont-Rognon, blinded with rage. \u201cWho dares utter the\nword?\u201d\n\n\u201cI, Allegrignac, Count of Salen\u00e7on.\u201d\n\n\u201cTraitor and perjurer! you shall not quit this place alive. A\ndisgraceful death shall be your fate, and the fate of all belonging to\nyou.\u201d And he drew his sword. \u201cYes, you have lied, baron of the realm\nthough you be, and I will teach you to change your note, perjured\ncoward! I shall slay you and yours before the humblest lacquey in my\nservice is the worse by a hair, for all your bravery.\u201d\n\n\u201cThese two cocks,\u201d said Oliver, \u201cseem to me to crow too long before they\nbegin fighting. It would be mockery to separate them.\u201d\n\nCharlemagne raised his voice, and silence was at once restored.\n\n\u201cI find you daring enough,\u201d said he, \u201cto deafen me with your clamour.\nThis insolence is insufferable. The first who speaks without being\nquestioned shall be punished; understand that, one and all!\u201d and then he\nadded, after a moment, \u201cWhat proof have you of the victory you say you\nhave won? Speak, Allegrignac.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have the head of the monster in this bag.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you, Mont-Rognon, what have you to say?\u201d\n\n\u201cThis man is an impostor. I have here what will prove him so.\u201d The\nKnight of Bourglastic seized his bag, and opened it; the Count\nof Salen\u00e7on did the same, and then each held up a gory head for\nCharlemagne\u2019s inspection.\n\n[Illustration: 205]\n\nAt this sight the Emperor turned pale.\n\nHe rose, and seemed anxious to speak, but could only utter the one word,\n\u201cMurderers!\u201d\n\nThe whole assembly gave a cry of horror on recognising the heads of\nPorc-en-Truie and Maragougnia; but the most frightened of all were\nassuredly Mont-Rognon and Allegrignac, who, letting fall the two\naccusing heads, flung themselves at the Emperor\u2019s feet.\n\n\u201cSire, do not hold us guilty. We have been the victims of some treason.\nYes, we confess it; we were unable to carry out your instructions.\nTerrified and at our wits\u2019 end, we lost our heads--\u201d\n\n\u201cThen no one will be surprised this evening to see they are no longer on\nyour shoulders,\u201d interposed the Emperor, who thus set a-going a horrible\njoke, which has done service so often since that it has well earned a\nretiring pension.\n\nThe next day, after mass, the Lord of Bourglastic and the Count of\nSalen\u00e7on underwent a final examination. By vespers Charlemagne had\nsentenced them to death. When the bugles sounded they had been beheaded,\nand flung out to feed the wolves.\n\nEight days after Ali P\u00e9p\u00e9 was hanged.\n\n[Illustration: 206]\n\n[Illustration: 207]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VII. MITAINE OPENS THE CAMPAIGN.\n\nCHARLEMAGNE, on one occasion, committed an act of imprudence; he\npromised Mitaine that when she performed any remarkable feat of valour,\nshe should be attached to Roland\u2019s staff as a squire. From that moment\nshe never rested; ambition constantly haunted her, and, without letting\nany one know her plans, she was always looking out for some opportunity\nof distinguishing herself. The Fortress of Fear seemed an object worthy\nof her labour, and the unfortunate issue of the expedition of the\nfour knights induced her to undertake the adventure. \u201cIf my friend\nCroquemitaine lives in the castle, I will find him, and prove I am not\nafraid of him.\u201d\n\nShe set forth early one morning, accompanied by a young page of her\nacquaintance named Ortez; and when she found herself at what she\nbelieved a sufficient distance from the camp to render pursuit\nimpossible, she told her companion to return to the Emperor, and inform\nhim that she had resolved to find the Fortress of Fear.\n\n\u201cTell him not to be alarmed for me; he shall have no reason to blush for\nhis godchild. I hope before long to remind him of his promise to make me\na squire.\u201d\n\nThe page endeavoured in vain to dissuade her from her plan; in vain he\nthreatened her with the anger of Charlemagne. \u201cWhen I return,\u201d said she,\n\u201che will gladly embrace me.\u201d\n\nThe more he described to her the magnitude of the dangers she would\nencounter, the more determined she was to face them.\n\n\u201cWell, then, I shall follow you,\u201d said Ortez, resolutely.\n\n\u201cIf you do anything of the sort I warn you that we shall quarrel.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think I am wanting in courage?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo! I know you are brave; only I do not desire to lessen the merit of\nthe deed I am resolved to accomplish by sharing its dangers with you.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut it would be dishonourable in me to allow to go alone into danger\none whom it is my duty to defend,\u201d said the lad, planting his little\nfists on his hips.\n\n\u201cBy the Shrine of St. Landri! you are too importunate, Ortez. Girls like\nme have beak and talons like fully-fledged falcons. Return, then, to the\ncamp to inform Charlemagne, and if in three days I do not come back, you\nwill pray for a gallant girl who died in the quest of adventure.\u201d\n\nThe page was obliged to give way; he returned alone along the road which\nhe had just traversed in company with Mitaine, and I will not swear that\nhe had not tears in his eyes.\n\nAs soon as she was alone, Mitaine assured herself that her sword was\nfirmly buckled on at her side--that her dagger quitted its sheath\neasily; then she bent her steps towards a ruined hut which stood in the\nmidst of a vast field of maize. Before long she reached it, and saw a\npeasant seated on the ground playing with his children. She was\nstruck by his air of profound melancholy, and shocked at the wretched\nappearance of the little ones that were rolling\u2019 about in the dust.\n\n[Illustration: 208]\n\n\u201cCan you tell me the way to the Fortress of Fear?\u201d\n\nOn hearing this question the peasant rose hurriedly, and stared at\nMitaine with frightened eyes. The youngsters took refuge between his\nlegs as if they expected some calamity.\n\n\u201cDo you know what you are asking?\u201d said the terrified man. \u201cIt is\ndoubtless a jest, or a bit of show-off inexcusable in a child of your\nage.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not answer seriously a serious question. Not being a native of\nthe country, I may not express myself properly; I believe, however, I\nspoke sufficiently plainly to be understood. Once more I ask you the way\nto the Fortress of Fear.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is the way to certain death.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does that matter?--it is the way I intend to take. I feel certain\nthat they belie the lord of the castle, and wish to put his hospitality\nto the test.\u201d\n\n\u201cHere is a madman!\u201d said the peasant to himself, sending the children\ninto the hut; \u201cnevertheless, I must not let him go without having told\nhim the danger to which he exposes himself. For sixty years, my young\ntraveller, I have inhabited this cottage. Not one of those who have put\nto me the question that you have just asked me has ever returned. At\nfirst, the people who travelled along this road came singly; careless,\ngay, foolish as you, they passed singing before my door: the same\nevening they were the captives of Fear. When it was found that there was\ndanger in the voyage, there was quite a different sort of procession.\nMan spends his life in neglecting Heaven and courting death. When Death\nscowls at him, he believes it is smiling. The procession never returned.\nGallant warriors came, and said to me, \u2018Prepare a breakfast for us\nto-morrow, good man; on our return we will make great cheer, and tell\nyou our adventures, and laugh over them.\u2019 And the feast was wasted for\nwant of guests; and so, later, when reason increased in my brain, as\nmy beard grew on my chin, I made people pay in advance, but I made no\npreparations for their return. Then came troops of warriors fully armed,\namid the flourish of trumpets, and with banners floating on the wind.\nThey pillaged my house, and their horses wasted my crops. Fear made them\ncaptives like the others, and from that time I have lived alone in my\nruined habitation, which no one dares to approach. I lost my father\nthrough his rashness, my wife through her curiosity; she left me these\nchildren. One of them wandered away one day when I was in the fields;\nwhat happened to him I have never known; he came back to me an idiot. I\nhave never quitted this spot, though it is more like a burial-place than\na birth-place. I am a solitary dweller on the frontiers of Death, an\nadvanced outpost, crying to all such foolish people as you to turn\nback.\u201d\n\n\u201cI thank you,\u201d answered Mitaine; \u201cbut if you had known me, you would\nhave taken care not to tell me this history, for it only redoubles my\ndesire to meet this dreadful tyrant.\u201d\n\nThe peasant raised his arms to Heaven, as if to call it to witness the\nefforts he had made; then he again sat down before his ruined cabin.\n\n\u201cYou must be poor,\u201d said Mitaine, feeling in her purse. \u201cTake this; you\nwill be my heir if I die, which does not appear to me quite so certain.\nIn any case, the money is yours. Pass the night in prayers for my\nsuccess, and in the meantime point out to me the road that I must\nfollow.\u201d\n\nThe peasant rose, took Mitaine by the hand, and climbed with her a naked\nheight which overlooked the country.\n\n[Illustration: 209]\n\n\u201cYou see that footpath which borders the forest? That you must follow.\nWhither it leads no one knows. Heaven be with you! Farewell!\u201d\n\n\u201cLet me embrace you,\u201d said Mitaine, holding out her arms to the peasant,\nwho sank on his knees, as if in the presence of the dead. She flung her\narms round his neck, and kissed him; the old man wept; one of his tears\nfell on Mitaine\u2019s hand, she signed herself with it as if it had been\nholy water;--then she departed. The peasant remained on his knees\npraying until sunset; after that he sought his miserable home, put his\nchildren to bed, lit a taper, and again betook himself to prayer until\nmorning.\n\n[Illustration: 210]\n\n[Illustration: 211]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER VIII. THROUGH THE FORESTS.\n\nTHE sun sank down in a flood of purple, the birds were chanting their\nvespers.\n\n\u201cCome on, Croque-Miton-Mita-Mitaine!\u201d cried the girl. \u201cI would not stir\nfrom the spot for the spurs of knighthood.\u201d\n\nThe sky changed from gold to pale blue, from pale blue to violet, from\nviolet to indigo, from indigo to black. A thousand stars peeped out\nto see what was going to happen. A waning moon climbed slowly up the\nheavens, shedding a feeble light and yellow, as if smitten with fever.\nThe air became cooler, a gentle breeze began to stir the foliage,\ncovered with the dust of day, and to awaken it to its morning toilet.\nEvery sound was hushed, except the rustle of the leaves. The grass had\ngrowm so thick and long, Mitaine scarcely knew where to set her foot.\nShe was not afraid, and yet, as she advanced, her thoughts became more\ngrave. To be self-collected in danger is one of the signs of courage. A\ncoward loses himself in the presence of peril.\n\n\u201cWhat am I about to meet with yonder? What obstacles shall I fall in\nwith? I have always heard my royal godfather say that there is nothing\none cannot overcome by courage, skill, and perseverance; it he spoke the\ntruth, I have nothing to fear. This Croquemitaine, perhaps, is, after\nall, only a robber chief, profiting by the public panic to pillage the\npassers-by. The passers-by?--but nobody does pass by, and, as a rule,\npeople render pleasing, rather than terrible, the paths that lead to a\nsnare. Pshaw! we shall soon see!\u201d\n\nAll her past life came back to Mitaine\u2019s recollection. She seemed as if\nshe should feel less solitary when surrounded by memories of those she\nloved. She seemed to hear friendly voices. \u201cBe prudent,\u201d whispered her\nmother.\n\n\u201cBe resolute!\u201d said Charlemagne.\n\n\u201cBe bold!\u201d said Roland.\n\nThus accompanied, she pushed on with firmer tread, and halted not\nuntil she reached the border of the forest. As she entered it, her foot\nslipped upon some round slimy object, and a snake wound itself round her\nleg. \u201cSo the shame is beginning,\u201d said Mitaine.\n\nThere is room in the human heart for Prudence and Courage, they live\ntogether like good neighbours, and it would give you, my young friends,\na very false idea of bravery to suppose that it cannot exist in company\nwith caution.\n\nMitaine had put on a suit of mail, and she congratulated herself on\nwearing her gauntlets, as she stooped down to seize hold of the reptile.\nShe grasped a round and flexible object, and was about to crush it under\nher heel, when she discovered that what she had taken for a serpent\nwas only a creeper, which broke in her hand. For an instant she felt\nashamed.\n\n\u201cThis is the\u2019 result of all the stories I have been so long listening:\nto about this absurd castle. If people had not tried to frighten me, I\nshould not even have stooped down.\u201d And she continued her route.\n\nThe moon flung her rays over the forest, and Mitaine beheld in the\ndistance a number of white menacing shapes. Some had burst their\nshrouds, and allowed their skeleton forms to be seen, clattering at\nevery breath of air; others displayed fearful wounds, in which the\nweapons yet remained; fleshless arms stretched towards her, and the wind\nbore to her indistinct and threatening murmurs. She allowed herself\nto be betrayed into a gesture of alarm; immediately the spectres shook\ntheir dishevelled hair, waved their arms, and began to move towards her.\nShe saw them approaching in countless numbers, with menacing aspect and\nhollow meanings.\n\n\u201cBy Roland!\u201d said she, \u201cI believe I\u2019m a little frightened. My godfather\nwould blush for me if he knew it.\u201d She drew her sword, and rushed on.\n\nHardly had the sense of alarm left her, when the appearance of all she\nsaw was changed. The spectres vanished, and Mitaine saw before her only\na few bleached tree trunks, on which the moon shed its rays. Instead of\nwounds, she saw inequalities of the bark; instead of outstretched arms,\nshe saw branches; instead of unkempt locks, leaves; while in the place\nof threatening murmurs she heard only the wail of the wind.\n\n\u201cI\u2019m evidently growing foolish,\u201d said she to herself; \u201cI have lost my\nhead, and my brain to-night is full of spectres. I must not let myself\nbe caught again.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 213]\n\nScarcely had the thought passed through her mind when she felt herself\ncaught by the leg; this time there was no illusion. She turned round\nquickly, and saw with alarm a grim shape, which struggled out of the\nearth, and flung itself upon her. At the foot of every tree she could\ndistinguish like forms buried in the earth breast high, and writhing in\nagony.\n\nMitaine strove, but in vain, to release her leg; the shape clung to it,\nand its head seemed about to seize her in its jaws.\n\n\u201cReality or spectre--dead or alive--I will try how you will take this;\u201d\n and she struck fiercely at it with her sword. The blow fell upon the\nroot of a tree.\n\n\u201cHow is it that I did not see this at once? I shall never forgive myself\nthis foolish fear. I must admit, Master Croquemitaine, that your jokes\nare anything but pleasant. Still, I hope you will give me something more\nserious to do before long, or I shall cut but a sorry figure when I come\nto relate my adventures.\u201d\n\nObserve, my children, that it is almost always thus in life: out of a\nhundred things which terrify you, at least ninety-five will only make\nyou smile, if you look them boldly in the face.\n\nThe sky had gradually become covered with clouds; large drops of rain\nbegan to fall; in the distance the thunder rumbled, but so faintly, that\nit seemed only like the snoring of an elephant or a hippopotamus.\n\n\u201cThe greatest danger I run is that of catching cold. The rain has\nalready begun, and who can tell when I shall reach the Fortress of Fear?\nThis coward of a Croquemitaine has so well concealed his abode, that one\nmight just as well look for a pin at the bottom of the sea.\u201d\n\nA terrific clap of thunder was the only answer she received, and the\nglare of the light allowed her to distinguish at a short distance\nthe castle, which was perched, as if balanced, on the extreme point of a\nmountain of eccentric form.\n\n\u201cSo this, then, is the precious jewel which they have taken such pains\nto conceal from all eyes. By my faith! they were right to conceal it,\nfor it appears to me the most hideous in the world.\u201d\n\nMitaine pushed forward. For a long time she followed the course of a\nruined wall, when suddenly a flash of lightning cleaving the heavens\nenabled her to discover a horrible monster grazing at her from its\ncrest. It resembled the skeleton of a horse, combined with those of an\nostrich, a whale, and a giraffe. Its enormous head was supported by\na disproportionately long neck, and its two claws, armed with immense\ntalons, were seeking on the top of the wall for some point of vantage\nwhence to leap upon her.\n\n[Illustration: 215]\n\nMitaine, taken by surprise, sprang back twenty paces; the monster took\nas many in advance. She sank upon her knee as it drew near, and felt its\nhot breath blowing upon her.\n\n\u201cBy the Shrine of St. Landri! I am acting like a child, and show myself\nlittle worthy to follow Charlemagne and Roland to battle.\u201d\n\nShe sprang up; the monster immediately recoiled.\n\n\u201cWill nothing teach me wisdom? Every obstacle that I meet boldly\ndisappears, and yet I allow myself to be stopped by this vile form;\u201d\n and she gave the wall a vigorous kick. The stones fell crumbling, and\ndragged with them a number of creepers and brambles a century old,\nbreaking a poor harmless tree which had stood for ages, with its\nbranches resting on the wall. Mitaine shrugged her shoulders, and moved\non, saying, \u201cAs I expected!\u201d\n\nIn a few minutes she found herself in the presence of a more serious\nobstacle. Before her rolled a torrent, which carried down in its rapid\nwaters huge blocks of stone, as any other stream would carry down logs.\nThis new barrier it was not easy either to overcome or avoid. The night\nwas dark, and the moon faint and pale, and half hidden in masses of\ncloud. It seemed rather like a dying watch-fire than a luminary of the\nfirst magnitude. The water of the torrent gleaming in this half light\nrushed by with formidable violence, and Mitaine felt her brain swim\nwhenever she looked at it. She hurried up and down the bank, seeking\nin vain for a means of crossing. The lightning, as if to confuse her,\nredoubled its intensity, and showed her the castle situated at a short\ndistance on the further shore. At length, however, she discovered a tree\nwhich lay across the gulf. Every wave as it passed had washed away a\nportion of the bank; the tree, half uprooted, had held its own well for\na time, until at last, weary of the struggle, it had suffered itself to\nsink to the ground.\n\nMitaine contemplated this means of crossing not without apprehension.\nTremblingly she placed her foot upon the trunk; it shook and rocked.\nShe hesitated, and as her hesitation increased, so the tree became more\nshaky and uncertain.\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said she, impatiently; \u201cam I so short a distance from my object,\nand must I draw back because the passage is not quite safe? No! it\nis fear that makes me awkward; every day I accomplish things far more\ndifficult than this.\u201d\n\nShe set her foot resolutely on the trunk, and found, to her surprise,\nthat it grew firmer as she went on.\n\n[Illustration: 217]\n\n\u201cWhy, I am on a wooden bridge,\u201d said she, when she got half-way over.\n\u201cNay, indeed, it\u2019s a fine stone bridge,\u201d she cried, as she reached the\nfarther shore.\n\nOf a truth, my children, fear doubles the importance of most obstacles,\nfor it deprives us of half die faculties which should assist us to\novercome them. Take away the ape\u2019s intrepidity and give it to man, and\nman will become as agile as the ape.\n\nMitaine saw before her but one road, and set out resolutely along it\u2019\nalthough it wras so narrow that she brushed the rock on either side with\nher shoulders. It was, in fact, less a path than a cleft in the mountain\nside. She pushed forward on tip-toe, wondering a little what she should\nfind at the other end of this burrow. Suddenly her head encountered an\nobstacle, and she discovered that the passage had become so low, that\nshe must stoop to continue her path.\n\n\u201cDo they want to bury me alive?\u201d The thought made her hair bristle; and\nnot without reason, I can assure you, for she was in utter darkness,\nwith hardly a breath of air, and every instant she felt the four walls\nclosing in.\n\n\u201cDo your best, Croquemitaine; it shall never be said that I turned back,\nwhen I had got so close to you.\u201d\n\nShe was now compelled to continue her progress on her hands and knees.\n\u201cYu will get nothing by it; I will pay you for this when I meet you.\u201d\n\nThe ceiling was now so low, that she was obliged to drag herself along\nthe ground. \u201cIf there be room for a mouse, I\u2019ll get through, never trust\nme!\u201d\n\nAt last, she saw with joy a gleam of light, a few paces further on.\nThis feeble ray gave her fresh courage, and she struggled on by dint of\nnails, knees, and feet so well, that in a few seconds she had reached\nthe outlet. She was about to breathe again, to live again, to move\nfreely! one more effort, and she would be at liberty! She perceived that\nthe opening at the end of the passage was guarded by a strange sort of\ngrating.\n\n\u201cWell, this complicates the situation! I should be curious to know what\nmy long-bearded godsire would do, if he found himself on all fours in\nthis mole-run before these bars. Assist me to get out of this, St. J\names, and I will offer up to you a prayer of gratitude.\u201d\n\nMitaine made another movement to approach still nearer to the grating;\nshe was about to take the bars in her hand, when she perceived there was\nnothing before her but a spider\u2019s web.\n\n\u201cThanks, St. James! you have saved me from a terrible danger.\u201d\n\nBut now the spider came down into the middle of his web to defend his\nstronghold, and it was with no common insect that she had to deal.\n\nPicture to yourselves a body as big as your two fists, bloated\nand hairy; legs by the dozen, vying with each other in agility and\nflexibility, with two pinchers like those of a scorpion, and eyes that\ngleamed in the dark.\n\nIf Mitaine had had the free use of her limbs she would not have taken\nmuch notice of such a trifle; but you must remember that she was lying\nflat upon the ground, hedged in on all sides as close as if in a coffin,\nand that she could only fight the creature by butting at it with\nher head. The spider, taking advantage of her hesitation, set about\nrepairing its net, adding thread to thread with frightful rapidity.\n\n[Illustration: 223]\n\n\u201cIt is worth one\u2019s while to be the godchild of an Emperor, the daughter\nof a knight, the friend of a hero, and, above all, a favourite of St.\nJames, in order to run away from a spider. Mountjoy, St. Denis! let\u2019s\ncharge the foe!\u201d She lowered her head, closed her eyes, and pushed her\nway on. The web broke; she felt her opponent glide over her shoulder,\nand run along her back. She immediately pressed herself with all her\nforce against the roof, heard a sound like the breaking of an egg, and\nstepped forth mistress of the field. With what joy did she find herself\nin the open air! How did she rejoice in the rain that beat on her face\nand the whirlwind, whose violence tore up even the stones in her path!\n\nBefore her rose the Fortress of Fear.\n\n[Illustration: 221]\n\n[Illustration: 224]\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER IX. A NIGHT IN THE FORTRESS OF FEAR.\n\nI SHOULD like, my young friends, to give you a horrible--an alarming--a\nterrific description of the Fortress of Fear. The subject is a tempting\none enough, but I am the slave of truth, and moreover, imagination has\nbuilt it after such a fashion that every one sees it under a different\naspect. I can, however, tell you a little about it.\n\nThe Fortress of Fear is only seen at night, and scarcely can its black\noutline be made out against the black sky. If the moon shows herself,\nit is only with an evil purpose to bring out more clearly some hideous\ncombination of lines. The stones are leperous, and the snakes that dwell\namong them seem like worms that feed on them. Life is represented there\nby the mere refuse of creation--vultures, adders, centipedes, rats,\nscorpions, toads, woodlice, and owls; and yet one could not help\nwondering how even such foul broods as these could inhabit such a place.\nThose who have had the misfortune to behold this ominous sight perceive\nonly an irregular line of towers, half fallen into ruins, and resembling\nnothing so much as the fangs of some ogress seven hundred years old. The\nFortress of Fear is the oldest of all fortresses; that it still stands\nis a miracle, for a breath can overthrow it;--and yet it is eternal.\nEach of us reckons an hour in his life in which it has appeared to him;\nand even the bravest of us must confess to having paid it a visit.\n\n[Illustration: 225]\n\nMitaine discovered a low portal, almost concealed by the ivy; the wood\nwas worm-eaten, the iron was rusty, there was the slimy track of a snail\nacross the handle. In the archway roosted a flock of night birds, which\nflew out, expressing their disgust at being disturbed, by melancholy\nhooting. Mitaine pushed the door--it resisted; she smote it with the\npommel of her sword--a hollow sound was the only answer; for ten minutes\nshe struggled in vain to force an entrance, then, losing patience, she\ngave it a vigorous kick with her foot. The woodwork gave way, the lock\ncame off, the hinges parted, and the barrier fell inwards. Immediately\nshe heard a loud noise, and felt several severe blows. The stonework of\nthe arch had given way, and fallen in upon her. Fortunately she was not\nalarmed; had she shrunk back, she must have been buried in the ruins.\nA formidable heap of rubbish blocked the entrance. Where Time busies\nhimself in the work of destruction, and Accident assists him to build a\nbarricade, they both do their work so well, that those most experienced\nin such constructions must bow admiringly to their superior skill.\n\n\u201cHo! Ho! What do they take me for here?\u201d said Mitaine to herself, not\nwithout anger. \u201cDo they fancy by any chance that I want to run away?\nThis is a most needless precaution.\u201d\n\nMitaine was at the foot of a narrow spiral staircase, which led to the\ntop of the castle. The walls, covered with thick moss, distilled an\noffensive moisture, which, falling on the stairs, encouraged the growth\nof forests of ferns, lichens, and toadstools, the pleasant homes of\nhundreds of wood-lice, and other creeping things. On the first step was\nseated a toad; a pale lambent flame played around it, the only light to\nbe met with in this dismal spot. The toad rose on its hind legs like a\nkangaroo, and began to climb the staircase, leaving behind it on each\nstep a slimy track, which spread out exhaling a noisome odour. Mitaine\nfollowed this phosphorescent guide. Hearing a hollow sound accompanying\neach step, she turned and saw the stairs crumble away one after another\nas she ascended.\n\n[Illustration: 226]\n\n\u201cThey are evidently bent on keeping me here, and I confess I shall have\nsome difficulty in tearing myself away.\u201d\n\nThe toad continued to lead the way. At the sixtieth stair it paused\nbefore a door, which opened, although there was nobody to be seen:\nthe toad again moved on, and Mitaine continued to follow it. She found\nherself in a vast gallery lighted only by the moon. Refreshed by the\ncool air which blew on her face, and by the glimpse of the open country\nwhich she caught through a window, she felt as if she had just emerged\nfrom the tomb. On her left hand was a blank wall; before her opened, one\nafter another, a series of huge folding doors; on her right was a large\narray of columns and arches that flung their gloomy shadows on the\nfloor and side of the chamber. Before her was the toad going on without\nstopping; gleaming with phosphorescent light, and leaving behind it, as\nif crawled along, a slimy and shining track. As Mitaine passed by the\nfirst column, it crumbled in pieces, and she beheld, standing upright on\nthe pedestal, a corpse wrapped in its winding-sheet, and holding in its\nhand a lighted torch. It stepped down from its place, and, waiting until\nshe passed, took up its position on her left. The second column sank in\nits turn, a second corpse descended and placed itself on her right hand,\nalso bearing a torch. The same thing took place throughout the\nwhole length of the gallery; but the attention of our young page was\ndistracted by the spectacle she beheld on passing the first door. She\nsaw an immense hole, the mere sight of which made her giddy; at one\nmoment excessively bright, at the next equally gloomy, it seemed as if\nlighted by some gigantic forge, whose flame alternately blazed up and\ndied at every successive blast of the bellows. This intermittent glare\nwas insupportable, and for some minutes Mitaine was almost blinded.\nShe heard groans, and, at length, contrived to distinguish thousands\nof unhappy wretches with their hands tied behind their backs, and their\nlimbs fractured, suspended by their wrists from the roof. Her heart full\nof pity and rage, she was about to rush to their aid, when she perceived\nthat the hall was without a floor; a gulf, at the bottom of which a\ntorrent was roaring, yawned beneath the feet of the victims. She turned\naside her head, wiped away a tear, and hastened onwards. Every door\nbefore which she passed afforded her a view of new tortures, and her\nimpotence to relieve these agonies so infuriated her, that, not knowing\nhow to vent her rage, she rushed, sword in hand, upon the melancholy\nprocession that surrounded her; but she encountered nothing but empty\nair. The corpses, taking no heed, pursued their way without hurrying,\nwithout delaying. Then the anger of Mitaine knew no bounds. She rushed\non recklessly in search of an enemy. The toad took to flight; the dead,\nobserving their distance, seemed to glide, not walk over the floor.\nAt the end of the gallery a door opened, on grating hinges, and closed\nagain as soon as Mitaine had crossed the threshold. The darkness was\nimpenetrable. She was compelled to halt. The dull flame of the torches\nflickered up and faded in the gloom without giving out any light. The\ncorpses ranged themselves in an immense circle round the toad; the\ntoad gave a bound at least ten feet high, and Mitaine observed that it\nincreased in size.\n\n[Illustration: 227]\n\nAs it swelled out, the hall became filled with light. Then the beast\nbegan to assume airs and graces, to attitudinise, and to ogle; and\nlastly, to finish these vagaries, it set about its toilet, and commenced\nscratching itself, emitting, at every touch of its foot, showers of\nvenom and sparks.\n\n[Illustration: 230]\n\nThe hall which Mitaine had just entered was the largest in the world. It\nseemed like some enormous square, in which met a number of wide roads,\nwhose starting-points were lost in obscurity. The ceiling, which was\nlow, was supported on huge granite cubes, whose sides were adorned\nwith _bas reliefs,_ representing the most varied scenes in the dance of\ndeath. The toad took its seat on an overturned column, at the foot of\none of the pillars, shining like some baleful meteor. In front of it,\nbeneath a da\u00efs of black serge, embroidered with silver, sat the Lord\nof the Fortress and his family, while in all the galleries legions of\nghosts waited, motionless, the orders of their master.\n\nThe throne was of aspen wood; it was no easy task to reach it.\nOubliettes, traps, and snares defended the approach. The Lord of Fear\nwas standing up. On either side of him were seated the noble dame\nCowardice of St. Panic, and her daughters, Consternation, Fright,\nTerror, Alarm, Dismay, Apprehension, Trepidation, Timidity,\nPusillanimity.\n\n[Illustration: 231]\n\nPoltroonry, and Dastardy. All were misshapen, and so accustomed to\ntry to look on every side of them at once, for fear of being taken\nby surprise, that they squinted frightfully. They were all absolutely\nhideous to behold.\n\nThe Lord of Fear was tall, but he stooped and kept his head sunk between\nhis shoulders. His bristling locks were prematurely white; his hollow\neye did not remain still for an instant, but wandered restlessly to\nevery corner; his sunken countenance, pale and colourless as wax, was\ndisfigured by green streaks; his purple lips, continually quivering with\nnervous excitement, endeavoured in vain to assume an air of bravery; his\nfidgety fingers wandered to his cuirass, his sword, his dagger, as if to\nassure themselves that they would not be wanting if needed.\n\nThe family of Fear, perspiration bathed his face, in spite of the\nfever that consumed him. His teeth chattered, and every moment a fit of\nshivering set all his defensive armour rattling under his dingy cloak;\nand every time that she heard this sound of steel, Dame Coward gave a\nterrible jump, and gazed round her upon all sides for the cause of her\nalarm. She was seated on the very edge of her throne, with her two hands\nresting on the elbows, so that she might at once jump up and run away.\nLike her daughters, she was dressed in a material the colour of which\nwas constantly changing. A hare reposed on her knees.\n\n\u201cThis little page would be nice to eat,\u201d whispered Trepidation to her\nfather; \u201cdon\u2019t be too severe upon him.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere you are again with your absurdities! you have no force of\ncharacter,\u201d interposed Alarm. \u201cIf one ever listened to you, Heaven knows\nwhat would become of us.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must, at any price,\u201d said Dastardy, \u201cget rid of this young vixen,\nand I feel sure that by attacking her in the rear----\u201d\n\n\u201cI am afraid our last hour is come,\u201d said Apprehension, bursting into\ntears.\n\n\u201cYou are always the same,\u201d said Alarm. \u201cYou would never tire of throwing\nthe handle after the hatchet.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy don\u2019t you speak, sister?\u201d said Dastardy to Timidity, who was hiding\nherself. \u201cLet us hear your opinion.\u201d\n\n\u201cI--but--I don\u2019t know,\u201d stammered Timidity.\n\n\u201cYou never know anything,\u201d answered Dastardy, giving her sister a pinch\nthat nearly brought the blood, and then running away.\n\nPoor Timidity gave a shriek that made all the family jump again. The\nLord of Fear sprang back ten paces, and drew his dagger. Dame Coward\njumped up and let fall her hare, which immediately hid itself under her\npetticoat.\n\n[Illustration: 235]\n\n\u201cBe silent, idiots, and come round me again; that foolish Timidity\nhas given me a fright. The first who speaks shall be put in the dark\ncupboard.\u201d After this awful threat came the silence of death.\n\n\u201cWell, and what would you do here, little one?\u201d said the Lord of Fear,\nin the interval between two shivering fits.\n\n\u201cBy the Shrine of St. Landri,\u201d said Mitaine, clapping her hands on her\nhips, \u201cit must be admitted you have a strange way of receiving your\nguests. I have shrunk from nothing in order that I might see you, and my\nperseverance deserves a better return.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not answer my question. Why do you come here?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo drive you away.\u201d\n\nOn hearing these words the Lord of Fear shrank into himself until you\nwould have thought that half of him had disappeared, and Dame Coward\nsank back into her chair, behind which her daughters concealed\nthemselves.\n\n\u201cImprudent wretch!\u201d stuttered Fear, shaking until he nearly fell. \u201cHow\ndare you defy me thus?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo judge from your appearance,\u201d said Mitaine, smiling, \u201cthere\u2019s no\ngreat merit in that.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou dare to doubt my courage? You deserve to suffer the terrors of my\nvengeance.\u201d It was not without some difficulty that Fear uttered these\nwords, for his tongue was almost paralysed.\n\n\u201cYou have no influence over me; and all the absurd scarecrows you have\ncalled up to terrify me are only fit to be laughed at!\u201d\n\n\u201cMy name is the terror of the universe.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou libel the universe by saying so. Because a few weak minds allow\nyou to rule them, you consider yourself master of the world. Come out of\nyour den into the light of day, and see how you will be received!\u201d\n\n\u201cThe women are on my side!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are not! When they catch a glimpse of you they cannot in truth\nrepress an exclamation of natural disgust. An insect, a shadow, an\nunusual noise can make them tremble; but when a serious danger presents\nitself, when a great sentiment animates them, they will, as Christians,\ndie the death of martyrs; as wives, follow their husbands into battle,\nlike the Gallic women; and, as mothers, struggle with lions for the\nsafety of their children. They will, in short, achieve immortality, like\nJudith, like Lucretia, like St. Genevieve.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, at any rate, I have the children. The little people are my\nsubjects.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you dare to tell this to me? Why, you actually elevate impudence\nalmost to the position of courage. The children would obey you least of\nany of us if wicked teachers and foolish parents did not place them in\nyour power. They threaten them with the dark room, and they take care to\nlock you up there with them. They call the wolf to eat them. Did Romulus\nand Remus quake at the approach of their wild nurse? I am but a child,\nbut I know how much you are worth, and, by St. Landri\u2019s Shrine! I defy\nyou utterly.\u201d\n\nMitaine became aware of a low sound, and noticed a stir among the\ncorpses. At the end of one of the numberless passages that opened into\nthe hall where this happened there appeared some pale rays of light\nwhich seemed to come nearer. As their light grew more distinct that of\nthe toad began to die out, and the creature itself commenced shifting\nuneasily on its seat. The Lord of Fear seemed more alarmed than ever.\nHis teeth chattered like castanets--he had to make three attempts before\nhe could speak.\n\n\u201cYou do ill to deny my power; all these who surround me have\nacknowledged it!\u201d\n\n\u201cThey are ashamed of it now,\u201d cried Mitaine; and then turning to them,\nshe shouted, \u201cCan you submit to such a lord? You have only to make one\nstep towards him, and you will drive him and his wretched race from the\nface of the earth. Your hands are not dead, they are but benumbed for a\nwhile. Make one more effort. Fling yourselves on the tyrant. I will show\nyou the way!\u201d\n\nAt these words the dead let fall their winding-sheets, and discovered to\nview a legion of knights in rusty armour with their swords drawn. Alarm\ngave a shriek, which was answered by screams from Fear himself, from\nDame Coward, from Consternation, Fright, Terror, Dismay, Apprehension,\nTrepidation, Timidity, Pusillanimity, Poltroonery, and Dastardy.\n\nThen was seen a strange sight. The _bas-reliefs_ began to start\ninto life, and continued their wild dance along the pillars, to the\naccompaniment of alarming shrieks. The thunder rolled, and yawning\nfissures opened in the walls and ceiling. The earth gaped amid deafening\nclamours, and Mitaine found herself in the dark. She did not remain\nlong thus, for the galleries sank by degrees, and day came on apace.\nIts first rays glittered on her arms; the cheery voice of Chanticleer\nresounded, and, as if it had but waited the signal, the Fortress of Fear\nvanished into air!\n\nMitaine was mute with astonishment. How fair appeared the country to\nher! how beautiful the sun! and how softly did the breeze of morning woo\nher cheek! She fell on her knees, and uttered a heartfelt prayer.\n\nThe fields were variegated with a thousand colours, as though they\ncontained specimens of every kind of flower that blows. The birds joined\nin--never had they chanted a more joyous welcome to dawn. There was\nnothing left of the castle but the recollection, and that was already\ngrowing indistinct.\n\nWhen Mitaine had finished her orisons and rose to her feet, she\nbeheld an old man and a young woman gazing at her with an affectionate\nexpression. They were but a few steps from her, yet she could scarcely\nsee them, for they were enveloped in a faint mist.\n\n\u201cWho are you?\u201d she asked.\n\n\u201cYour grateful friends. You have delivered us from Fear, who used to\nhold us captive. For a long time we have ceased to breathe, but, thanks\nto you, we are about to see once more those from whom we were so hastily\nsnatched away. To-day is the Feast of the Dead, and heaven allows us to\npass the day on earth. All those whom you have delivered are going to\nescort you to Charlemagne\u2019s camp to testify to your great courage and\nnoble bearing.\u201d\n\nThen Mitaine saw gathered around her from all quarters a number of\nknights clad in armour that was eaten up with rust. They were of all\nages and of all countries, the greater part being mounted. A few women\nand children followed the procession. The footfalls were unheard, and\nleft no mark behind them. The figures were transparent, bathed in a\nstrange mist, to which the sun gave an opalescent gleam.\n\nHaving ranged themselves in column, they began to march onward, and\nMitaine retraversed the places which had seemed to her so terrific\non the preceding night: the stone bridge across the torrent, the wall\ncovered with creepers, and almost hidden by acacia boughs, the forest of\nnaked stems--everything, in short, appeared full of gaiety now that the\nsun was shining.\n\nShe called to her the old man who had lately addressed her, and bade him\ntell her what were the tortures, the sight of which had so roused her.\n\n\u201cThose,\u201d said the dead man, \u201cwere the halls of nightmare, my child. The\nLord of Fear gives his victims no rest. He and Sleep, who delivers them\ninto his hand, understand each other. Incubi, demons, vampires,\nand ghoules form his terrible executioners, and preside over the\npunishments. You have seen them at their task, I need not attempt to\ndescribe them!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat can defend us against them?\u201d\n\n\u201cA clear conscience and a good digestion.\u201d\n\nIn a quarter of an hour Mitaine perceived the hut at which she had\nstopped on the night before. The peasant was seated on the ground among\nhis little ones.\n\n\u201cThank heaven!\u201d said she. \u201cPoor old man, your feeble sight will not,\ndoubtless, allow you to distinguish your son as yet. But you, his wife,\nyou can no doubt perceive him.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe have never ceased to see him since we parted,\u201d said she. \u201cThere is\nneither limit nor let to the vision of the dead.\u201d\n\nThe peasant turned his head, saw the procession approaching, recognised\nMitaine, and, with a shout of surprise, at once ran to meet her.\n\nEre he had reached half-way, his glance fell on his father and his wife,\nand, overcome with joy, he sank on his knees, stretching out his arms\ntowards them. He would fain have spoken, but could find no language\nto express in fitting terms the joy he experienced. He scarce dared to\nmove, lest he should put to flight the beloved group he saw before him.\nWhen he had ascertained that he was not suffering from an illusion,\ntears filled his eyes, and, clasping his hands, he fell on his face,\nsaying, \u201cKind Heaven, I am indeed grateful for this!\u201d\n\nI will not attempt to describe to you the joy of these three, whom death\nhad, for a while, no power to separate. The mother covered her babes\nwith kisses. The peasant, now as aged as his father had been, could not\ntear himself from his arms. Their white beards mingled at each embrace.\nThe first outburst of joy over, they all three turned to Mitaine, and\nkissed her hands.\n\n\u201cWho could have forewarned you of all this happiness, my son?\u201d said the\nfather.\n\n\u201cDo you not know, then? My child, who, some years ago lost his reason,\nhas become the cleverest of the family since daybreak this morning.\nHenceforth there are no saints in the calendar I shall revere as I do\nyou!\u201d said he to Mitaine, who had no small difficulty in freeing herself\nfrom the demonstrations of gratitude of which she was the object. She\ncalled for the horse which she had left with her host of the previous\nnight, and rode away at full gallop, followed by her fantastic escort.\n\nIn about six hours she saw the camp of Charlemagne. The sentinels\non outpost duty, seeing a cloud of dust in the distance coming along\ntowards them with such speed, fell back and gave the alarm.\n\n\u201cWhat is it?\u201d said the Emperor. \u201cWho are these that thus fall into our\nhands? Go, Miton; mount your horse, take an escort, and inspect these\nnew comers.\u201d\n\nIn a moment the whole camp was alive. Every one put on his corslet,\nlaced his helm, seized his lance, and sprang to saddle. Miton chose\nthirty mounted knights and led them out.\n\n\u201cBy my faith!\u201d said he, \u201cthese be strange folks. To judge from their\nsize they ought not to be far off, and yet I can hardly make them out.\nCan you see them better, Red John?\u201d he asked one of his men.\n\n\u201cNot I! My wonder is as great as yours. But is not that a page in the\nimperial livery who is riding at their head?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my life, it is Mitaine!\u201d And Miton spurred forward at such speed\nthat in three minutes he was in his daughter\u2019s arms. The ghostly\nsquadron halted, and the thirty knights halted likewise, striving to\npacify their startled horses, which were snuffing the air, snorting with\ndilated nostrils, pawing the ground, and neighing as if ready to die of\nterror.\n\n\u201cWho are these whom you are leading?\u201d\n\n\u201cThose whom I have liberated.\u201d\n\n\u201cLiberated! How?\u201d\n\n\u201cI will tell you all in the Emperor\u2019s presence. The sun is low already,\nand we have no time to spare.\u201d\n\nMiton and his thirty knights, and Mitaine with her strange followers,\nrode towards the camp. Charlemagne, surrounded by his peers, came out to\nmeet them.\n\n\u201cBy St. James! these people look as if they didn\u2019t belong to this world.\nAnd if I am not stupidly mistaken, it is my godchild who commands them.\u201d\n\nMitaine dismounted, and approached her royal godsire, who asked her,\n\u201cWell, little one, what is this strange array? Do you know that I have\na mind to punish you, and yet I haven\u2019t the heart to scold you, I am so\nrejoiced to see you again, and so anxious to learn who these are that\naccompany you.\u201d\n\n\u201cMy prisoners, sire!\u201d And the spectres lowered their lances to show\ntheir submission to her.\n\n\u201cBut whence come they? Have you been to seek them in another world?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy my faith, sire, I could almost believe I passed last night there;\u201d\n and she related her adventures briefly to Charlemagne in the presence of\nhis peers and knights.\n\n\u201cCome, let me embrace you, my darling. So it appears I have promised you\nsomething. What is it?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou promised me, sire, to ask Roland to take me into his service as a\nsquire.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Roland whom I reward by giving him such a treasure. What say you,\nnephew mine?\u201d\n\nThe only answer Roland gave was to clasp Mitaine in his arms. The little\nheroine, ruddy with joy, turned to her escort to thank them. They had\ndisappeared! On seeing this, Charlemagne sank 011 his knees; his example\nwas followed by all the rest, and Turpin recited the prayers for the\ndead.\n\nThus ended the adventure undertaken by Mitaine.\n\nI wish I could tell you, my friends, that the Fortress of Fear was\ndestroyed for good and all. I am compelled, as a veracious chronicler,\nto confess that it was rebuilt the same evening.\n\nYou will some day or other, my young friends, most assuredly fall in\nwith the Lord of Fear. Call to mind Mitaine whenever you do meet him,\nand remember that the monster can boast no weapons save those you\nsurrender to him--no power save that which you give him--no courage save\nthat which you lose.\n\n[Illustration: 241]\n\n\nEND OF THE THIRD BOOK\n\n\n\n\nEPILOGUE -- RONCESVALLES -- A. D. 778.\n\n[Illustration: 245]\n\nYOU have, I hope, not forgotten, my dear readers, that Charlemagne had\ndispatched Ganelon to Aquitaine. For the shame and injury of France, the\nCount of Mayence had turned this trip to good account, by establishing\na perfect understanding between himself and our old and little-respected\nfriend, Wolf. They decided on the destruction of Charlemagne and his\npeers; but as for attacking them openly, they did not dream of that!\n\n\u201cI will undertake,\u201d said Ganelon, \u201cto lead them into the mountains, if\nyou will only place some twenty thousand Navarrese and Gascons on the\nheights that I will show you. Then we shall be able in perfect safety to\ncrush beneath the rocks this haughty and hated brood.\u201d\n\nAbout the same period Marsillus had called his warriors together, and\nwas conversing with them, reposing in the shade on the white marble\nsteps of his palace.\n\n\u201cMy friends, since this accursed Charles has set foot in Spain, we\nhave never had a moment\u2019s peace. Great as has been the bravery we have\ndisplayed, we have been everywhere worsted. We can do no more, for each\nhas done his best. I suppose you are none of you less desirous than I\nto yield this beautiful Spain to these Northern barbarians. Aid me,\ntherefore, by your counsels to avenge our disasters.\u201d\n\nBlancandrin, the wisest and most crafty of the Pagans, was the first to\nspeak.\n\n\u201cThe fox often passes where the lion cannot. Well, then, since we fail\nas lions, let us assume the part of foxes, instead of wasting our time\nin idle laments, and our resources in vain endeavours. Charles is very\nproud; and when pride is warder, the city is ill-watched. Profess a\nrespectful regard for this crowned bully; tell him you desire to be\nbaptised, and appoint a meeting with him in his own dominions. Promise\nto meet him there by Michaelmas, with your principal nobles, to do\nhomage to him, and to acknowledge the Christian faith. Add further, that\nyou will make him a present of three hundred mules, laden with gold\nand silver; a hundred chariots, filled with a countless stock of rare\nstuffs; numberless war-steeds; three hundred trained falcons, lions,\nand leopards broken-in for the chase; besides five hundred fair Saracen\ndamsels, if such be his good pleasure. The invaders have been a long\ntime from home, and have left their estates in the charge of their\nwives. There is not one of them who would not be glad of a rest. As soon\nas they have divided the booty, they will all be pressing the king to\nreturn, and when once they get home again, he will have no easy task to\nprevail on them to stir a second time.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe advice is good, possibly, but Charles is not the man to be\nsatisfied with simple promises.\u201d\n\n\u201cSend him hostages--ten, twenty, thirty, if he asks for them. Would it\nnot be better to lose a few women and children than the whole of Spain?\nI offer to give my son as a hostage, at the risk of his life.\u201d\n\nThis counsel was considered sound, and was approved by all.\n\n\u201cGo, then,\u201d said Marsillus to Blancandrin. \u201cI promise you a splendid\nescort when you set out, and boundless rewards on your return. Exchange\nthe sword for the olive branch, and be not sparing in promises.\u201d\n\nThe envoys were accordingly mounted on white mules, with trappings\nand bells of gold and silver, and before long set out for the camp of\nCharlemagne.\n\nWhen the envoys arrived, no time was lost in introducing them into the\nEmperor\u2019s presence. His Majesty of the snowy beard was sitting in\nhis orchard surrounded by his bravest warriors. The younger ones were\npractising the use of arms; the elder were talking or playing at chess.\n\nBlancandrin, after having saluted Charles with dignified courtesy,\ndelivered his message so cunningly, that the nobles began to shout,\n\u201cHurrah, now we shall speedily return home!\u201d Charlemagne, however,\nremained lost in meditation. It was not his habit to give way readily\neither to astonishment or disappointment. At last he rose and said, \u201cThe\nnews you bring me causes me great pleasure. It King Marsillus is\nreally desirous of securing his soul\u2019s safety, let him meet me at\nAix-la-Chapelle, and I will welcome him there as a brother.\u201d\n\nA tent was prepared for Blancandrin and his suite, on whom every\nattention and boundless generosity were lavished.\n\nThe next day, after mass and matins, the Emperor wisely called together\nhis peers to learn what they thought of the speech of the envoy from\nthe Court of the King of Saragossa. Naymes of Bavaria, a knight of great\nrenown, and one of the king\u2019s best counsellors, rose and spoke:--\u201cSire,\nyou have beaten the enemy wherever he has dared to offer battle. Of his\nfortresses, not one stone rests on another; his cities have been burnt;\nhis troops have been either killed or converted. You have raised the\ncross wherever it had been formerly overthrown; what can you desire\nmore? You are offered a ransom for the kingdom in which you will hold\nthe sovereign power; a nation of unbelievers demands baptism at your\nhands, and offers you hostages. It would be a sin to continue a warfare\nwhich has no longer any object. Such is my opinion!\u201d\n\nAfter this speech, Roland was not slow to spring to his feet.\n\n\u201cSo it is you, then, Naymes, whom I hear? and can you give such counsel?\nMarsillus is your enemy, sire, and you have scarcely treated him in a\nway to make him very anxious to embrace you. Do not turn your back upon\nSpain until your undertaking is accomplished; we have been here longer\nalready than was necessary for its completion. Send home those brave\nsoldiers who have tired of war before they have completed their\nconquest, and I venture to say that with those who remain you shall\nplant the cross within sight of Africa, if such be your good pleasure.\nHow can you trust the words of a Pagan? Have you already forgotten the\nfate to which Marsillus condemned two of your nobles, the Counts Basan\nand Basilic? They went on an embassy from you to the King of Saragossa,\nand he had them beheaded on Mount Hautille. It was your honour, sire,\nwhich that day fell beneath the infidel axe. Will you let them trample\nit under foot because a few prudent warriors would be glad to abandon\nthis undertaking? Go, then, but I must remain! I shall stay here to make\nmy death so glorious that you will all envy me.\u201d\n\nDuring this speech Charles knitted his brows and tugged his long\nmoustache; seeing which, Ganelon rose in his turn.\n\n\u201cThese be proud words, forsooth! I could not but ask myself when I heard\nthem whether we live in the reign of Roland or of Charlemagne. This sort\nof thing is easily spoken, and sounds remarkably well, like everything\nthat\u2019s hollow. We are told to retreat; are we in the habit of doing\nso? Does it not look as if Roland had been conquering Spain while we\nfollowed at a respectful distance? Forgive my anger, sire, but I cannot\nhelp speaking somewhat freely. Take no one\u2019s counsel but your own, sire,\nand you will do right.\u201d\n\nThereupon Charlemagne asked his knights which of them would like to\ncarry his message to Marsillus. All rose and offered to go, Roland being\nmore importunate than all the others.\n\n\u201cYou\u2019ll deafen me, nephew,\u201d said the Emperor. \u201cI shall certainly not\nsend you on a mission you have just condemned. My friend Ganelon shall\ncarry my wishes to the King of Saragossa. To him will I entrust the\ngauntlet and truncheon.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat is indeed a wise choice,\u201d said Roland, laughing. \u201cYou will nowhere\nfind a more cautious ambassador.\u201d\n\n\u201cEnough said! By my beard, nephew mine, you will provoke me too far\npresently. Be seated, and wait until I bid you speak.\u201d\n\n\u201cSire,\u201d said Ganelon, \u201cfrom such a mission one does not always return.\nI recommend to your care my son Baldwin, who will one day be a brave\nwarrior.\u201d\n\nCharlemagne handed the gauntlet to the Count of Mayence, who let it fall\non the ground. \u201cA bad omen!\u201d said the Franks, seeing it. \u201cRoland may be\nright after all!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou will hear of me before long, gentlemen,\u201d said Ganelon, with an\nill-favoured smile.\n\nThen, furnished with truncheon and letter, he made ready to set out on\nhis mission.\n\nGanelon and Blancandrin, followed by the Saracen body-guard, journeyed\nfor three days side by side. The Pagan was not slow to perceive in a\nmoment the hatred entertained by the Count of Mayence for Roland, and he\nrejoiced to see it. Let us hear what they are talking about.\n\n\u201cWhence comes it,\u201d said Blancandrin, \u201cthat your sovereign, instead of\nseeking an alliance with us, made war on us so fiercely?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is Roland who is always egging him on. But for him, we should long\nsince have returned to France.\u201d\n\nThey reached the camp of Marsillus. Fifty thousand Saracens surrounded\nthe King of Saragossa, but they maintained perfect silence, for fear of\nlosing a syllable of what was going to be said.\n\n\u201cMay Allah and Mahomet preserve you, beloved sovereign! We have borne\nyour message, and we bring back to you one of the noblest peers of the\nCourt of France, to decide with you on peace or war.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am prepared to give him an immediate audience.\u201d\n\nMarsillus and Ganelon remained shut up together for two hours--two\nhours, which laid the foundation of ages of regret. When the tent was o\no re-opened the \u2018King of Saragossa came out, leaning on the arm of the\nFrench envoy. Had Roland come instead of Ganelon, that would never have\nhappened.\n\n\u201cGentlemen,\u201d said Marsillus to his nobles, \u201cwelcome the preserver of\nSpain! This lord, although a Christian, is a true friend to us, and I\ndesire that he be treated as such.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 248]\n\nA Saracen advanced, drew his sword from its sheath, and presented it to\nGanelon.\n\n\u201cThis weapon is the best in the world,\u201d said he. \u201cIts jewelled hilt\nalone is estimated at thirty thousand bezants, at the lowest, and yet\nthe blade is even more valuable. Accept it, and may it serve you well\nagainst Roland.\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 250]\n\n\u201cI will put it to the test,\u201d said the Count of Mayence, coolly; and the\ntraitor and unbeliever kissed each other.\n\nThe queen passed by Marsillus stopped her _cortege_, and bade her\ndismount, saying, \u201cThis is our best of friends. You owe it to him that\nwe shall remain under that Spanish sky which you love so much. Embrace\nhim for the love of us all.\u201d\n\n\u201cWith all my heart,\u201d said the Sultana. \u201cI wish you also, Sir Ganelon,\nto bear to your wife from me these bracelets, which are the finest in my\npossession. Neither the Pope at Rome nor the Emperor at Aix-la-Chapelle\ncan boast anything to equal them among all their treasures.\u201d\n\nAll vied in paying the Count attention, and in loading him with the most\nprecious gifts. .\n\nThe same evening Ganelon returned to the French camp, accompanied by\npresents and hostages for the Emperor.\n\nThree days later, at early dawn, Ganelon and his escort arrived at\nCharlemagne\u2019s quarters.\n\n\u201cSo you have returned,\u201d said Charles. \u201cHave you sped well with your\nmission?\u201d\n\n\u201cSire, you have nothing more to do here! The gallant King Marsillus is\naltogether your devoted liegeman. Behold the treasures he sends you, as\na guarantee of others yet more valuable. See, too, the hostages whom\nI have chosen, thirty in number, all of them of the noblest rank. In\na month the King of the Saracens will visit you at the French Court to\nreceive baptism, together with all his nobles and knights.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou could not bring me more welcome news, and I rejoice greatly that I\nchose you for the mission. Before long _you_ will have reason to rejoice\nat it too!\u201d\n\nHis audience concluded, Ganelon retired with his nephew Pinabel, to whom\nhe wished to reveal the real state of the case. It happened that Mitaine\npreceded them into the stable, towards which the traitor took his way,\nand knowing the hate the count bore to Roland, her friend, she was\ncurious to hear him speak openly. She therefore crept up in the manger,\nand hid herself among the hay in the rack.\n\n[Illustration: 251]\n\nThis second Judas, going up to his horse, began to talk as follows:--\n\n\u201cMarsillus, who had treated me distantly enough in the morning,\napologised at night for so doing, and, as a slight reparation, presented\nme with some valuable sables. I gave him to understand the dreadful fate\nthat awaited him, and assured him that Roland was the only obstacle in\nthe way of our return to France. \u2018Hope for no mercy,\u2019 said I, \u2018while\nRoland lives.\u2019 \u2018How can we kill him?\u2019 said he. Whereupon I answered, I\nwould undertake to do it with his assistance. \u2018What can I do?\u2019 he asked.\n\u2018I will tell you what I have planned,\u2019 said I. \u2018Before long we shall be\non the march for France. The most dangerous post is the rear-guard, and\nthat Roland will claim. When he reaches the pass of Roncesvalles,\nsurrounded by the flower of our chivalry, twenty thousand Navarrese and\nGascons, posted there by me, will hurl down a very shower of rocks. Take\nadvantage of the surprise, and with two hundred thousand men fall on\nthem in the rear. I won\u2019t guarantee your men\u2019s lives, but you must carry\non the battle incessantly, and at last Roland must be slain.\u2019 \u2018It is\nvery well said,\u2019 answered the king; \u2018this counsel is worth ten mules,\nladen with gold pieces, and I will pay you that sum yearly as long as I\nlive.\u2019\u201d\n\nAt this point Pinabel, observing that Ganelon\u2019s horse, although it had\njust come off a long journey, only smelt at the rack without touching\nits contents, took a pitchfork, and in order to find out what hindered\nthe animal from eating, thrust it into the hay. One of the prongs\npierced Mitaine\u2019s thigh, but she nevertheless remained silent,\ndetermined not to lose for a cry the advantage of the conversation she\nhad overheard.\n\n\u201cThere\u2019s nothing there,\u201d said Pinabel.\n\n\u201cWhat did you think there would be? Don\u2019t you know that a good horse\nnever eats much in the morning?\u201d And with that the worthy couple quitted\nthe stable.\n\nMitaine had great difficulty in crawling back to Miton\u2019s tent. She\ndressed her wound with a celebrated ointment, which is still in great\nuse--the \u201cBalm of Miton-Mitaine\u201d--and was able to present herself the\nsame evening before Roland.\n\nThe Count of Mans listened to what his squire had to tell.\n\n\u201cThis is good news you bring me, little one; and, with the aid of\nHeaven, I will find a way thereby to rid the world of this traitor\nGanelon.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat!\u201d said Mitaine; \u201cwill you not alter your line of march?\u201d\n\n\u201cRemember this: he who finds a snake in his path has two alternatives to\nchoose between. He can either make a _d\u00e9tour_, and continue his route,\nby doing which he leaves an enemy in his rear; or he can go straight\nto the monster and kill it, which is the safer course. There is, by\nthe way, a third solution of the matter--flight; but, of course, no one\nwould dream of that. I shall take care not to neglect the opportunity\nwhich is offered me. In the meantime, swear to keep strict silence on\nthis point!\u201d\n\nThe trumpets resounded through the camp of Marsillus. The unbelievers\nplaced themselves in ambush beside the French line of march, and waited\nfor the next morning.\n\nThe clarions rang out through the camp of Charlemagne. The hour of\ndeparture had come. Charles rode proudly amid his gallant knights.\n\n\u201cWho will lead the rear-guard through the passes of Cisaire?\u201d asked the\nEmperor of his nobles.\n\n\u201cCount Roland,\u201d suggested Ganelon, \u201csince he is the bravest. Does not\nthe place of danger belong to him?\u201d\n\n\u201cCount of Mayence, some evil intention influences that speech.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy so, sire?\u201d interposed Roland. \u201cSir Ganelon is right. The task is\nmine--I claim it.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d said the Emperor. \u201cMy peers shall accompany you with\ntwenty-five thousand horsemen.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Saracens will have a hot day\u2019s work,\u201d said Ganelon to himself.\n\nThe Saracens were concealed in the forests at the entrance of the pass.\nThe Navarrese and Gascons (everlasting shame upon them!) were lying\nin ambush on the heights, ready to hurl death upon their brother\nChristians.\n\nThe vanguard, consisting of twenty thousand men, led by Ogier the Dane,\nwas first to present itself. But it was not they who were wanted---they\nwere allowed to pass.\n\nCharlemagne came next, with Ganelon in attendance upon him. For six\nhours the troops, the wagons, the booty, were slowly marching through\nthe defile. There was an abundance of wealth; but who dared touch it?\nThey were suffered to pass. Finally came the rear-guard, led by Roland.\nThen the Pagans began to be on the move, the Gascons prepared for\naction. The great carnage was about to begin.\n\nMarsillus was on horseback at the head of his troops. Buriabel, King of\nAlexandria, came swaggering up to him.\n\n\u201cSire, I have brought you thirty thousand soldiers, fully armed. I have\nnot hesitated to risk my life in your service. In return for this, I\nonly ask one thing--the honour of despatching Roland. If I meet him, he\ndies!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou forget, it appears to me,\u201d said the King of Saragossa, in a severe\ntone, \u201cthat I am here. I am not in the habit of handing over difficult\ntasks to others; Roland belongs to me! You will have enough to do with\nthe rest.\u201d\n\nThen, armed to the teeth, they rode forward in serried ranks.\n\nThe Franks entered the pass. Roland halted them, and spoke:--\u201cBrothers\nin arms! We are going to have a tough day\u2019s work. But few of us will\never again behold fair France. Ganelon, the traitor, has brought us to\nthis evil pass! He has sold us to the Saracens. In a few minutes\nthese rocks will be hurled down upon us, and we shall hear the Saracen\ntrumpets sounding. They do not know that we are forewarned, and the\nsound of our bugles will be the signal. Let those who are in doubt about\nour safety, therefore, leave us to join the main body. But let those,\nwho desire wounds more awful than death--those who are ready to\nsacrifice their lives, in order to be revenged on Ganelon--let those\nremain with me!\u201d Not a single knight quitted the ranks.\n\n\u201cIf any one of us escapes, his life must be devoted to the extermination\nof Ganelon, and all his race. For my part, I swear to do this!\u201d\n\nAll repeated the oath. Roland heard behind him a voice, shriller than\nany of the others, cry, \u201cBy the Shrine of St. Landri, death to the Count\nof Mayence!\u201d\n\nHe turned, and saw Mitaine.\n\n\u201cAh, unhappy child, what are you doing here? You know well what fate\nawaits us. Is this a place for babes-in-arms?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do wrong to blame me, sir knight. You will, perhaps, have reason to\nbe sorry for your words before sunset.\u201d\n\nMitaine was on the summit of a peak. She gazed around on all sides, and\nsoon discovered the enemy. The sun was shining brightly, and glistened\non corslet and casque, spear and pennon. At the same moment the neighing\nof horses reached her ear.\n\n[Illustration: 255]\n\n\u201cThe Saracens are coming from the Spanish side. They are so many in\nnumber, it is difficult to understand how any troops can be left to\nguard the cities. If we had to encounter so large a Christian army, the\nresult would be doubtful. But these are Pagans, and Heaven will not fail\nus.\u201d\n\n\u201cIf that be the case,\u201d said Oliver, \u201cyou had better sound your horn,\nfriend Roland. Charlemagne has not gone far and will return at once to\nour aid on hearing it.\u201d\n\n\u201cWe must wield swords, not horns, here. The way is open, if you fear the\nadventure is too arduous.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrust me, comrade; in a few moments it will be too late. Wind your\nhorn!\u201d\n\n\u201cYou give me base counsel! It shall never be told that Roland quitted\nhis grasp of Durandal to wind his horn for aid against Pagans!\u201d\n\n\u201cSo be it,\u201d said Oliver. \u201cWe will not quarrel about it.\u201d\n\nRoland turned to Gautier de Luz, and said to him--\n\n\u201cDismount, Gautier, and let two thousand of our knights do the same.\nYou will take the command of them, climb the mountain, and take these\naccursed Gascons in the rear before we enter the pass. Cut them\nup without mercy, like dogs as they are, and then, when you have\naccomplished the task, sound on your horn. We shall then draw on the\nSaracens in pursuit, and when I give the signal, do you roll down on\nthem the rocks prepared for our destruction.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell conceived,\u201d said Hoel of Nantes. \u201cAn excellent jest. I would not\nexchange my place here for anything in the whole world!\u201d\n\nTwo thousand knights dismounted, and with Gautier de Luz at their head,\ncommenced the ascent. Mitaine, more active and lighter than the others,\nwent first to reconnoitre. Roland followed them with his eyes until they\ndisappeared behind the rocks.\n\nIn about a quarter of an hour, which, I can assure you, seemed long\nenough to those below, a great uproar broke out, and the Navarrese and\nGascons appeared in disorder on the cliffs. They were close pressed, and\nthose who were not put to the sword on the spot, were flung down into\nthe ravine, in which there was soon an almost insurmountable heap of\ndead bodies. There was hardly a bush that was not adorned with some\nbleeding fragment or other.\n\nPresently was heard the bugle note which announced that the heights were\ntaken, and Roland, followed by some thousands of knights, rode out to\nmeet the Saracens.\n\n\u201cWhat is the meaning of this?\u201d said Marsillus, on beholding the\nChristians issuing from the pass. \u201cIt strikes me these brave warriors\nare afraid to attempt the pass. But we know how to compel them to do so.\nTheir graves are dug there, and there they must sleep this night--and\nnowhere else!\u201d\n\nThirty thousand Saracens spurred forward in haste, and grew doubly\ncourageous on beholding the Christians turn to retreat.\n\n\u201cWhat have they been telling us about the courage of these people?\u201d said\nArroth, the nephew of Marsillus. \u201cSo far, there has been more of the\nchase than the combat. We need hardly have come in such numbers.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour words are wanting in sense,\u201d said Turgis of Toulouse. \u201cPray Heaven\nto allow your brains to grow old enough to perceive the folly.\u201d\n\nThe Saracens entered the defile in pursuit of the Franks, who had\nsurmounted all the obstacles in the pass. Their pursuers, however,\nhalted in wonder before the heap of dead bodies that barred their\npassage. Roland took advantage of their hesitation and gave the signal,\non hearing Avhich Gautier de Luz set to work. Huge blocks of stone\ncrashed down from overhead, involving horses and men; living, dead, and\nwounded; Saracens, Gascons, and Navarrese, in one common destruction.\nThe pass was completely blocked up.\n\n[Illustration: 261]\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d said Roland, \u201cGanelon contrived this trap very cleverly. But\none cannot foresee everything in this world, and in this instance it is\nthe hare that is hunting; the hounds!\u201d\n\nThe Pagans who returned to the King of Saragossa were barely eight\nthousand, including the wounded who had escaped destruction. They had\nflung away their banners and their arms in order to facilitate their\nflight.\n\n\u201cIs this what you promised us?\u201d they cried, threateningly, to Marsillus.\n\u201cWe have just fallen into a snare laid for us by Ganelon. Ah, dastard of\na Roland, treacherous Count of Mayence, coward of an Emperor, you shall\nhear more of us yet! By Mahomet, our vengeance shall be something to\nspeak of, rascals!\u201d\n\nA hundred thousand Saracen knights pricked forward at full speed, taking\na different road, which permitted them to cut off the retreat of the\nFranks. In the meantime Gautier de Luz and Mitaine had rejoined Roland.\n\nArchbishop Turpin had ridden to a slight eminence. The twenty thousand\nknights were on their knees around him.\n\n\u201cPrepare to perish nobly, my brothers-in-arms,\u201d said he to them. \u201cThe\nheroes who do not shrink from the fight will sleep in Paradise by\nsunset. All your past sins shall be atoned for by cuts or thrusts of\nsword or lance. I absolve you all from this moment!\u201d\n\nHe gave them his blessing, and they rose, comforted and encouraged.\n\nPresently the sound of the enemies\u2019 horses was heard, and before long\nthe two armies had encountered each other. Lances were shattered--the\nfield wras covered with fragments of arms and armour. Death had made a\nspeedy harvest, and riderless horses were galloping hither and thither,\namid the groans and cries of the wounded.\n\nEverywhere destruction was being dealt out.\n\nAt the head of the Saracens rode Arroth, nephew of Marsillus.\n\n\u201cBy Allah! Charlemagne must be childish to give the command of the\nrear-guard of his forces to Roland.\u201d\n\nThe Count of Mans heard him, but answered not. Lance in rest, he rode\ndown on him. Good heavens! what a thrust!--nothing could resist it. It\nclave the shield of the nephew of the King of Saragossa, pierced his\nchest, broke his spine, and pinned him to the earth.\n\nFauseron, brother of King Marsillus, beheld Miton, and shouted to\nhim--\u201cYour Emperor, Charlemagne, must be sorely jealous of the fame of\nhis knights, to send them to be slaughtered thus.\u201d\n\nMiton dashed at him with uplifted blade, and dealt him three terrific\nwounds: a partridge might have flown through any one of them with ease.\n\n\u201cYou lie, knave!\u201d cried the father of Mitaine; \u201cour Charles is the\nbravest of the brave, and whoever questions it shall die the death of a\ndog--as you die!\u201d\n\nAnseis charged at Turgis of Toulouse, and ran him through with his\nlance. The white pennon was stained crimson with the thrust.\n\nBut I should never finish if I told you all the wonderful blows they\ninterchanged. At last the spear of Roland shivered. He drew Durandal and\nrushed into the thickest of the fight, slicing off heads with his sword\nas easily as a pigeon severs the heads of millet with its sharp beak.\n\nThe fury of the combat was redoubled. The Franks performed prodigies of\nvalour, but the Saracens seemed never to tire of being slaughtered. No\nsooner were thirty thousand Pagans stretched on the earth than thirty\nthousand more offered themselves for slaughter. The swords were blunted\nwith repeated blows, but the strength of the heroes wearied not. How\nmany Christians had received the crown of martyrdom! Yonder they lay,\ntrampled under the horses\u2019 hoofs, while their mothers, their wives,\ntheir daughters were, perchance, singing cheerily as they awaited their\nreturn.\n\nAt length came a time when there were no more Saracens left to kill. Of\na hundred thousand Pagans but two survived.\n\n\u201cMountjoy St. Denis!\u201d resounded over the field. But lo! King Marsillus\narrived with the main body.\n\nThey had only encountered the advanced guard!\n\n\u201cBrethren,\u201d said Turpin, pointing to the Saracens with his mace, \u201cyonder\ncomes our death-struggle. Let us be polite, and go meet it; we shall\nonly be in Paradise the sooner!\u201d and he rode off as swiftly as if he\nbestrode a swallow.\n\n\u201cShame, false friend, to outstrip me!\u201d cried Roland, spurring\nVeillantif. \u201cBishop, do not perish without e!\u201d\n\nOnce more the contest raged furiously. Turpin perceived Abyme, the most\nunbelieving Pagan of them all.\n\n\u201cWhat deity do you serve?\u201d cried the bishop.\n\n\u201cNone,\u201d said the heretic; whereupon, with three mighty blows of his\nmace, Turpin scattered over the field the amethysts, topazes, and\ncarbuncles that covered the Pagan\u2019s shield. At the third blow the soul\nof Abyme fled to the regions below.\n\nClimborin smote down Angelier of Gascony, but he did not live more than\nten seconds to enjoy his conquest. Miton had seen the deed, lowered his\nlance, and pierced the Pagan\u2019s throat.\n\n\u201cThere, dog! you may go boast of your victory!\u201d said he, as he rode off.\n\nOliver had rested but little all this while; he drove right and left\nat the ranks of the enemy, brandishing Hauteclaire, mowing the Saracens\ndown like stubble.\n\nHis shield was of gold, charged with a red cross.\n\n\u201cThat is a foul blazon,\u201d said Valdabron, striking the shield with his\nlance.\n\n\u201cNevertheless, you shall bow to it,\u201d answered the brother of Aude, and\nwith one back-stroke he beheaded the paynim.\n\nThe Duke Sanche was slain: it was Haucuidant who struck the fatal blow;\nby his hand, too, perished Gerin and Anseis, Beranger and Guy de St.\nAntoine. But Roland rode right at the Pagan, and with the hilt of\nDurandal crushed his face in, and flung him, an unrecognisable corpse\nunder his horse\u2019s hoofs.\n\n\u201cIt is truly sad that we can only kill once a hound who has done so much\nmischief.\u201d\n\nThen the knight stood up in his stirrups, and gazed around him. Merciful\nheavens, what a sight! Out of the twenty thousand Franks who had come\nthere, but sixty remained alive.\n\n\u201cBy my hopes of Heaven!\u201d said Roland, \u201cI should die the happier if I\ncould but bear Marsillus with me to the grave. But how can I find him\namid such a m\u00eal\u00e9e?\u201d\n\nMitaine heard him.\n\n\u201cI will show him to you, if you will follow me;\u201d and she began to strip\noff her armour piecemeal. Roland caught her by the arm to stop her--?\n\n\u201cWhat proof of madness are you going to give us now?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou take wisdom for folly, my lord. Do you think I should be suffered\nto pass, wearing your colours? My mother used to scold me for spoiling\nmy clothes; they might get damaged now.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd you think I am going to let you perish like this?\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it not absurd to make all this difficulty about it? Have we not come\nhere to die?\u201d\n\nAnd Mitaine freed herself from his grasp, and sprang on a Saracen horse\nthat she caught as it went riderless by. She was naked to the waist, and\nher golden hair floated around her shoulders. She seemed like the spirit\nof youth. Death fled from the presence of such lofty courage.\n\n\u201cCome and seek me, dastard of a Croquemitaine!\u201d she cried. \u201cHere I am\nwell protected from thee.\u201d\n\nRoland followed her; his eyes were blinded with tears.\n\n\u201cMerciful heaven! what will they say of me for all these deaths? I shall\nscarce dare to show myself to-night in Paradise.\u201d\n\nMitaine had caught sight of the King of Saragossa, and made direct for\nhim, without looking right or left. Miton, whose headlong courage had\ncarried him into the ranks of the foe, was beside her, surrounded by the\nSaracens. He was striking out right and left at random, thinking only\nto hack and hew the bodies of Pagans. Alas for the double misfortune!\nMitaine drew near him and her father\u2019s sword traced a gory slash across\nher shoulder. She turned, and father and child recognised each other.\n\n\u201cIs it you my father? It was a good stroke, but \u2018tis wasted!\u201d Horrified\nat the sight, Miton for a second forgot to defend himself.\n\nIn another moment poor Mita was a widow!\n\nMeanwhile Mitaine had ridden close up to Marsillus, and rising up in\nher stirrups, to make sure Roland should see her, smote him on the face,\ncrying, as loud as she was able--\u201cBehold the King of Saragossa! Mountjoy\nfor Charlemagne!\u201d\n\nShe could say no more. Marganice, King of Carthage, and uncle of\nMarsillus, dealt her a blow on the chest that was far heavier than was\nneeded. The poor girl sank, insensible, and rolled under the horse\u2019s\nhoofs, with blood gushing from her lips and nostrils.\n\nWhen Roland saw this, his rage overpowered him. He drew near Oliver, and\nsaid, \u201cBrother, shall we go slay that boastful Marsillus yonder?\u201d\n\n\u201cIt shall be done,\u201d said the other.\n\nThey dashed forward, followed by a few of the Franks still remaining on\nthe field--Beuve, Lord of Beaune and Dijon, whose death was a sore loss\nto Charles--Yve, and Yvoire, and Gerard of Roussillon. Roland and Oliver\npenetrated farthest into the infidel ranks; at last they came within a\nfew paces of Marsillus.\n\n\u201cIs it you, then, whom they call the King Marsillus?\u201d said Roland.\n\n\u201cIt is a name the Franks will not forget.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am called Roland. If you never knew me before you shall know me\nto-day;\u201d and with that he smote off the King\u2019s right hand as he raised\nit to strike.\n\nThe Saracens shouted in alarm, \u201cMahomet preserve us!\u201d and fled like\ndoves before an eagle. If they had found legs to bring them thither,\nthey had found wings to take them away.\n\nThere remained on the field only a thousand Ethiopians, the forces\nof Marganice. They were drawn up at a distance, and seemed undecided\nwhether to advance. Roland put his horn to his lips, and blew a blast so\npowerful that it echoed and re-echoed for twenty leagues around.\n\n\u201cWhat are you doing?\u201d said Oliver. \u201cHave you lost all shame, and do you\nno longer fear to sound for help against Pagans?\u201d\n\n\u201cThese are cruel words, comrade!\u201d\n\n\u201cWhy disturb Charlemagne for such a trifle? We are three yet. If you\nhad been less brave we should not have bequeathed this defeat to\nour country. If you sound the bugle on my behalf, do not trouble\nyourself--henceforth I do not desire to live. If for Turpin, our friend\nonly survives by a miracle, and will be dead before any one can come to\nhis aid. If you sound, it is for yourself; and, by Heaven\u2019s truth! you\nwill be a brave man to face Charlemagne.\u201d\n\n\u201cTruly,\u201d said Turpin, \u201cyou might do better than quarrel now. Wind your\nhorn, Roland, not for our sakes, but for the honour of France. We shall\nbe avenged, and our bones will be laid in consecrated soil. Wind your\nhorn, Roland!\u201d\n\nThe Count of Mans lifted his bugle to his lips, and blew so loud and\nlong, that the veins in his temples stood up like ropes, and the blood\nflowed from his mouth.\n\nThe Emperor reined up his steed.\n\n\u201cDid you hear, as I did, the bugle of Roland?\u201d\n\nThe Count of Mayence trembled, but he answered, \u201c\u2018Tis some goatherd\ncalling together his flock.\u201d\n\n\u201cDo you think I\u2019ve grown childish, that I should mistake a horn for a\npipe? It was Roland\u2019s horn, past a doubt.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, sire, he sounds his bugle for nothing often; perchance he is\nchasing some wild animal.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy your leave, sire, the horn has a mournful sound,\u201d said Naymes\nof Bavaria, \u201cand it is but due to your peers to go and see what has\nbefallen them.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are right, friend. Ganelon, you will remain here;\u201d and Charles\ncalled for Besgue, his head cook, and entrusted to him the custody of\nthe Count of Mayence.\n\n\u201cIt is the duty of your scullions to guard this criminal. Have you any\nstout rope to put him to the question with?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have, sire, the rope, saving your presence, with which I tie up the\npigs when I stick them.\u201d\n\n\u201cThat will do well! And now, my comrades, let us hasten to Roland.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no need to hurry,\u201d said Ganelon, with a grin; \u201cRoland does not\nring the bell until mass is over.\u201d\n\n\u201cEven so, renegade,\u201d said the Emperor, \u201cwe may arrive in time for\nvespers, and so much the worse for the Pagans.\u201d\n\nRoland was the only one left alive on the plains of Roncesvalles. To\nthe shouts and yells of conflict had succeeded a silence infinitely more\nterrible.\n\nDismayed at their success, the Saracens had fled. The work was\naccomplished; the vultures would fitly succeed them. Insatiable\nparasites of the King of Saragossa, these new comers seldom had time to\nwipe their beaks between the banquets.\n\nRoland dismounted for the first time in the four-and-twenty hours.\nThe brave knight could scarcely stand. Leaning his brow on his horse\u2019s\nsaddle, he cried like a child--he had poured out all his blood, and he\nhad nothing left to shed but tears!\n\n[Illustration: 267]\n\nHis wounds seemed nothing to him. It was despair that was killing him.\nIn his grief he knelt beside the body of Oliver, and clasped it in his\narms. He laid it on the turf, unlaced the helmet, kissed the cold brow,\nstripped off the armour, and examined it all over, unable to believe\nthat he had really lost such a friend and companion in arms.\n\nHe did the same for Turpin, Miton, and Gautier de Luz. But of what avail\nwas it to lavish cares upon the lifeless clay? Their spirits were in\nheaven.\n\nRoland raised his head. He fancied he heard a faint but sweet voice\npronounce his name. What happiness if there yet survived some one!\n\n\u201cDo you not know me, my dear lord? Come hither and bid me farewell!\u201d\n\nPale, stretched on the field among the slain, lay the godchild of\nCharlemagne.\n\n\u201cHeaven be praised, my pretty one! To see you still alive makes me\nalmost fancy Heaven smiles upon me. You will not die--I would not be the\ncause of your death! Charles will be here soon, and will bear you back\nto our own beloved France.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou deceive yourself, Roland. I shall never again behold the great\nEmperor--never again my native land! Before long I shall meet my father\nonce more. But tell me, have the Saracens retreated?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey have retreated into Spain.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen the victory belongs to us two! By the shrine of St. Landri! I am\nhappier than I ever dreamed of being.\u201d\n\nRoland knelt down, took off one of his great gold spurs, and fixed it on\nMitaine\u2019s heel.\n\n\u201cThere, brave little hero, none ever better merited the rank of knight!\u201d\n and he buckled it on. The two little feet of the squire would have both\nfitted easily into the single spur.\n\nIn an ecstacy of joy, Mitaine raised herself, and flung her arms round\nRoland\u2019s neck.\n\n\u201cQuick, quick, my beloved lord! give me the accolade, for I feel I am\ndying!\u201d\n\nAnd Mitaine sank back on the turf, plucked with a last effort two blades\nof grass, which she fashioned into a cross, and expired while kissing it\nwith fervour.\n\n[Illustration: 269]\n\nRoland felt very solitary now. Feeling the shades of death gathering\nround him, he stole up to Veillantif.\n\n\u201cMy brave charger, your mouth is not meant for the bit of the Saracen,\nnor your sides for the Pagan spur.\u201d\n\nAnd Roland, having kissed its soft muzzle, killed his favourite steed\nwith one blow of Durandal.\n\n\u201cNow, my treasured Durandal, what shall I do with thee? Thy hilt\nencloses one of the teeth of St. Peter, and a hair from the beard of St.\nDenis. Neither must thou fall into the hands of unbelievers!\u201d\n\nHe called up all his strength, and struck his sword upon the granite. It\nclave the rock, without denting its blade. Three times he essayed again,\nbut with no better success.\n\nHis sight was failing him. A cold chill seized him. He sank down beside\na granite peak, stretched upon his invincible sword, that people might\nknow well that he died a conqueror.\n\nRoland had just ceased to breathe when Charlemagne arrived on the field.\n\nYou will imagine, my young friends, that the Emperor made the Saracens\npay dearly for the loss of his knights. It was not until he had utterly\ndestroyed the infidel army that Charles would consent to dismount from\nhis horse on the plains of Roncesvalles. Alas! the butchery of Saracens\ncould not restore life to Roland or his companions.\n\nPoor Charlemagne! he tore his grey hair and long beard, and having\nordered the bodies of the Count of Mans, Turpin, Oliver, Miton, and\nMitaine to be placed in coffins of black marble, he had them borne back\nto France with every mark of honour.\n\nAs he approached Aix-la-Chapelle the Emperor saw a long, long line of\nweeping women, all attired in black, coming out to meet him. It was the\nfair Aude, supported by her widowed sister Mita, and followed by a suite\nof three hundred ladies.\n\nCharlemagne, deeply affected by the sight of such affliction,\ndismounted, and pressed the fair Aude to his heart.\n\n\u201cMy poor child!\u201d said he, \u201cyou are a widow or ever you were a bride.\u201d\n\nThe fair Aude opened her lips to reply, but she had not the strength to\nspeak.\n\nThe Emperor felt her sink back in his arms, and, turning to the\nattendants, he asked--\n\n\u201cIs there a place for her in the coffin by the side of Roland?\u201d\n\n[Illustration: 273]\n\nA few days later were celebrated with great pomp the obsequies of the\nbetrothed of the Count of Mans. At the same hour, draged on a hurdle,\nbetween two of the executioner\u2019s assistants, the disfigured corpse of\nthe traitor Ganelon was carried to the charnel.\n\n\u201cAnd Croquemitaine, won\u2019t you tell us something about it?\u201d you would ask\nme.\n\nCroquemitaine does not exist, my dears.\n\n[Illustration: 275]\n\nTHE END.","title":"The Days of Chivalry; Or, The Legend of Croquemitaine","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":64698}