teps. There Roland fell in a swoon upon the
grass. There a certain Saracen spied him. The fellow had feigned death,
and had laid himself down among the slain, having covered his body and
his face with blood. When he saw Roland, he raised himself from where he
was lying among the slain and ran to the place, and, being full of pride
and fury, seized the Count in his arms, crying aloud, "He is conquered,
he is conquered, he is conquered, the famous nephew of King Charles!
See, here is his sword; 'tis a noble spoil that I shall carry back with
me to Arabia." Thereupon he took the sword in one hand, with the other
he laid hold of Roland's beard.

But as the man laid hold, Roland came to himself, and knew that some one
was taking his sword from him. He opened his eyes but not a word did he
speak save this only, "Fellow, you are none of ours," and he smote him a
mighty blow upon his helmet. The steel he brake through and the head
beneath, and laid the man dead at his feet. "Coward," he said, "what
made you so bold that you dared lay hands on Roland? Whosoever knows him
will think you a fool for your deed."

And now Roland knew that death was near at hand. He raised himself and
gathered all his strength together--ah me! how pale his face was!--and
took in his hand his good sword Durendal. Before him was a great rock
and on this in his rage and pain he smote ten mighty blows. Loud rang
the steel upon the stone; but it neither brake nor splintered. "Help
me," he cried, "O Mary, our Lady! O my good sword, my Durendal, what an
evil lot is mine! In the day when I must part with you, my power over
you is lost. Many a battle I have won with your help; and many a kingdom
have I conquered, that my lord Charles possesses this day. Never has any
one possessed you that would fly before another. So long as I live, you
shall not be taken from me, so long have you been in the hands of a
loyal knight."

Then he smote a second time with the sword, this time upon the marble
steps. Loud rang the steel, but neither brake nor splintered. Then
Roland began to bemoan himself. "O my good Durendal," he said, "how
bright and clear thou art, shining as shines the sun! Well I mind me of
the day when a voice that seemed to come from heaven bade King Charles
give thee to a valiant captain; and forthwith the good King girded it on
my side. Many a land have I conquered with thee for him, and now how
great is my grief! Can I die and leave thee to be handled