his words.
'You have heard,' he said to Charles, 'the words of Ganelon. Wise
counsel, if we only follow it! Marsile knows that he is conquered at
last. You have won his towns, and vanquished him in battle, and he is
reduced to beg for your pity. It would be shameful to ask for anything
further, and the more so as you have hostages as pledges of his good
faith. It is time that the war ended; therefore send him one of your
barons to speak with him face to face.' And the nobles answered, 'The
Duke has spoken well.'

'Noble lords, what envoy shall we send to King Marsile at Saragossa?'
'I will go, if it is your pleasure,' said Duke Naimes. 'Give me your
glove and the wand of office.' 'No,' replied Charles, 'your wisdom is
great, and I cannot spare you from my side. Remain where you are, I
command you.'

'Let me go,' cried Roland. 'No, no,' answered Count Oliver; 'you are
too hasty and too imprudent. You would only fall into some trap. With
the King's good leave I will go instead.'

'Hold your peace,' said Charles, shaking his head; 'you will neither
of you go. None of my twelve peers shall be chosen.'

Then Turpin of Rheims left his seat and spoke to Charles with his loud
and ringing voice. 'Fair King, give your Franks a little peace. For
seven years you have been in Spain, and your barons have all that time
been fighting and suffering. It is now, sire, that the glove and the
wand of office should be given. I will go and visit this Unbeliever,
and will tell him in what scorn I hold him.' But the Emperor, full of
rage, cried out, 'By my beard, you will stop with me. Go to your place
on the white carpet, and give me none of your advice unless I ask for
it.'

'Good Frankish Knights,' said Charles, 'choose me a baron from my own
land, who shall be envoy to King Marsile, and who, at need, can fight
well.'

'Ah,' cried Roland, 'let it be Ganelon, my stepfather; you will not
find a better man.' 'Yes,' said the Franks, 'he is the man; let him go
if the King pleases.'

'Ganelon,' commanded the King, 'come here and I will give you the
glove and the wand of office. It is the voice of the barons that has
chosen you.'

'No,' replied Ganelon, 'it is Roland's doing, and to the end of my
life I will bear him hatred for it. Oliver also will I hate, since
Oliver is his friend. And never more will I love the twelve peers, for
they love him. Under your own eyes, sire, I throw down my challenge.'

'You are angry about nothing,' sa