ng
Marsil stayed upon the hillside. "Marsil, oh our King! ride, ride, we
have need of thee!" they cried.

Even to the King's feet the Franks pursued the fleeing foe, slaying
them before his face.

Then Marsil, mounting upon his horse, led his last knights against the
fearful foe.

The Franks were nigh exhausted, but still three hundred swords
flashed in the sunlight, three hundred hearts still beat with hope and
courage.

As Roland watched Oliver ever in the thickest of the fight, dealing
blow upon blow unceasingly, his heart swelled anew with love for him.
"Oh, my comrade leal and true," he cried, "alas! this day shall end
our love. Alas! this day we shall part on earth for ever."

Oliver heard him and through the press of fighting he urged his horse
to Roland's side. "Friend," he said, "keep near to me. So it please
God we shall at least die together."

On went the fight, fiercer and fiercer yet, till but sixty weary
Franks were left. Then, sadly gazing upon the stricken field, Roland
turned to Oliver. "Behold! our bravest lie dead," he cried. "Well may
France weep, for she is shorn of all her most valiant knights. Oh my
Emperor, my friend, alas, why wert thou not here? Oliver, my brother,
how shall we speed him now our mournful news?"

"I know not," said Oliver sadly, "rather come death now than any
craven deed."

"I will sound upon my horn," said Roland, all his pride broken and
gone. "I will sound upon my horn. Charlemagne will hear it and the
Franks will return to our aid."

"Shame would that be," cried Oliver. "Our kin would blush for us and
be dishonored all their days. When I prayed of thee thou wouldst not
sound thy horn, and now it is not I who will consent to it. Sound
upon thy horn! No! there is no courage, no wisdom in that now. Had the
Emperor been here we had been saved. But now it is too late, for all
is lost. Nay," he cried in rising wrath, "if ever I see again my fair
sister Aude, I swear to thee thou shalt never hold her in thine
arms. Never shall she be bride of thine." For Roland loved Oliver's
beautiful sister Aude and was loved by her, and when Roland would
return to France she had promised to be his bride.

"Ah, Oliver, why dost thou speak to me with so much anger and hate,"
cried Roland sadly.

"Because it is thy fault that so many Franks lie dead this day,"
answered Oliver. "It is thy folly that hath slain them. Hadst thou
done as I prayed thee our master Charlemagne had been h