ong, bold, great and boastful Roland, that
God hath suffered so long upon His earth. For one hare Roland would
sound his horn all day long. Doubtless now he laughs among his peers.
And besides, who would dare to attack Roland? Who so bold? Of a truth
there is none. Ride on, Sire, ride on. Why halt? Our fair land is
still very far in front."

So again, yet more unwillingly, the Emperor rode on.

Crimson-stained were the lips of Roland. His cheeks were sunken and
white, yet once again he raised his horn. Faintly now, in sadness and
in anguish, once again he blew. The soft, sweet notes took on a tone
so pitiful, they wrung the very heart of Charlemagne, where, full
thirty leagues afar, he onward rode.

"That horn is very long of breath," he sighed, looking backward
anxiously.

"It is Roland," cried Duke Naimes. "It is Roland who suffers yonder.
On my soul, I swear, there is battle. Some one hath betrayed him. If I
mistake not, it is he who now deceives thee. Arm, Sire, arm! Sound
the trumpets of war. Long enough hast thou hearkened to the plaint of
Roland."

Quickly the Emperor gave command. Quickly the army turned about, and
came marching backward. The evening sunshine fell upon their pennons
of crimson, gold and blue, it gleamed upon helmet and corslet, upon
lance and shield. Fiercely rode the knights. "Oh, if we but reach
Roland before he die," they cried, "oh, what blows we will strike for
him."

Alas! alas! they are late, too late!

The evening darkened, night came, yet on they rode. Through all the
night they rode, and when at length the rising sun gleamed like
flame upon helmet, and hauberk and flowing pennon, they still pressed
onward.

Foremost the Emperor rode, sunk in sad thought, his fingers twisted
in his long white beard which flowed over his cuirass, his eyes filled
with tears. Behind him galloped his knights--strong men though they
were, every one of them with a sob in his throat, a prayer in his
heart, for Roland, Roland the brave and fearless.

One knight only had anger in his heart. That knight was Ganelon. And
he by order of the Emperor had been given over to the keeping of the
kitchen knaves. Calling the chief among them, "Guard me well this
felon," said Charlemagne, "guard him as a traitor, who hath sold all
mine house to death."

Then the chief scullion and a hundred of his fellows surrounded
Ganelon. They plucked him by the hair and buffeted him, each man
giving him four sounding blow