beasts devour them and croaking wretches with foul beaks tear our flesh and leave our bones dishonoured."
"That is well said," quoth Roland and Oliver.
Then did Roland blow three mighty blasts upon his horn, and so great was the third that a blood-vessel burst, and the red drops trickled from his mouth.
For days on end Charlemagne had been alarmed at the delay of his rearguard, but ever the false Ganelon had reassured him.
"Why shouldst thou fear, sire?" he asked. "Roland has surely gone after some wild boar or deer, so fond is he of the chase."
But when Roland blew the blast that broke his mighty heart, Charlemagne heard it clearly, and no longer had any doubt of the meaning of its call. He knew that his dreams had come true, and at once he set his face towards the dire pass of Roncesvalles that he might, even at the eleventh hour, save Roland and his men.
Long ere Charlemagne could reach the children of his soul who stood in such dire need, the uncle of Marsile had reached the place of battle with a force of fifty thousand men. Pierced from behind by a cowardly lance, Oliver was sobbing out his life's blood. Yet ever he cried, "Montjoie! Montjoie!" and each time his voice formed the words, a thrust from his sword, or from the lances of his men, drove a soul down to Hades. And when he was breathing his last, and lay on the earth, humbly confessing his sins and begging God to grant him rest in Paradise, he asked God's blessing upon
