Maugis then sent his herald to the twelve deserting peers, bidding him to tell them that in consideration of their grand action he had pardoned Richard de Normandie. In reply to this message the peers gave Maugis to understand that they should refuse reconciliation with the emperor until he had granted him peace. The twelve peers then made preparations for their departure homeward, but before leaving ranged themselves under the walls of Dordogne, and exchanged signals of adieu with its brave defenders. The Emperor Charlemagne, though a man of violent passions, obstinate and eccentric, was withal a wise man. The view of these preparations for departure of these noblemen, who had been his best friends, caused him to seriously reflect. He was seized with grave doubts as to the wisdom of his course, and he called Pinabel and told him of his fears. Here it was the cowardly adviser failed to grasp the situation, which called for the utmost diplomacy. Assuming upon his position now as the sole adviser of the emperor, he uttered these bold words: “Sire! I comprehend neither your fears nor your regrets,” said he. “Can you not do for yourself as well as you could before the departure of these rebellious knights? Have you not enough soldiers to reduce whom you would, and then you may battle with your own subjects, who owe you obeisance? Therefore force these contumacious peers to remain. You have been made their commander and they must obey you.” Charlemagne revolted at such advice against noblemen whom he loved, especially coming from the mouth of a man who compared with them neither in character nor ability, and one whom he distrusted more and more. His eyes commenced their well-known ominous sparkling; like a flash it all came to him, that this man, to whose insidious advice he had listened so long, was guided by an ignoble ambition, that he had not scrupled to compromise the dignity of his sovereign. Like a flash it came to Charlemagne how he had been misled by the deceitful Abbé Gorieux, who, however, by this time, had craftily absented himself, no one knew whither, to escape what he saw was the inevitable end of the conspirators. Like a flash it came to the now thoroughly aroused Charlemagne how he had been misled by deceits and flatteries and appeals to his self-pride to do injustice and compromise his dignity. “Enough!” he thundered to the shrinking Pinabel. “Thou hast abused my confidence; thou hast thought by appealing cunningly to my vanity to prevent me from exercising my first and best thoughts; thou hast worked on my pride to a point where I would lose my army rather than see justice. It shall be so no longer. What, ho there! a guard,” he shouted, and when the officers appeared, he ordered: