The king, trembling at the thought of being brought face to face once more with the murderer of his son, ordered the knights to return to their master and to have him present himself at once to receive punishment for his crimes, accompanied by his three brothers; that his army must surrender at discretion; that the ambassador might have no illusions as to his formal intention not to submit to any supplications, and that the truth of these words might be forced upon them, he ordered, in their presence, the erection of three gibbets upon which the three brothers were to swing. These grim preparations completed, Charlemagne sent them back, giving them until noon to execute his commands, under penalty of immediately commencing hostilities. The thirty knights returned to their camp and faithfully reported to the Duke d’Aigremont the words of Charlemagne. There was nothing left to do but bravely accept their fate. The order was immediately given for the disarmament of the troops. The Duke d’Aigremont had a difficult task in overcoming the repugnance of Gerard de Bouillon and De Nanteuil to submitting, but they finally consented to accompany him. It was a sad and curious spectacle to see the Duke d’Aigremont and his two brothers on that bright and beautiful May morning, stripped to their shirts, with heads bare, with a cord attached to their necks, march at the head of several hundred knights, stripped to their shirts likewise, and followed by their soldiers with heads bare, all marching on foot along the road which separated their camp from the camp of Charlemagne. Upon their arrival at the tent of the emperor the three brothers with their suite and all their army kneeled to the earth, amid a great hush from the assembled hosts. With constrained voice the emperor bid the three brothers arise, and sternly but silently pointed to them the way to the scaffold. The three brothers without a single supplication obeyed in silence. On arriving at the foot of the gibbet, the emperor, who had followed, could no longer conceal his emotion, and for the moment the heart of the soldier overcame the sorrows of the father. He paused and with bitter tears filling his eyes: “Barbarians!” cried he, “why should you have punished me so cruelly by destroying my beloved son, a young prince who complied loyally with the orders of his sovereign?” D’Aigremont was deeply affected by the grief of the emperor. “Sire!” said he, “I beg to die without delay; I realize the enormity of my crime and that death alone can remove my disgrace.” The executioners then approached to perform their sinister offices. The assembled armies awaited, breathless and concerned, the end of this powerful drama. The emperor seemed to be entirely absorbed in his grief, but suddenly recovering command of himself and with a noble generosity, so characteristic of him, he forgot the death of his son, and, sacrificing his grief and revenge, these words fell from his lips: