Maugis courteously accepted, and they assumed their seats at the board while the courtiers gathered around to witness the game. Maugis, however, had only accepted through politeness, because the affair of the day had sadly depressed him. After the game had progressed for a time, Maugis had made some wretched mismoves that attracted the attention of those about. Ganelon, who stood behind the prince, leaned forward and whispered in his ear: “In good faith, my prince, thy guest doth seem to ill requite thy courtesy, for while his hand is on the board his mind seems to be elsewhere, and for him evidently thou dost not exist.” A frown covered the brow of the prince, but he made no reply. At this very moment Maugis made a woefully unpardonable and foolish move, and a subdued titter ran around among the courtiers who stood about. That was too much for the prince. “How now, sir!” he exclaimed hotly, “thou art either an idiot or thou doth seek to insult me.” “I crave thy pardon,” replied Maugis, “I made the move while my thoughts did wander and I assure thee I intended thee no discourtesy.” “Seest thou not his mood?” hissed Ganelon in the ear of Berthelot. “He is angered by the reproach of the emperor. Gads! he is in a temper to insult the saints.” This had its effect. “Sir Maugis!” cried Berthelot in anger, “thou tellest me in one breath thou intendest no discourtesy and in the next breath thou dost insult me by saying thy thoughts wandered, to suffer which is enough an insult.” “I pray thee pause in thy condemnation, my prince, and accept my assurances,” said Maugis with great patience. “Accept thy assurances forsooth!” exclaimed the now thoroughly angry prince. “Get thee back to thy northern provinces and teach thyself good manners before thou comest to court again.” At this direct insult, Maugis, who had been able to contain himself the entire day with some success, arose from the table, sweeping the chessmen to the floor. The now infuriated Berthelot then reached out and gave Maugis a resounding slap in the face. This was enough. Maugis seized the heavy chessboard, which was of gold, and hurled it at the head of the prince with such force that the nephew of Charlemagne sank expiring to the floor. In an instant, repenting of what he had done, Maugis sprang forward and tenderly supported the dying man, who said: “Thou hast done for me, Maugis. I was the one on whom blame should rest—let it be known,” and with these words he fell back dead. These events were followed by the entry of Charlemagne, who, hearing the loud voices and the noise, had hastened to learn the cause. He understood instantly. “What, ho! the guard!” he thundered, and then gave orders to prevent the escape of the four sons of Aymon that he might wreak the most bitter vengeance upon them.