Presently was heard the bugle note which announced that the heights were taken, and Roland, followed by some thousands of knights, rode out to meet the Saracens. “What is the meaning of this?” said Marsillus, on beholding the Christians issuing from the pass. “It strikes me these brave warriors are afraid to attempt the pass. But we know how to compel them to do so. Their graves are dug there, and there they must sleep this night--and nowhere else!” Thirty thousand Saracens spurred forward in haste, and grew doubly courageous on beholding the Christians turn to retreat. “What have they been telling us about the courage of these people?” said Arroth, the nephew of Marsillus. “So far, there has been more of the chase than the combat. We need hardly have come in such numbers.” “Your words are wanting in sense,” said Turgis of Toulouse. “Pray Heaven to allow your brains to grow old enough to perceive the folly.” The Saracens entered the defile in pursuit of the Franks, who had surmounted all the obstacles in the pass. Their pursuers, however, halted in wonder before the heap of dead bodies that barred their passage. Roland took advantage of their hesitation and gave the signal, on hearing Avhich Gautier de Luz set to work. Huge blocks of stone crashed down from overhead, involving horses and men; living, dead, and wounded; Saracens, Gascons, and Navarrese, in one common destruction. The pass was completely blocked up. [Illustration: 261] “Truly,” said Roland, “Ganelon contrived this trap very cleverly. But one cannot foresee everything in this world, and in this instance it is the hare that is hunting; the hounds!” The Pagans who returned to the King of Saragossa were barely eight thousand, including the wounded who had escaped destruction. They had flung away their banners and their arms in order to facilitate their flight. “Is this what you promised us?” they cried, threateningly, to Marsillus. “We have just fallen into a snare laid for us by Ganelon. Ah, dastard of a Roland, treacherous Count of Mayence, coward of an Emperor, you shall hear more of us yet! By Mahomet, our vengeance shall be something to speak of, rascals!” A hundred thousand Saracen knights pricked forward at full speed, taking a different road, which permitted them to cut off the retreat of the Franks. In the meantime Gautier de Luz and Mitaine had rejoined Roland. Archbishop Turpin had ridden to a slight eminence. The twenty thousand knights were on their knees around him. “Prepare to perish nobly, my brothers-in-arms,” said he to them. “The heroes who do not shrink from the fight will sleep in Paradise by sunset. All your past sins shall be atoned for by cuts or thrusts of sword or lance. I absolve you all from this moment!” He gave them his blessing, and they rose, comforted and encouraged.