LARGE tears coursed down the cheeks of Charlemagne, as he gazed sadly on his nobles and knights, and asked himself if Heaven would permit such heroes to fall ingloriously by the hand of a miscreant. [Illustration: 068] Oliver crossed himself, and rode at the giant. All trembled; Oliver alone trembled not. It is hardly necessary to say that the usual conditions of this class of duel were, perforce, somewhat modified on this occasion, for they forbade any blows except at the body, and permitted only cuts, not thrusts. As Angoulaffre was six times the height of Oliver, it was impossible they could be strictly adhered to. The two combatants rushed at each other, and quickly disappeared in a cloud of dust. Then came the clash of steel, which sent a chill to all hearts. Was Could that be the noise of his fall? No! the dust cleared away, and Oliver was seen firmly seated in his saddle at the end of the lists, prepared for another course. His lance had broken the buckle of Angoulaffre’s sword-belt. The huge weapon, in falling, had made a great dent in the soil. Frantic cries of “Hurrah for the brave knight!” rent the air. “Charge!” Again they dashed forward, and disappeared in the storm of dust. This time, too, Oliver escaped unharmed; but the giant, confused by the limited area of the lists, and miscalculating his distance, came down full tilt upon the public gallery, his terrible lance made a deadly passage through the crowd, and smashed the timber-work, which fell in upon the sitters. In the crash Angoulaffre’s horse lost its breast-piece. Ganelon had never been so delighted. He hated Oliver, whose friendship for Roland was proverbial. “This evening,” said he to himself, “these boasters will sleep between four planks.” [Illustration: 069] Wolf was as pleased and malicious as Ganelon. The Duke of Aquitaine, you must know, had been struck with Aude’s beauty, and had demanded her hand; but Gerard de Vienne had rejected the offer with scorn, and Oliver had said, with a laugh, “Go and ask Roland for it.” Wolf and Ganelon were made to understand each other: they did not fail to joke together in a whisper while Oliver was doing battle. Now Charlemagne was never particularly pleased to see people jesting on such occasions, and he was not slow to perceive their smothered laughter, and grew very angry at it. This sarcastic sniggering enraged him. The words of Angoulaffre still grated in his ears, and he fancied that he was the subject of pleasantry for his vassals. Turning round, delighted at a chance of relieving his anger, he said to Ganelon and Wolf-- “The wolf and the crow, Heaven help us! dare to laugh at the eagle! Has he sunk so low that he must submit to this?” “Nay, His Majesty must not misunderstand us thus,” said Wolf. “Our recent submission to his commands should place our loyalty beyond suspicion of that sort.”