On receiving this insult the Saracen lost his self-possession, and gave vent to an oath so terrible that all the assemblage crossed themselves. You will not, therefore, be surprised, my friends, that I do not repeat it, although it formed the entire speech of the Governor of Jerusalem. He felt himself in the presence of an enemy worthy of him, and understood that the time for words was gone by. As an habitual drinker likes wine that is rough, warriors delight in foemen who smite hard. This time the giant assumed his lance and his vast shield. The spectators had not a drop of blood left in their veins, and many prayers were breathed to Heaven for the success of the Christian knight. The signal was given. The combatants dashed forward and encountered half way. Angoulaffre had stooped down to await Roland, but he, with superhuman activity, avoided the fearful blow which was aimed at him, and struck his adversary on the face with his lance. The spear lodged between two of his teeth and broke. The greatest courage is often accompanied by little weaknesses. The hero who sports with life on the battle-field will often shrink at the sight of a spider. Angoulaffre, now, had a horror of a dentist--as, my young readers, is the case, I conjecture, with most of you. [Illustration: 075] A decayed grinder had given him considerable pain for the last six weeks. Imagine his rage, then, when he received a tremendous blow from a lance on that particular tooth. He ceased to be a man--to be a giant: he was a wild beast, mad with fury. He lost his presence of mind, which until now had lent him double strength. Flinging aside his arms he flung himself blindly upon his foe. But Roland, whom danger never stirred, evaded him craftily, and harassed him. He seemed to be playing with his formidable adversary. A deft stroke severed the girths of Angoulaffre’s horse; the saddle turned round; the giant lost his balance, and fell to earth amid shouts of laughter from the spectators. Roland approached him, gave him his hand, and assisted him to rise. Then he asked him if he required rest. “I never leave a fight half finished,” said the giant; “but I am thirsty, that is all.” Charlemagne, hearing these words, ordered his pages to roll a hogs-head of Spanish wine into the middle of the lists. Angoulaffre broached it with one blow of his fist, emptied it at one draught, and then, flinging the cask beyond the barriers, remounted his steed. [Illustration: 076] The combatants selected fresh spears, and, having taken their places on the field, rode at each other once more. This time they smote one another full on the breast. What a terrific crash, my young friends! No ironclad of our day could have resisted it. Angoulaffre was driven back on his horse’s crupper; he stuck his knees in so tight, to save himself from a second fall, that the unhappy animal had all the breath knocked out of its body. It was a misery to hear it cough.