Roland had bent beneath the stroke. His back had touched the crupper of Veillantif, but the brave knight did not lose his seat. The spear had glanced off his excellent armour from girdle to shoulder, and he escaped unhurt, though the blood flowed from his mouth. “I should be loth to kill so brave a knight,” said the Governor of Jerusalem. “I offer you your life; take it at my hands.” “I can accept nothing from you but blows,” said Roland, quietly; “because I feel certain I can give you as good as I take, and perhaps even throw in a little over.” “As you please,” said Angoulaffre; and once more they resumed the fight. The giant flung aside his lance, and took a battle-axe, the sight of which gave the spectators a fit of cold shivers. Roland also laid aside his spear, and drew Durandal from its sheath. Veillantif seemed endowed with human intelligence. The brave creature divined the slightest wish of its master. Now it bounded, now it scoured the plain; anon it charged or it reared, and ever it went unhurt through the shower of blows. The horse of the Saracen was not worth half of Roland’s. Its size and weight rendered it difficult to manage. For some minutes it coughed incessantly, and scarcely obeyed bit or spur. Roland, by a clever turn, took the giant in flank, and with one blow of his tremendous sword clove in two the horse of his opponent. Angoulaffre came to earth, seated between the two severed halves of his steed, and bellowing with astonishment and anger. [Illustration: 077] The Saracens had left off laughing now. Their music was silenced. Garlan the Bearded, who commanded them, foamed with rage; he tore out a good tenth of his beard by the roots. The Alcalde of Valentia foresaw the fate of Angoulaffre, and was asking himself whether he and his men should ever see Spain again. Roland was loudly cheered; but, without taking any heed of it, he dismounted, and, approaching the colossus, who had not yet regained his feet, he said--- “Keep your seat, governor, and while you rest yourself, send some of your warriors to me; there will then be no time lost.” “May I be struck by a thousand thunderbolts, if I give you a moment’s respite! Mount, and defend yourself!” “I am not in the habit of taking any advantage in a combat. Since you are dismounted, I will continue the contest on foot.” During this conversation ten horses had drawn from the lists the remains of Angoulaffre’s steed. [Illustration: 078] Then began a combat yet more terrible than any of its predecessors. The marvel was how Roland escaped the rain of blows aimed at him; but the bold knight managed so admirably, that he got close to the monster, and cut off his right leg at the knee. You will guess, my friends, how sad a figure the Governor of Jerusalem cut with such a very ill-assorted pair of legs. He fell, biting the ground with rage, and rolling to and fro in his attempt to rise, until he wept at his own impotence. Roland approached him.