“You cannot continue the struggle. Your life is in my power. Accept Christian baptism, and I will spare you.” Angoulaffre, without answering, rolled himself to the place where his axe had fallen, seized it, and cut off his left leg at the knee. Then raising himself on his stumps, he gazed sternly at Roland, and said, simply-- “I am ready!” [Illustration: 080] At the sight of this act of Spartan heroism both Christians and Pagans applauded. Charlemagne himself was touched. “Governor of Jerusalem,” said he, “desist from this useless struggle. What greater proof could you give of your courage? Believe me, when you appear again before your king in this guise, and tell him, ‘It is Roland who has conquered me,’ you will not see him sneer at you.” “You--you Christians, then--can live after the shame of having been vanquished? That, and that only, is beyond our power. Behold, faint hearts! You have seen how we can fight; see now how well we know how to die!” I will not, my dear young friends, relate to you the end of this fearful conflict. It was no longer a battle--it was a butchery. Blows followed one another without pause. Roland was covered with wounds; his armour was hacked away piece by piece, but he did not give ground. He felt his strength failing, and desired at any price to bring the contest to an end. Without regarding the almost certain death to which he exposed himself, he closed with his foe, and dealt him a tremendous blow, which stretched him at his feet. There was one short minute, during which the impressed spectators kept silence. The respect which bravery always commands restrained the burst of the general rejoicing; but, these first few seconds past, every one felt himself relieved of an immense peril. The sight of Roland, to whom Charlemagne had hastened, was the signal for an outburst of frantic cheering from every side. The king embraced his nephew, and said-- “I would reward you for so splendid a victory. What would you have? My gratitude is unbounded: let your desire be without limit. Which of my provinces shall I bestow on you?” “I am yet more ambitious. When I wish to own a province, I will go win it with my sword.” “What would you have, then?” Aude had just left Oliver, who had no longer need of her care. She felt that the triumph of her lover would not be complete if she did not share it. Roland gazed at her so meaningly, that Charles turned to Gerard de Vienne, and said-- “Here is an ambitious gallant, who seeks his reward at your hands. What say you, Gerard, and you, Lady Guibourg? Does it not seem to you that your niece will be fortunate in having for a spouse my friend and nephew, Roland? I ask her hand of you for him.” “Sire,” said Gerard, “it is doing us too great an honour.” “Aude could not have a nobler husband than Roland, who comes of your royal line, sire,” said the Lady Guibourg.