The dead were buried; they were sixty-three in number, neither more nor less. There were, after this tournament, a great many thrones to let in the East. The surgeons declared that the wounded would not be fit to move for a month at the very least. Charlemagne loaded the survivors with rich gifts, and then, after four or five days of rejoicing, he prepared to depart, leaving Fronsac strongly garrisoned. He wished to spend Advent Sunday at a town anciently called Durie, in the diocese of Julliers, and the Feast of the Resurrection at the Cathedral of St. Lambert, in Liege. When the Saracens were left alone, they determined, after a long consultation, to inform King Marsillus without delay of the melancholy fate of his envoys, and to bear to him the mortal remains of his son. Nobody, however, cared to be the bearer of such tidings, and one and all professed to suffer horribly from their wounds. In short, of all that brilliant expedition, there were none left to perform this duty except the band. The solemn procession set out for Spain. The drums, covered with mourning, preceded the hearse about twenty paces. Thus it was that Murad Henakyeh Meimoumovassi re-entered his father’s dominions! [Illustration: 096] END OF THE FIRST BOOK, BOOK THE SECOND -- THE PROPHET’S PARADISE. [Illustration: 099] CHAPTER I. HOW CROQUEMITAINE WAS CHRISTENED. IN turning over the last page, my young friends, you have grown nine years older. You see time flies quickly when you read my writings. Do I ask too much in begging you to make a hasty flight with me, in five minutes, from the year 769 to the year 778? Charlemagne, after having, as I said just now, performed his religious duties at Duren and at Liege, returned to Worms at the beginning of the year 770. There Miton and Mita were married, and there, subsequently, the latter gave birth to a lovely little girl, who was called Mitaine--a lovely little angel, plump and soft, with large black eyes, and golden locks as bright as the glory of a saint. Charlemagne saw the infant one day in its mother’s arms, and believed he beheld a vision. “Surely,” said the good Emperor, “this is Our Lady with her holy babe!” When he came nearer, he recognised the Countess of Rennes. “You are too blest, Lady Mita. You are favoured of Heaven indeed. It is not possible but that this little angel should bring good fortune to all who approach her; and, if she has not already been christened, I should like to be one of her sponsors. Would you wish me to be her godfather?” [Illustration: 100] Charlemagne took one of the child s tiny hands, and kissed it, the little arm disappearing entirely in the monarch’s bushy beard and moustache.