Charlemagne, who had not forgotten the attacks of which Mitaine had more than once been the object, gave her a command of twenty men, under pretence of rewarding her for her good services. It was, in reality, a body-guard which he established about her. From this moment, then, please to picture to yourselves our fair young friend marching proudly at the head of her twenty veterans. The precaution was a wise one. It happened, however, that Mitaine one day wandered forth beyond the bounds of the camp. Night overtook her in a forest, which, however lovely by daylight, was not at all an inspiriting spot at night. She dismounted in the midst of a glade, where she resolved to await the return of day rather than venture further. It was so dark that the Old Gentleman himself--sharp-sighted as he is--could not have seen his tail before him or behind him. Mitaine stretched herself on the sward, sleeping with one eye and waking with the other. Before lone the moon showed herself above the horizon, but her light could scarcely penetrate the thick foliage, and only lighted imperfectly some portions of the thicket. Mitaine heard approaching footsteps, and was instantly on the alert. “What a fool I am!” she said to herself, after listening for a few seconds; “it is my horse trampling on the broken branches.” Again she heard it: it was impossible for her to close her eyes. All was now silent, but the silence alarmed her more than the noise. Three times she called her steed--“Vaillant, Vaillant, Vaillant!” A distant neigh was the only response. She rose and went on tiptoe to inspect the spot where she had tied up her horse, but her horse was gone. Then she fancied she could make out under one of the trees a human form--a little further off another,--a third--in short, she counted eight. She saw them move, and come towards her in a circle, which narrowed every moment. She drew her sword, and rushed on them; but soon found herself seized by powerful hands, which grasped her like a vice. Nevertheless she did not lose heart, but began to fight and struggle, to bite and hit out to such effect that, if the night had been less dark, one might have seen a writhing mass of human forms struggling fearfully. Every time when they thought they held her prisoner she contrived to break loose. It was no easy work for the attackers or the attacked, for none of them could see a bit. One would have declared it was blind men quarrelling over their booty. “Why don’t you use your weapons?” said a sinister voice. The speaker was merely a spectator of the combat. “It is easier to say use your weapons than to do it,” answered one of the ruffians. “One can’t see a bit, and the young demon goes on so that we don’t know how to get hold of her.”