Curiosity is the worst of advisers. The sentinels exposed themselves in order to see better, and four arrows struck them in the face. It was the hour of target-practice with the pages of Charlemagne. “I am afraid this is likely to make the infidels squint!” said Mitaine, choosing a new arrow. Roland, heedless of all that was passing around him, continued his work of destruction. The wall began at last to yawn, and the knight to smile, delighted at his success. [Illustration: 141] By-and-by the tremendous hammering excited the curiosity of the besieged, and some of the soldiers, seeing the sentinels leaning over the ramparts and never stirring, were anxious to discover what was so engrossing their attention. They in their turn leant over, and each received an arrow in his ear. “What do you think of those ear-rings?” said Mitaine, laughing. “Were ever such lovely trinkets seen? Saint Eloi, the goldsmith, could not have fashioned finer!” During this time Roland redoubled his force. A rent thirty cubits long began to threaten the wall with ruin. Marsillus, who was passing in the neighbourhood, felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. Every blow of the pommel of Durandal made the whole quarter of the city shake to its foundation. “So, then,” said the King of Saragossa, “these wretches have brought new engines of war against us! Why has no one told me of this? Ebrechin, go see what it is, and hasten back with intelligence of what is passing.” The earth continued to quake, and several houses began to tremble to their fall. “It is not an ordinary balista at work there,” said Marsillus. “None of those in use now can deliver such hard blows.” But hardly had the King finished his sentence when a mosque fell in ruins within a hundred paces of where he stood. Then a still more awful noise froze his blood with terror. The breach was made: Roland had kept his word. [Illustration: 142] [Illustration: 143] CHAPTER IX. A TRIP TO MAHOMET’S PARADISE. WHILE Roland was descending into the fosse of Saragossa, Mahomet was taking his afternoon nap in his Paradise. A houri had rolled a cloud under his head, and he was snoring serenely near the fountain. The first blow of Durandal’s pommel awoke the Prophet. “Come in,” said he, turning round, in no pleasant humour at being disturbed. The second stroke put him out still more; and he rang for the angel Namous, and inquired of him who dared to make such an uproar. “Great Prophet,” said the heavenly messenger, “it’s that Roland at his tricks again. He has undertaken to fling down the walls of Saragossa; and I really can’t help trembling for the fate of your followers!” “I must see to this,” said Mahomet; “I feel certain you are exaggerating as usual, and that my brave Marsillus will not let himself be beaten by a Christian.” The Prophet stepped down into his observatory, and turned his telescope on Saragossa. [Illustration: 144]