“By the crescent! I never remember anything like it. The dog has the mien of a demigod! I am anxious to see him more closely. Etiquette and propriety will not permit me to go to him. Namous, saddle Borak, and seek Roland. Tell him I shall have much pleasure in seeing him, and don’t fail to bring him.” The Prophet’s horse was turned out to graze in the Milky Way. Namous called him. “Come here, Borak. You have browsed enough here; you feed too freely, and will injure yourself. A peck of stars ought to suffice you for one feed. We have got to descend to earth, and you can hardly stir. If the Blessed Prophet knew it----” With that the angel sprang into his saddle, and began to ply his spurs. In a quarter of an hour they had left the planets behind them. When Namous alighted, Saragossa was taken and sacked; and Roland was wondering how on earth to spend the evening. The angel approached him respectfully and said, “I am Namous, the envoy and familiar minister of the Prophet. The Lord of the Iva’abah has noted you chief among the Christians, and he desires a visit from you. Be pleased, therefore, to follow me at once.” “Your master does me a great honour, and one of which many of my brothers in arms are more deserving than I. You must convey to him my excuses, and tell him that I lead a very quiet life; that I have my religious duties to attend to; that, in short, I don’t go much into society.” “The Prophet will very justly feel surprised and hurt at such an answer. He will demand of me the real reason of your refusal. Are you afraid you may be led astray by the beauties of his paradise?” “If you had known Aude, my beloved Aude, that foolish notion would never have crossed your mind.” “Are you afraid of a trip through the air?” “If I thought I might tumble I would set out at once. Fear is a complete stranger to me; but I have heard of it so often that I should be anxious to make its acquaintance.” “You are fatigued with your day’s work, perhaps?” “Offer me an opponent worthy of my sword, and you shall see if it is possible to weary Roland.” The angel bowed, and prepared to spring into his saddle again. The attention of the Count of Mans was attracted by Borak, who fretted, pranced, champed his bit, and pawed the ground, impatient to return to his celestial stable. “What a fine animal!” said Roland, admiringly. In truth, one rarely sees one so handsome. Borak was a fine-limbed, high-standing horse, strong in frame, and with a coat as glossy as marble which is constantly laved by a fountain. His colour was saffron, with one hair of gold for every three of tawny; his ears were restless, pointed like a reed; his eyes large, and full of fire; his nostrils wide and steaming, with a white star on his forehead, a neck gracefully arched, and decked with a mane soft and silky enough to make a young girl envious. He had a long, thick tail, that swept the ground. “It is the Prophet’s favourite mount. He has sent it in your especial honour.”