A SHORT time previous to the foregoing events, Marsillus had a vision at Saragossa.

Come with me now to Spain, my young friends. Do not murmur, for there exists nothing so lovely as Spain, unless it be “the terrestrial paradise,” of which I am not in a position to form an opinion.

There the sandal-wood, the spikenard, the saffron, the ebony, and the clove, the most extraordinary flowers, the most delicious fruits, all grow wild. The streams prattle more gaily there than anywhere else, joyfully sprinkling with dewy drops the ever-verdant banks. On all sides trees, clothed with luxuriant foliage, provide shelter for the most musical birds in the world. The choir numbers the tomtit, the nightingale, the phoenix, the turtle-dove, and a thousand others. Must I, at the risk of making your mouths water, mention a few of the fruits of this marvellous land? What do you say to the fig, the grape, the pomegranate, the almond, the lemon, the pine-apple, the olive, and the orange? And the flowers!—clumps of roses everywhere, lilies, chrysanthemums! Here, grow ox-eyes; there, spring violets; yonder bloom the narcissus and the balsam. The cool brooklets, abundant and limpid as glass, flow over pebbles as bright as crystal and topaz. There are gardens like those of Persia, minarets like those of Bagdad, a blue sky’ like that of no other part of the world. The nights are so delicious, one is sorry to go to sleep. Everywhere are seen wealth, beauty, joy, and plenty! Such is Spain.

All this, however, was ruined by the presence of the Saracens.

Marsillus was taking a nap. He was lying on cushions of priceless material. The pavilion in which he had sought repose was of stained ivory, inlaid with gold. In the midst a joyous fountain diffused coolness around it; while an incense, compounded of musk, ambergris, and camphor, made into a paste with distilled otto of roses, burning in marble bowls, filled the air with sweetness.

All at once the daylight turned sickly pale. A chill like that of the tomb succeeded the agreeable coolness and the perfumes yielded to sickening odours like those of the grave. The flowers faded; all that was brightest became dull and tarnished; and a corpse came and seated itself beside the King of Saragossa. It scarcely retained the human form, being made up of shreds and rags of flesh, and rendered only the more hideous by the gay robes in which it was enveloped.

“My father!” said the corpse, “have you, then, forgotten me?” Marsillus opened his eyes, uttered a shriek, and, after gazing round vainly for some way of escape, sank back motionless, with haggard eyes and bristling locks, and bathed in a cold sweat.

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“Is it thus you receive your son, after a separation of ten years? Open your arms to me, beloved monarch, for I hunger for your embrace!” On seeing Murad approaching him, the terrified Marsillus sprang to his feet, and strove to get out of his way, but in vain. The corpse caught him in its arms, folded him to its bosom, which cracked in a ghastly way with the force of the hug, and “covered with cold and clammy kisses the face and white locks of the King of Saragossa, on which they left gory stains!

“Leave me—depart!” shrieked the old man. “What have I done to you, or what would you have me do?”

“I would be avenged on Roland of France.”

“I will avenge you, Murad. But now leave me, if you do not wish me to perish on the spot.” And Marsillus, putting forth all his strength, freed himself from the embraces of his son, and rushed to the other end of the chamber.

“In truth, my lord, you are not altered. As I left you nine years ago I find you now. You have just asked me two questions. I will answer them. You have asked what I would have you do? To that I answer, Avenge my death! I would see this accursed Roland and his friends punished in a way that should never be forgotten by the rest of mankind. I am astonished that so affectionate a father and so just a king should have been so long thinking about vengeance. Your other question was, ‘What had you done to me?’ Those words, by the Prophet! should have died away on your lips; but since your conscience does not assist your memory, I will take its place. You do not question, of course, my dear lord, that death reveals everything to us? One has reason to complain of it not so much because it takes us from this world, as because it places the past before us in naked truth—brings in review before us all our errors and our beliefs—and teaches one, for instance, that one has had such a father as you.”

Marsillus dug his nails into the wall, against which he had placed his back, as if he would fain scoop out for himself some place of refuge.

Murad continued:—“While I was a child, happily for me, I did not occupy any place in your life; but from the hour when you saw me return the conqueror of the lioness and her cubs, you began to keep an eye on me. I grew up under your personal superintendence, and if the queen, Hadrama, my mother, had not at times pressed me to her bosom, I believe I should have become a wild beast, and not a man. My name became famous; the prodigies of my valour, my wisdom, and bravery won you many kingdoms. In a short time I had doubled your empire. Your jealousy increased with my fame, until, unable to look undazzled at the glory of my renown, you determined to make away with me. From that moment I had to encounter a thousand plots—a thousand treacheries, over which I triumphed by a miracle, but of which I never once suspected the origin.”

Marsillus would fain have denied this, but his voice stuck in his parched throat.

“Your slaves one day found a huge snake, a venomous monster, which they at once slew. It was a female, and would have left twenty little ones to lament her loss if you had not considerately ordered the destruction of the whole family. The father alone escaped. Once in possession of this little stock of poison, you asked yourself how you could best dispose of it, and being neither selfish nor thoughtless—you see, I do you the fullest justice—you were not long in remembering me. Your creatures took the twenty young snakes and scattered them from their nest to my room, where they concealed the mother’s body under my bed. As soon as night came, the male snake traced from corpse to corpse the path you had so obligingly mapped out for him, and, full of fury, arrived almost at the bed where I was sleeping. I will spare you the recital of what followed, for it would wring your heart. All I have to observe is, that on my making my appearance before you next day, you knitted your brows; you were even put out when I laid at your feet the two serpents, one only of which owed its destruction to me. It was fortunate for you that on the previous night I had struck one of your slaves, for it was at once decided that he had attempted to revenge himself on me, and, in your anxiety to see me righted, you sliced his head off before he had time to utter a word in defence.”

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“I shall only briefly recall to you the horse, which, maddened with some noxious drench, almost leaped with me into a bottomless abyss. Thanks to Allah, I did not lose my self-possession, and gave the animal such a blow behind the ear with my fist that he dropped lifeless, sending me rolling within a few paces ot the gulf which you had intended for my grave. Next day, on rising, I beheld a startling sight. You had, in your stern sense of justice, ordered the impalement of all my faithful grooms, who were devoted to me, and you replaced them by creatures of your own.”

Marsillus hid his face in his hands.

“Finally, after ten years spent in futile efforts to get rid of me, you determined to send me to the French tournament, where I met my death. Now I might certainly desire, and insist, that you should pay dearly for your past vagaries; but I offer you pardon, and only ask one thing in return; but that I must and will have.”

Marsillus raised his head.

“Angoulaffre, Priamus, Corsablix, and all the other victims who shared my fate, speak to you with my lips. We demand the death of Roland and the knights of Charlemagne. Swear to avenge us!”

“I swear!” murmured the old man.

“Give me your hand on it!” And Murad strode towards him. But at that Marsillus shouted so lustily, that his guards rushed in. They found the King stretched on the ground, his robes dishevelled, and his lips uttering disconnected sentences.

“Don’t leave me!—don’t leave!” he cried, dragging himself to the feet of the guard. “I have seen Murad! He calls for vengeance! His kisses have chilled my very marrow. You won’t leave me?—promise me you won’t! If you do, I’ll have you all put to death!”

The most experienced physicians were at once sent for. They agreed that His Highness was suffering from brain fever. But as nobody had the courage to convey this intelligence to His Majesty, no attempt was made to cure him; to which circumstance he owed his recovery.

By degrees the dreadful scene vanished from his mind, and in a month he had almost forgotten it.

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“Go to war at my age!” said the King to himself. “What nonsense! I have the finest kingdom in the world. Charlemagne leaves me alone: why should I provoke him? Not I, i’faith! I must have had a bad dream, and I must mind I don’t get an unpleasant waking-up by going to tweak Charlemagne by the beard. Sleep sweetly, Prince Murad, and let me live in peace!”

From that time Marsillus never passed a day without receiving a visit from his son. He had a guard constantly in his presence, but it was no use.

Then he tried to discover some means of ridding himself of this frightful spectre; and, at length, one night determined to await its approach resolutely, yataghan in hand.

Murad came as usual, and approached his father; but he, with four blows of his sword, sliced off the head, legs, and arms of the corpse. Then he breathed more freely. But the head immediately burst out laughing, while the right arm politely picked up the weapon Marsillus had let fall, and handed it to him.

“Take this yataghan, sire; it is one I wore for a long time—the one, in short, you gave me as a boy. Have you forgotten it?”

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The King, more driven to his wits’ end than ever, tremblingly flung his son’s limbs into a mat, and tied the four corners together. Then he ran at full speed into the garden, accompanied by roars of laughter from the head, which did not cease to move as he bore it. Arrived at the end of the park, he dug six deep holes; put the head in the first, the right arm in the second, the left arm in the third, the right leg; in the fourth, the left leg in the fifth, and the trunk in the sixth. Then he threw the earth in upon them, and ran in again, without daring to look behind him.

Marsillus by this means gained a month’s respite. But, at last, the Sultana one day begged him to accompany her to the bottom of the grounds, where she had discovered some unknown description of flowers, which gave out an odour so sweet, it was almost impossible to tear yourself away from them when once you had gone near them. The King refused with such evident horror, that the surprised Hadrama only persisted the more, and he had to give way. As he approached nearer, his blood froze in his veins; his eyes were blinded with mist; his teeth chattered horribly. Walk slowly as he would, he must at last reach the terrible spot where his son’s remains were concealed.

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On arriving there, the Sultana said, “See how thick the turf is! Did you ever see anything like it?”

To the terrified Marsillus it seemed as if human hair was growing and covering the ground on which he trod.

“Is there anything more delicious than the scent of these flowers?” But Marsillus could only smell the foul odours of a grave.

“See what flocks of birds perch in the branches! Hark! how sweetly they sing!”

But Marsillus seemed but to hear a laugh that came from under the ground. He saw that the leaves of this strange tree were shaped like human tongues, and when the breeze shook them, low’ voices murmured—“Revered sovereign, avenge my death!”

The King of Saragossa fell on his knees and to his prayers. The big tears ran down his white beard. “Sow sin, and you will reap remorse!” he exclaimed, with his eyes fixed on the earth.

The next day he called together his nobles, and announced to them his intention of avenging the death of Murad!

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