CHARLEMAGNE was playing at chess with Naymes, Duke of Bavaria, for a couple of hours, when he was informed that Allegrignac had returned. The Emperor, who had lost five games out of seven, was in anything but an agreeable mood. The news of the count’s arrival completely cured him.

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“At last we shall learn the truth about the Fortress of Fear. I feel sure Allegrignac will have acted vigorously and wisely. Fetch him a stoup of wine while I go to assemble my peers, barons, bishops, and clerks. I will hear what he has to say before them.”

When these orders had been carried out, Charlemagne caused the Count of SalenÇon to be summoned into his presence.

“Approach, Allegrignac. You have proved yourself, I doubt not, possessed of endurance and bravery. I shall be glad to have to award the prize to you. Tell us what happened to you.”

“I am, sire, overcome at the thought of my great good fortune, and seek in vain for any past good deed of mine which has won for me the favour which Heaven lavishes on me. I will take care not to abuse your kindness, or the patience of so many learned and gallant listeners. I will begin my story from the moment when I left Alagon for the Fortress of Fear. Dawn was breaking when I started. The darkness which was still spread over the earth was beginning to vanish at the approach of the sun, whose welcome was being chanted by the lark. I was asking myself how so lovely a country could bring one to so dire a fortress, when my horse gave a start, stopped, and, lowering its head, began to snort loudly. I then saw, a short distance from me, a little dwarf, not ill-looking, who sat weeping by the road-side. ‘While there is yet time,’ said he, ‘abandon this insane adventure, and do not disturb the great master of Fear. Seeing you so young and so lovely, I cannot restrain my tears. Did you but know what obstacles you will find opposing you, you would certainly not encounter them.’ ‘I am the envoy of Charlemagne,’ said I, quietly.

“‘Ask yourself, then, if I am a man likely to draw back.’ I had hardly mentioned your name, sire, when I beheld the dwarf flying in alarm. I went on. A little farther on my horse made a second start, and I found myself face to face with a giant, who was in command of a body of twelve armed men. He had a foot placed on either side of the road, like the old Colossus of Rhodes, and his men were drawn up, lance in rest, between his legs, seeking to bar my passage.”

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“‘Whose servant are you, miscreant?’ cried I. ‘Mahomet has my faith—the Lord of Fear my allegiance.’ ‘And I will have your life. Hurrah for Charlemagne!’ I flung my lance at the monster with such force and skill that it pierced his body, and lodged in the ground, point downward, fifty paces off. I drew my sword, and rode at his twelve followers, whom I routed. Although charging at full gallop, I had the forethought to recover my lance on the way. By the time these enemies recovered themselves I was already in the midst of other perils. What more need I say? In vain did the elements assist the efforts of men and demons; strong in my loyalty to my king, I overcame all obstacles!”

Charlemagne liked people to talk modestly, and the praises which Allegrignac did not cease to lavish on himself made him frown. “Action is for men, and words for women,” said he to himself. “This young man talks a little too much.”

“Human strength has its limits,” continued Allegrignac; “even mine is exhaustible, and, taking advantage of an interval of quiet, I dismounted to take a rest. I was a short way from the top of a high mountain, on which the Fortress of Fear is built. I had a long time left the temperate zone, and was surrounded by snow. All of a sudden——”

“I’ll wager his next words are a falsehood!” whispered Roland to Turpin.

“Nonsense! You’re betting on a certainty,” said the bishop.

“All of a sudden my horse gave a terrified neigh. I turned round as I sprang to my feet, and beheld an avalanche leaping from rock to rock, and coming to swallow us up. I did not waste a moment. I waited it with feet firmly planted, and arms outstretched. I caught it and held it back for some seconds. ‘Quick, Serenade!’ I cried to my horse. ‘Go along, make haste, poor beast!’ The animal understood my meaning, and escaped. It was time, for my strength was just exhausted. I made one final and supreme effort, flung the Titanic projectile on one side, and sank—I confess it—exhausted on the ground. The brave men who hear me will not ridicule my weakness.”

Every one looked at his neighbour. They were more surprised at the impudence of the speaker than the strangeness of his story.

“Enough of this sort of prattle,” said Charlemagne. “Here be plenty of great deeds—I’ll ask for the rest of the story another time. Meanwhile, tell me—and as briefly as possible—have you seen the castle and its owner?”

“I have seen them, and I bring you, sire, the head of the monster as an evidence of my victory.”

Allegrignac stooped down to take the bag, which he had placed beside him at the beginning of his story, when Mitaine entered and announced that the Baron of Mont-Rognon desired an audience.

“By my beard! I am curious to see and hear him. Allegrignac, withdraw, and let the Knight of Bourglastic speak. Bid the baron enter.”

Mont-Rognon stepped in proudly; he paused at a few paces from Charlemagne, bowed, placed beside him the bag about which we know, and waited to be interrogated.

“I have often reproached myself for having sent you on so formidable an adventure, my brave baron; only the remembrance of your past feats of valour could make my mind easy about you. However, you have returned.”

“I know not how to express to my Sovereign all my gratitude for the honour he does me. I always believed that the joy of victory is the greatest in the world, and the beating of my heart assures me that I was not mistaken.”

“The joy of victory, do you say? Of what victory do you speak?”

“Of that which I have just won over the Knight of Fear.”

A murmur of surprise was heard on all sides.

“Come forward, Allegrignac,” said the Emperor, in a severe voice. “What does this mean, and which of you is the impostor?”

The consciences of the two pretended victors were not so clear that they could listen without alarm to the infuriated voice of Charlemagne. They felt that impudence alone could assist them; and Allegrignac coming forward, pointed to the Knight of Bourglastic, and said—

“If, sire, this man pretends that he has vanquished the Knight of Fear, I declare that he lies.”

“Lies!” cried Mont-Rognon, blinded with rage. “Who dares utter the word?”

“I, Allegrignac, Count of SalenÇon.”

“Traitor and perjurer! you shall not quit this place alive. A disgraceful death shall be your fate, and the fate of all belonging to you.” And he drew his sword. “Yes, you have lied, baron of the realm though you be, and I will teach you to change your note, perjured coward! I shall slay you and yours before the humblest lacquey in my service is the worse by a hair, for all your bravery.”

“These two cocks,” said Oliver, “seem to me to crow too long before they begin fighting. It would be mockery to separate them.”

Charlemagne raised his voice, and silence was at once restored.

“I find you daring enough,” said he, “to deafen me with your clamour. This insolence is insufferable. The first who speaks without being questioned shall be punished; understand that, one and all!” and then he added, after a moment, “What proof have you of the victory you say you have won? Speak, Allegrignac.”

“I have the head of the monster in this bag.”

“And you, Mont-Rognon, what have you to say?”

“This man is an impostor. I have here what will prove him so.” The Knight of Bourglastic seized his bag, and opened it; the Count of SalenÇon did the same, and then each held up a gory head for Charlemagne’s inspection.

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At this sight the Emperor turned pale.

He rose, and seemed anxious to speak, but could only utter the one word, “Murderers!”

The whole assembly gave a cry of horror on recognising the heads of Porc-en-Truie and Maragougnia; but the most frightened of all were assuredly Mont-Rognon and Allegrignac, who, letting fall the two accusing heads, flung themselves at the Emperor’s feet.

“Sire, do not hold us guilty. We have been the victims of some treason. Yes, we confess it; we were unable to carry out your instructions. Terrified and at our wits’ end, we lost our heads—”

“Then no one will be surprised this evening to see they are no longer on your shoulders,” interposed the Emperor, who thus set a-going a horrible joke, which has done service so often since that it has well earned a retiring pension.

The next day, after mass, the Lord of Bourglastic and the Count of SalenÇon underwent a final examination. By vespers Charlemagne had sentenced them to death. When the bugles sounded they had been beheaded, and flung out to feed the wolves.

Eight days after Ali PÉpÉ was hanged.

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