IT is nine o clock. All is quiet in the camp. The fires have been extinguished as a measure of prudence, and only the moon is allowed to gleam.

In the plain, however, a few tumblers displayed their feats by torchlight to a few spectators, but ere long, losing their public, they were fain to pack up their traps and seek repose beneath some forest tree. By degrees every noise died away. Hardly a chirrup was heard to give life to a lovely night; still, now and then, one heard from afar the ringing of steel. It was some watch on its rounds. The armour glittered a moment in the moonbeams and then disappeared, and that was all.

Let us, too, go our rounds, and see what is passing in the camp. We will begin with the Royal tent. If you were not with me, my dear young people, I would defy you to enter it. Never was treasure or sacred relic so carefully guarded. Charles slept in a great bed of state, and a hundred of his bravest and stoutest men were appointed to guard him. Forty knights kept watch, changing guard three times a night, according to the muster-roll—ten at the head, ten at the foot, and ten on either side, each with a drawn sword and a torch.

Aude, too, had retired to her pavilion. She could not sleep, however, for thinking of all that had happened during the day—a day that had been at once hateful and glad: hateful, because it had nearly deprived her of her dear Oliver; joyful, because it had decided her marriage with Roland—her dear Roland. Her waiting-women surrounded her. Ten Moorish maidens sang to her Spanish ballads, which she preferred to all others, but to-night she heard them not—she was lost in meditation. Four Saxon damsels combed her long tresses, waiting for the signal to dress it for the night, a signal she forgot to give. Eight Lombard girls had made ready a perfumed bath, but it had been three times prepared already, for it grew cold while she was musing. Oghris was not more fortunate. He had gently placed his head in her lap, but she had not bestowed on him a single glance. He was a guard that made a mockery of the precaution taken to put sentinels at the tent-door.

Roland slept beside Oliver. The two gallant fellows had fallen asleep hand in hand. The friends were now virtually brothers.

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Meanwhile Ganelon and Wolf had concocted a murderous undertaking.

“Don’t you think Marsillus would give a handsome price for Roland’s body?”

“I believe you,” answered the Duke of Aquitaine; “but it would be better to deliver him up alive, and let the king manage him. It is by craft we must oppose him; as to force, we must not dream of that, for neither you nor I could do anything with him in that line.”

Let us take a Stroll now Roland and Oliver reposing, beyond the camp, and see who they are that wander in the skirts of the forest. A delightful couple are whispering together. Mita, the worthy sister of Aude, whom we remarked at the head of the royal cortÈge, and who was called “the little knight of pearls,” Mita was walking along, leaning on the arm of Miton of Rennes, the friend of Roland. They were followed by a waiting-maid and a page.

“My sister is fortunate in having for her knight such a man as Roland.”’

“Cannot you see how it breaks my heart to hear you speak so? To win your favour must one be the only knight who has no equal in the field?”

“I know my own value, and it seems to me that I deserve to have prodigies of valour done to win me. Listen, Sir Miton. You would wed me: is it not so? You repeat, over and over again, you would achieve miracles for my sake!”

“It is true.”

“Then I shall seek a proof of this to-morrow. At daybreak you will receive my commands. If you carry out well the enterprise I shall plan for you, I will be yours—yours devotedly. If you attempt it, but do not succeed, I shall be your friend as heretofore, but nothing beyond. If you draw back, never speak to me again, for I should speak to you as to a poltroon.”

They had now reached the camp, where they must part.

“Farewell, Miton; may you succeed to-morrow. I go to pray for your success.”

She reached out a hand, which trembled in that of the knight, and which he kissed respectfully. Miton returned to his tent, but did not close his eyes all night. Every time a footstep passed near his tent he rushed to the door, expecting to receive the message from Mila. At early dawn an attendant came with a packet, which she gave to him, and said—

“My mistress sends me to you to communicate her wishes. ‘Go seek Sir Miton,’ she said to me, ‘and bid him rejoice it he be truly desirous of proving to me that he is worthy of my love, for I am going to give him an opportunity of proving it. Give to him this cambric garment of mine, and bid him wear it to-morrow in the fight. If he loves me he will consider it a talisman more potent and more secure than steel, and, full of confidence, will present himself at the tournament without any other armour except his greaves, his shield, and his helmet. If he does this and triumphs, I shall be ready to give him any proof of my love that he may demand. If he does not succeed, he shall none the less have my esteem and friendship for having essayed it. If he should fall, I will wear mourning for him and die in a convent. If he refuse, I shall despise him as the falsest and most cowardly of men.’”

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Miton, who had sunk on his knees to receive from the messenger of his love the packet, which he covered with kisses, rose smilingly, and spoke thus to the attendant:—

“Return to her whom you have the honour to serve, and tell her that I am happy and proud that she has given me an opportunity of dying for her pleasure. Without her, life is nothing to me: and this is putting me to too easy a trial, for I feared she would send me away from her, and that would have been to put me to a slow and lingering death. I feel truly blest now, since I can devote to her openly every minute as it passes to her service.”

Miton gave all the gold and silver he possessed to the messenger, dismissed her, and prepared himself for the battle.

He put on the garment sent him by Mita, and I assure you he looked very well, and not at all ridiculous, when he was equipped as his lady had commanded.

I ought to tell you, my friends, that our knight was about twenty-three, and had a handsome face, framed in long yellow locks. He was second to none in either elegance or strength.

The cambric corselet which he had assumed, bound round his waist with a rich girdle, came down to his knees, leaving bare his neck and arms, which were very white.

Thus equipped he visited the Archbishop Turpin, related to him his adventure, confessed to him, took the sacrament, and then gave himself up to prayer until the hour for entering the lists.

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Original Size -- Medium-Size