o his feet, Renaud roused his companions, vaulted upon his steed, and
charged the guard. He soon delivered his captive brother and carried him
off in triumph, after hanging the knight who had volunteered to act as
executioner.

[Sidenote: Montauban besieged by Charlemagne.] Charlemagne, still anxious
to seize and punish these refractory subjects, now collected an army and
began again to besiege the stronghold of Montauban. Occasional sallies and
a few bloody encounters were the only variations in the monotony of a
several-years' siege. But finally the provisions of the besieged became
very scanty. Malagigi, who knew that a number of provision wagons were
expected, advised Renaud to make a bold sally and carry them off, while he,
the necromancer, dulled the senses of the imperial army by scattering one
of his magic sleeping powders in the air. He had just begun his spell when
Oliver perceived him and, pouncing upon him, carried him off to the
emperor's tent. Oliver, on the way thither, never once relinquished his
grasp, although the magician tried to make him do so by throwing a pinch of
hellebore in his face.

While sneezing loudly the paladin told how he had caught the magician, and
the emperor vowed that the rascal should be hanged on the very next day.
When he heard this decree, Malagigi implored the emperor to give him a good
meal, since this was to be his last night on earth, pledging his word not
to leave the camp without the emperor. This promise so reassured
Charlemagne that he ordered a sumptuous repast, charging a few knights to
watch Malagigi, lest, after all, he should effect his escape. The meal
over, the necromancer again had recourse to his magic art to plunge the
whole camp into a deep sleep. Then, proceeding unmolested to the imperial
tent, he bore off the sleeping emperor to the gates of Montauban, which
flew open at his well-known voice.

Charlemagne, on awaking, was as surprised as dismayed to find himself in
the hands of his foes, who, however, when they saw his uneasiness,
gallantly gave him his freedom without exacting any pledge or ransom in
return. But when Malagigi heard of this foolhardy act of generosity, he
burned up his papers, boxes, and bags, and, when asked why he acted thus,
replied that he was about to leave his mad young kinsmen to their own
devices, and take refuge in a hermitage, where he intended to spend the
remainder of his life in repenting of his sins. Soon after this he
disa