d, how he lay all pale and
fainting on the ground and how the blood gushed in great streams from
his wound. "I know not what to do," he cried. "This is an ill chance
that has befallen you. Truly France is bereaved of her bravest son." So
saying he went near to swoon in the saddle as he sat. Then there befell
a strange thing. Oliver had lost so much of his blood that he could not
any more see clearly or know who it was that was near him. So he raised
up his arm and smote with all his strength that yet remained to him on
the helmet of Roland his friend. The helmet he cleft in twain to the
visor; but by good fortune it wounded not the head.

Roland looked at him and said in a gentle voice, "Did you this of set
purpose? I am Roland your friend, and have not harmed you."

"Ah!" said Oliver, "I hear you speak, but I cannot see you. Pardon me
that I struck you; it was not done of set purpose."

"It harmed me not," answered Roland; "with all my heart and before God I
forgive you." And this was the way these two friends parted at the last.

And now Oliver felt the pains of death come over him. He could no longer
see nor hear. Therefore he turned his thoughts to making his peace with
God, and clasping his hands lifted them to heaven and made his
confession. "O Lord," he said, "take me into Paradise. And do Thou bless
King Charles and the sweet land of France." And when he had said thus
he died. And Roland looked at him as he lay. There was not upon earth a
more sorrowful man than he. "Dear comrade," he said, "this is indeed an
evil day. Many a year have we two been together. Never have I done wrong
to you; never have you done wrong to me. How shall I bear to live
without you?" And he swooned where he sat on his horse. But the stirrup
held him up that he did not fall to the ground.

When Roland came to himself he looked about him and saw how great was
the calamity that had befallen his army. For now there were left alive
to him two only, Turpin the Archbishop and Walter of Hum. Walter had but
that moment come down from the hills where he had been fighting so
fiercely with the heathen that all his men were dead; now he cried to
Roland for help. "Noble Count, where are you? I am Walter of Hum, and am
not unworthy to be your friend. Help me therefore. For see how my spear
is broken and my shield cleft in twain. My hauberk is in pieces, and my
body sorely wounded. I am about to die; but I have sold my life at a
great price."

Wh