t last under control,
champed his bit and pawed the ground with his hoofs. Vortigern raised
his head towards the terrace whence the bouquets had just been thrown at
him, when a formidable din arose from a distance, followed immediately
by the cry, echoed and re-echoed: "The Emperor!" "The Emperor!"

At the announcement, all the women forthwith left the balcony to descend
and receive the monarch under the portico of the palace.

While the crowd swayed back and forward, crying: "Long live Charles!"
"Long live Charles the Great!" the grandson of Amael saw a troop of
riders approaching at a gallop. They might have been taken for
equestrian statues of iron. Mounted upon chargers caparisoned in iron,
their own iron casques hid their faces; cuirassed in iron and gloved in
iron, they wore leggings of iron, and bucklers of the same metal. The
last rays of the westering sun shone from the points of their iron
lances. In short, nothing was heard but the clash of iron. At the head
of these cavaliers, whom he preceded, and, like them, cased in iron from
head to foot, rode a man of colossal stature. Hardly arrived before the
principal portico, he alighted slowly from his horse and ran limping
towards the group of women who there awaited him, calling out to them,
as he ran, in a little shrill and squeaky voice that contrasted
strangely with his enormous build:

"Good-day, little ones. Good-day, dear daughters. Good-day to all of
you, my darlings." Without giving any heed to the cheers of the crowd
and to the respectful salutations of the bishops and other dignitaries,
who hurried to meet him, the Emperor Charles, that giant in iron,
disappeared within the palace, followed by his feminine cohort.

CHAPTER III.

IN THE GALLERIES OF THE PALACE.

Amael and his grandson were lodged in one of the upper chambers of the
palace, whither they were conducted by Hildebrad to rest after the
fatigue of their recent journey. Supper was served to them and they were
left to retire for the night.

At break of day the next morning, Octave knocked at the door of the two
Bretons and informed them that the Emperor wished to see them. The Roman
urged Vortigern to clothe himself at his best. The Breton lad had not
much to choose from. He had with him only two suits of clothes, the one
he wore on the journey, another, green of color and embroidered with
orange wool. This notwithstanding, thanks to the fresh and new clothes,
in which the colors