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is so cold and so very, very white"--and the child struggled to free his hand that still held the cup.
"Who art thou, then?" asked Charlemagne.
"My name is Roland--let me go, I pray thee," and again he tried to drag himself free. And Charlemagne mockingly said:
"Roland, I fear thy father and mother have taught thee to be a clever thief."
Then anger blazed in Roland's eyes.
"My mother is a lady of high degree!" he cried, "and I am her page, her cupbearer, her knight! I do not speak false words!"--and he would have struck the King for very rage.
Then Charlemagne turned to his lords and asked--"Who is this child?"
And one made answer: "He is the son of thy sister Bertha, and of Milon the knight, who was drowned these three weeks agone."
Then the heart of Charlemagne grew heavy with remorse when he found that his sister had so nearly died of want, and from that day she never knew aught but kindness and tenderness from him, while Roland was dear to him as his own child.
He was a Douzepere now, and when the envoys from Saragossa had delivered their message to Charlemagne, he was one of those who helped to do them honour at a great feast that was held for them in a pavilion raised in the orchard.
Early in the morning Charlemagne heard mass, and then, on his golden throne under the great pine, he sat and took counsel with his Douzeperes. Not one of them trusted Marsile, but Ganelon, who had married the widowed Bertha and who had a jealous hatred for his step-son--so beloved by his mother, so loved and honoured by the King--was ever ready to oppose the counsel of Roland. Thus did he persuade Charlemagne to send a messenger to Marsile, commanding him to deliver up the keys of Saragossa, in all haste to become a Christian, and in person to come and, with all humility, pay homage as vassal to Charlemagne.
Then arose the question as to which of the peers should bear the arrogant message. Roland, ever greedy for the post of danger, impetuously asked t