LITMIR.BIZ

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his allies pillaging the place.

      At last the tunnel was complete; he crept out in the first fall of the darkness of night, threaded the familiar way up to the princess’s window, rested his foot on the cornice of the first story for a stepping-stone, and with one grasp of his hand had swept her off her couch before she had time to open her eyes. Then closing her mouth, so that she might not cry and raise an alarm, walked quietly back with her to his subterranean passage, down the sloping path of which he carried her in exultation.

      Quickly and silently as the feat had been performed, the keen bright eyes of a little black slave had followed the whole affair, as she lay at the foot of her mistress’s couch. She had seen the huge hand spread over the room, – the nail of its little finger had indeed sadly grazed her forehead. She recognized it at once as belonging to the giant, her mistress’s dread of whom she had so often shared. And no sooner was her helplessness to rescue her apparent, than she rushed madly into the banqueting-hall, tearing her clothes and plucking out her hair, and crying out in wailing accents what had befallen. It was not easy to gain credence to so strange a story; and when at last her earnestness induced belief in her sincerity, the princess’s room had to be searched to afford the necessary proof that she was gone. When this was found to be indeed but too true, the wail was taken up by all the people. The banquet was broken up, and every one went hither and thither, not knowing what to do; for, withal that the giant was so big, none had seen him pass to tell which way he had gone.

      But Carlo Magno, brave and self-possessed in the midst of all, saw an occasion to be of service to the poor Moorish princess, and make up for the disappointment he had caused her in the morning. It was plain to him that if the giant had stood under the window, as the little black slave had said, he must have left his foot-prints there; and that he could thence be tracked whithersoever he had gone. So he raised a loud voice, and bid all the people be still: and that if they would all remain without stirring, he would deliver their princess; for he wanted them not to stir up the soil any more, lest they should destroy the track.

      The voice of Carlo Magno, after what he had already done for them, possessed great authority with the people; and so all stood quite still, while he bade the little black slave guide him to the window; and there, under it, sure enough he found the giant’s footprints, two great holes in the sand, like dry tanks for water. Allowing due space for his prodigious stride, the prince readily found another and another, till they brought him to the mouth of the tunnel, where he had indeed passed. When all the people saw the great gaping hole which had never appeared there before that night, and gazed down its descending gullet, no wonder they thought it was the mouth of hell opened to vomit forth its monster.

      But Carlo Magno said he would deliver the princess though his enterprise should indeed lead him into the realms of Hades. And all the people applauded his courage, but he went down the black path alone.

      Though he travelled at all speed, the giant had now good start, and the length of his step was equal to several of the Christian prince’s charger; but Carlo Magno made such good haste that he had not got above a hundred miles before he heard the giant’s laugh, exulting over his prize, resounding through the gloomy passage, though still at some considerable distance. This roused the Christian prince’s indignation, and made him urge his steed yet faster, till at last he came within sight of him. And then, when he saw his monstrous arms bearing the little helpless princess, his compassion made him use yet greater speed, till at length just as he reached the mouth of the cave, Carlo Magno managed to overstep him by one bound of his horse, and then wheeling round confronted him with fearless eye.

      The giant I have already said was more of a bully than a warrior. When he saw the Christian knight so brave and firm, and withal encased in such strong armour, and brandishing his trenchant sword, he felt his best defence lay in hectoring and boasting, and thereby frightening the Christian hero from attempting to fight him.

      With a terrible voice, therefore, which made the rocks resound, he asked his opponent, on whom he lavished every startling epithet, what he meant by venturing to appear before him; following up the question by such a volley of imprecations and threats as he fancied would suffice to make him wish to escape with a whole skin.

      Carlo Magno, however, who knew that the dogs who bark most bite least, waited unmoved till he had exhausted his whole repertory of violent language, and then quite undismayed summoned him to surrender the maiden.

      Another loud and angry volley followed upon this demand, with further threats of the terrible vengeance he intended to take on the intruder.

      “Then,” said Carlo Magno, “if you will not give her up quietly, I must even take her by force.” And with that he dismounted and drew his sword. The giant saw now that he must defend his life, or he would lose it; and so, forced to fight, he drew his clumsy sword and began laying about him in right-determined fashion; but all his blows alighted far and wide of the Christian prince. Furious at finding his awkward efforts ineffectual, while the highly trained agility of the prince saved him from all his strokes, he began laying about him with such untempered violence that at last his weapon dropped from his hand. Fully expecting that Carlo Magno would try to possess himself of it, he hastily bent down to regain it. But Carlo Magno had other thoughts. Waiting calmly till the monster had bent him sufficiently low, he swung his fine sharp blade and buried it deep in his heart with the unerring dexterity with which the matador lays low his bull – at one thrust.

      Of course he severed the giant’s head afterwards to bear away as his trophy; and raising the princess in his arms, who had swooned away at sight of the horrid combat, bore her swiftly upwards through the subterranean path and delivered her, yet unconscious, to her father.

      EL CONDE SOL

      A great war was proclaimed between Spain and Portugal, and the king called all his knights to arms to follow him into the field.

      “Tell me, Conde,” said the wife of Conde Sol, “how many years will you be absent in this campaign?”

      “If I am not back, Condesa, in six years, reckon me dead, and forget me, and take another husband.”

      Six years pass, and eight, and ten, and one more yet, and the Conde Sol is not come back, nor has any news been heard of him. Men say he has fallen in the wars; but the Countess believes them not; her heart tells her that her husband lives, and she will take no rest and no diversion. Her father comes to see her, and he finds her always in tears.

      “What ails thee, daughter dear? Why are thy eyes ever filled with tears?”

      “Father, let me go to seek the Count; for my heart tells me he lives, and that I shall find him.”

      “Do all thou wilt, daughter, and my blessing go with thee!”

      The next morning the Countess sets out and goes to seek the Count, bowed down with sadness, by land and by sea, through all Spain and Italy and France. One day she comes to a vast plain shaded by pine-trees, and in the shade a herd of kine grazing.

      “Tell me, I pray you, vaquerita3, and tell me now in truth, whose are the kine grazing in these pastures?”

      “They belong to the Conde Sol, lady, who commands all this country.”

      “And all these wheat crops that they are just garnering in, vaquerita; tell me in truth, whose are they?”

      “The Conde Sol’s, lady; for it is he sows these fields.”

      “And whose are all those sheep, vaquerita, all with their little lambs gathered round them so tenderly?”

      “The Conde Sol’s, lady; for it is he who has them bred.”

      “And whose these gardens and this royal-seeming palace, vaquerita? Tell me the truth, I pray.”

      “Also the Conde Sol’s, lady; for it is there he has his abode.”

      “And whose are those horses, vaquerita, which I hear neighing in the stall?”

      “They belong to the Conde Sol, lady; for he goes with them to the hunt.”

      “And whose is that fair dame, vaquerita, who stands so near that knight?”

      “That

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