Mitaine heard him.
“I will show him to you, if you will follow me;” and she began to strip off her armour piecemeal. Roland caught her by the arm to stop her—?
“What proof of madness are you going to give us now?”
“You take wisdom for folly, my lord. Do you think I should be suffered to pass, wearing your colours? My mother used to scold me for spoiling my clothes; they might get damaged now.”
“And you think I am going to let you perish like this?”
“Is it not absurd to make all this difficulty about it? Have we not come here to die?”
And Mitaine freed herself from his grasp, and sprang on a Saracen horse that she caught as it went riderless by. She was naked to the waist, and her golden hair floated around her shoulders. She seemed like the spirit of youth. Death fled from the presence of such lofty courage.
“Come and seek me, dastard of a Croquemitaine!” she cried. “Here I am well protected from thee.”
Roland followed her; his eyes were blinded with tears.
“Merciful heaven! what will they say of me for all these deaths? I shall scarce dare to show myself to-night in Paradise.”