CHAPTER XII. THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF ANGOULAFFRE.
ANGULAFFRE was stretched on the ground, surrounded by his companions in arms when the surgeons came to dress his wounds, he rejected their aid.
“Go to the Evil One, vile concocters of drugs! My soul is not foolish enough to dwell in so dilapidated a mansion as that which I have to offer now. All your remedies will but drive her away the sooner. Come hither, Alcalde of Valentia, Corsablix, Margariz—all of you—come round me, that I may die while looking on the faces of friends. Tell to King Marsillus the manner of Murad’s death—and mine. Tell him that: with my last breath I called for vengeance on Roland. I bequeath to you a hatred so fierce and strong, that it cannot but survive me. I leave all my property, without exception, for the furtherance of vengeance. If bribery can help you, spare nothing: there is no human integrity that could withstand the sight of the wealth you have to offer. Swear to me you will spare no means of hastening the downfall of this accursed one, and I shall die more happy.”
“Rely upon us,” said Priamus. “We inherit your hatred; and whether it be ten years, or whether it be twenty years hence, rely on it, this Roland shall perish by our hands!”
“We will hew him into as many pieces as he has given you wounds,” said Garlan the Bearded.
