"Choose ye for me whom I shall send. Let it be one who is wise; brave, yet not over-rash, and who will defend mine honour valiantly."
Then Roland, who never knew an ungenerous thought, quickly said: "Then, indeed, it must be Ganelon who goes, for if he goes, or if he stays, you have none better than he."
And all the other peers applauded the choice, and Charlemagne said to Ganelon:
"Come hither, Ganelon, and receive my staff and glove, which the voice of all the Franks have given to thee."
But the honour which all the others coveted was not held to be an honour by Ganelon. In furious rage he turned upon Roland:
"You and your friends have sent me to my death!" he cried. "But if by a miracle I should return, look you to yourself, Roland, for assuredly I shall be revenged!"
And Roland grew red, then very white, and said:
"I had taken thee for another man, Ganelon. Gladly will I take thy place. Wilt give me the honour to bear thy staff and glove to Saragossa, sire?" And eagerly he looked Charlemagne in the face—eager as, when a child, he had craved the cup of wine for his mother's sake.
But Charlemagne, with darkened brow, shook his head.
"Ganelon must go," he said, "for so have I commanded. Go! for the honour of Jesus Christ, and for your Emperor."
