"We live or die together this day," said he; "keep but fast hold till
we are out of the press, and then my horse is yours."
Seyton heard and exerted his remaining strength, and, by their joint
efforts, Roland brought him out of danger, and behind the spot from
whence he had witnessed the disastrous conclusion of the fight. But no
sooner were they under shelter of the trees, than Seyton let go his
hold, and, in spite of Roland's efforts to support him, fell at length
on the turf. "Trouble yourself no more with me," he said; "this is my
first and my last battle--and I have already seen too much to wish to
see the close. Hasten to save the Queen--and commend me to
Catherine--she will never more be mistaken for me nor I for her--the
last sword-stroke has made an eternal distinction."
"Let me aid you to mount my horse," said Roland, eagerly, "and you
may yet be saved--I can find my own way on foot--turn but my horse's
head westward, and he will carry you fleet and easy as the wind."
"I will never mount steed more," said the youth; "farewell--I love
thee better dying, than ever I thought to have done while in life--I
would that old man's blood were not on my hand!--_Sancte Benedicte,
ora pro me_--Stand not to look on a dying man, but haste to save
the Queen!"
These words were spoken with the last effort of his voice, and scarce
were they uttered ere the speaker was no more. They recalled Roland to
a sense of the duty which he had well-nigh forgotten, but they did not
reach his ears only.
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