"Then, why should I do aught to help him?" asked the goblin. "Why do
you call me from my rest, and bid me betray my friends?"

"That is not for thee to ask," said Malagis. "I have called thee as a
master calls his slave. Tell me now, and tell me truly, is there here
any pass across the mountains into Italy?"

"There is such a pass," answered the goblin gravely; "but it is hidden
to eyes like mine. I cannot guide you to it, nor can any of my kind
show you how to find it. It is a pathway which only the pure can
tread."

"Tell me one thing more," said Malagis. "Tell me one thing, and I will
let thee go. How prosper thy friends the Saracens at Rome?"

"They have taken all but the Capitol," was the answer. "They have
slain many Christians, and burned many buildings. The pope and the
cardinals have fled. If Charlemagne reach not Italy within a month,
ill will it fare with his friends."

Then Malagis, satisfied with what he had heard, unwound the spell of
his enchantments; and amid a cloud of fire and smoke the goblin flew
back into the mountains.

Next the good Turpin came forward, with a crosier in his hand, and a
bishop's mitre on his head, and a long white robe thrown over his
shoulders, scarcely hiding the steel armor which he wore beneath. He
lifted up his eyes to heaven and prayed. And the sound of his voice
arose among the cliffs, and resounded among the rocks, and was echoed