Sunday, January 28:
Marseilles.
Roland’s Death — once again he sounds his horn — the fearful lament of the echo travels afar — Olifant bursts. Charlemagne becomes fearful: the traitor Ganelon reassures him — it is nothing, all is well with Roland, he is out hunting, that’s all. — the King — does in fact calm himself. ‘Then it cannot be so bad’ — Now the hero’s last strength deserts him: resting his head against the rock, he silently awaits death. But his sword ‘Durandal’, — that must not fall into base hands: with his last strength he attempts to shatter it; in vain he strikes it against _ the rocks — the rocks crack (his last works of art!) but the sword does not break;— then he hurls it high over the mountain peaks before him: it falls into the mysterious depths of an inaccessible mountain lake — none will be able to find it. Now he is calm. The sun sets — the hero breathes Corisande’s name — and expires. —
And ultimately Charlemagne arrives at the truth. Needless to say it now goes ill with the traitor also. He is duly punished. Also vengeance is taken. Four hundred thousand unbelievers fall, and 300 cities are destroyed by fire. — Only Corisande understands: she embraces her beloved’s body — and dies. — — A fine model. So it is — and ever was. — The horn is not heard, the traitor remains close to the King, — the hero languishes — only love redeems. — Childish, foolish world! —