If user are unable to view image,
visit here
The younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs:
"Though I know well that my recital will subject me to worse treatment
by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom this woman will not
fail to report it, yet I will not hide from you the facts. Ah! why
should I fear his rage? If he should take my life, I know not what
better boon than death I can ask.
"My name is Isabella. I am the daughter of the king of Galicia, or
rather I should say misfortune and grief are my parents. Young, rich,
modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared to combine to
render my lot happy. Alas! I see myself to-day poor, humbled,
miserable, and destined perhaps to yet further afflictions. It is a
year since, my father having given notice that he would open the lists
for a tournament at Bayonne, a great number of chevaliers from all
Bradamante promptly armed herself, and mounted her horse. Melissa led
her by forced journeys, by field and forest, beguiling the way with
conversation on the theme which interested her hearer most. When at
last they reached the forest, she repeated once more her instructions,
and then took her leave, for fear the enchanter might espy her, and be
put on his guard.
Bradamante rode on about two miles when suddenly she beheld Rogero, as
it appeared to her, hard pressed by two fierce giants. While she
hesitated she heard his voice calling on her for help. At once the
cautions of Melissa lost their weight. A sudden doubt of the faith and
truth of her kind monitress flashed across her mind. "Shall I not
believe my own eyes and ears?" she said, and rushed forward to his
defence. Rogero fled, pursued by the giants, and Bradamante followed,
passing with them through the castle gate. When there, Bradamante was
and white. If you cannot defend them against me, how pray will you do
so when Orlando challenges them?" Dardinel replied: "Thou shalt learn
that I can defend the arms I bear, and shed new glory upon them. No one
shall rend them from me but with life." Saying these words, Dardinel
rushed upon Rinaldo with sword uplifted. The chill of mortal terror
filled the souls of the Saracens when they beheld Rinaldo advance to
attack the prince, like a lion against a young bull. The first blow
came from the hand of Dardinel, and the weapon rebounded from
Mambrino's helmet without effect. Rinaldo smiled, and said, "I will now
show you if my strokes are more effectual." At these words he thrust
the unfortunate Dardinel in the middle of his breast. The blow was so
violent that the cruel weapon pierced the body, and came out a
palm-breadth behind his back. Through this wound the life of Dardinel
issued with his blood, and his body fell helpless to the ground.
discovered her whom he had believed overwhelmed in the waves! They
embraced one another, and wept for joy. Orlando, sharing in their
happiness, congratulated himself in having been the instrument of it.
The princess recounted to Zerbino what the illustrious paladin had done
for her, and the prince threw himself at Orlando's feet, and thanked
him as having twice preserved his life.
While these exchanges of congratulation and thankfulness were going on,
a sound in the underwood attracted their attention, and caused the two
knights to brace their helmets and stand on their guard. What the cause
of the interruption was we shall record in another chapter.
MEDORO
sight of so much youth and beauty commanded pity. He stayed his arm.
The young man spoke in suppliant tones. "Ah! signor," said he, "I
conjure you by the God whom you serve, deprive me not of life until I
shall have buried the body of the prince, my master. Fear not that I
will ask you any other favor; life is not dear to me; I desire death as
soon as I shall have performed this sacred duty. Do with me then as you
please. Give my limbs a prey to the birds and beasts; only let me first
bury my prince." Medoro pronounced these words with an air so sweet and
tender that a heart of stone would have been moved by them. Zerbino was
so to the bottom of his soul. He was on the point of uttering words of
mercy, when a cruel subaltern, forgetting all respect to his commander,
plunged his lance into the breast of the young Moor. Zerbino, enraged
at his brutality, turned upon the wretch to take vengeance, but he
saved himself by a precipitate flight.
