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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
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.
Having landed in France, and traversed many provinces on his way to the
army, he one day, in crossing a forest, arrived beside a fountain, and
alighted to drink. While he stooped at the fountain a young rustic
sprang from the copse, mounted Rabican, and rode away. It was a new
trick of the enchanter Atlantes. Astolpho, hearing the noise, turned
his head just in time to see his loss; and, starting up, pursued the
thief, who, on his part, did not press the horse to his full speed, but
just kept in sight of his pursuer till they both issued from the
forest; and then Rabican and his rider took shelter in a castle which
stood near. Astolpho followed, and penetrated without difficulty within
the court-yard of the castle, where he looked around for the rider and
his horse, but could see no trace of either, nor any person of whom he
could make inquiry. Suspecting that enchantment was employed to
embarrass him, he bethought him of his book, and on consulting it
discovered that his suspicions were well founded. He also learned what
country. Logestilla lent him the best vessel of her fleet to convey him
to the mainland. She gave him at parting a wonderful book, which taught
the secret of overcoming all manners of enchantments, and begged him to
carry it always with him, out of regard for her. She also gave him
another gift, which surpassed everything of the kind that mortal
workmanship can frame; yet it was nothing in appearance but a simple
horn.
Astolpho, protected by these gifts, thanked the good fairy, took leave
of her, and set out on his return to France. His voyage was prosperous,
and on reaching the desired port he took leave of the faithful
mariners, and continued his journey by land. As he proceeded over
mountains and through valleys he often met with bands of robbers, wild
beasts, and venomous serpents, but he had only to sound his horn to put
them all to flight.
horseback seeking a strayed heifer, she begged him to come to her
assistance, and endeavor to remove the wounded man to a more secure
asylum.
Angelica, having prepared the plants by bruising them between two
stones, laid them with her fair hand on Medoro's wound. The remedy soon
restored in some degree the strength of the wounded man, who, before he
would quit the spot, made them cover with earth and turf the bodies of
his friend and of the prince. Then surrendering himself to the pity of
his deliverers, he allowed them to place him on the horse of the
shepherd, and conduct him to his cottage. It was a pleasant farmhouse
on the borders of the wood, bearing marks of comfort and competency.
There the shepherd lived with his wife and children. There Angelica
tended Medoro, and there, by the devoted care of the beautiful queen,
his sad wound closed over, and he recovered his perfect health.
