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stupefied, silently agreeing that they were affording their rival a
fair opportunity to triumph over them. Rinaldo, approaching Bayard,
any passers-by, Zerbino inscribed on the bark this caution: "These are
the arms of the Paladin Orlando."
Having finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and just then
a knight rode up, and requested Zerbino to tell him the meaning of the
trophy. The prince related the facts as they had happened; and
Mandricardo, for it was that Saracen knight, full of joy, rushed
forward, and seized the sword, saying, "No one can censure me for what
I do; this sword is mine; I can take my own wherever I find it. It is
plain that Orlando, not daring to defend it against me, has
counterfeited madness to excuse him in surrendering it."
Zerbino vehemently exclaimed, "Touch not that sword. Think not to
possess it without a contest. If it be true that the arms you wear are
those of Hector, you must have got them by theft, and not by prowess."the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon the horse, and
taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest was made for it,
suitable to be carried with them on their way. The hermit's plan was to
escort his charge to a monastery, not many days' journey distant, where
Isabella resolved to spend the remainder of her days. Thus they
travelled day after day, choosing the most retired ways, for the
country was full of armed men. One day a cavalier met them, and barred
their way. It was no other than Rodomont, king of Algiers, who had just
left the camp of Agramant, full of indignation at the treatment he had
received from Doralice. At sight of the lovely lady and her reverend
attendant, with their horse laden with a burden draped with black, he
asked the meaning of their journey. Isabella told him her affliction,
and her resolution to renounce the world and devote herself to
religion, and to the memory of the friend she had lost. Rodomont
laughed scornfully at this, and told her that her project was absurd;Immediately they attacked one another with the utmost fury. The air
resounded with thick-falling blows. Zerbino, skilful and alert, evaded
for a time with good success the strokes of Durindana; but at length a
terrible blow struck him on the neck. He fell from his horse, and the
Tartar king, possessed of the spoils of his victory, rode away.
ZERBINO AND ISABELLA
Zerbino's pain at seeing the Tartar prince go off with the sword
surpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood so
reduced his strength that he could not move from where he fell.
Isabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could only bemoan
him, and chide her cruel fate. Zerbino said, "If I could but leavethee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it would not distress me
to die; but to abandon thee so, without protection, is sad indeed." She
replied, "Think not to leave me, dearest; our souls shall not be
parted; this sword will give me the means to follow thee." Zerbino's
last words implored her to banish such a thought, but live, and be true
to his memory. Isabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful to
him so long as life should last.
When he ceased to breathe, Isabella's cries resounded through the
forest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened to the
spot. He soothed and calmed her, urging those consolations which the
word of God supplies; and at last brought her to wish for nothing else
but to devote herself for the rest of life wholly to religion.
As she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lord abandoned,that charms like hers were meant to be enjoyed, not buried, and that he
himself would more than make amends for her dead lover. The monk, who
promptly interposed to rebuke this impious talk, was commanded to hold
his peace; and still persisting was seized by the knight and hurled
over the edge of the cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned.
Rodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to the sad
lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used by lovers,
said, "she was his very heart, his life, his light." Having laid aside
all violence, he humbly sued that she would accompany him to his
retreat, near by. It was a ruined chapel from which the monks had been
driven by the disorders of the time, and which Rodomont had taken
possession of. Isabella, who had no choice but to obey, followed him,
meditating as she went what resource she could find to escape out of
his power, and keep her vow to her dead husband, to be faithful to his
