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"Thou liest," cried Orlando; "and all who say so lie. I am Orlando,
whom you seek; yes, I am he who slew your father honorably. Hold, here
is the sword: you shall have it if your courage avails to merit it.
Though it belongs to me by right, I will not use it in this dispute.
See, I hang it on this tree; you shall be master of it, if you bereave
me of life; not else."

At these words Orlando drew Durindana, and hung it on one of the
branches of a tree near by.

Both knights, boiling with equal ardor, rode off in a semicircle; then
rushed together with reins thrown loose, and struck one another with
their lances. Both kept their seats, immovable. The splinters of their
lances flew into the air, and no weapon remained for either but the
fragment which he held in his hand. Then those two knights, coveredwith iron mail, were reduced to the necessity of fighting with staves,
in the manner of two rustics, who dispute the boundary of a meadow, or
the possession of a spring.

These clubs could not long keep whole in the hands of such sturdy
smiters, who were soon reduced to fight with naked fists. Such warfare
was more painful to him that gave than to him that received the blows.
They next clasped, and strained each his adversary, as Hercules did
Antaeus. Mandricardo, more enraged than Orlando, made violent efforts
to unseat the paladin, and dropped the rein of his horse. Orlando, more
calm, perceived it. With one hand he resisted Mandricardo, with the
other he twitched the horse's bridle over the ears of the animal. The
Saracen dragged Orlando with all his might, but Orlando's thighs held
the saddle like a vise. At last the efforts of the Saracen broke the
girths of Orlando's horse; the saddle slipped; the knight, firm in hisstirrups, slipped with it, and came to the ground hardly conscious of
his fall. The noise of his armor in falling startled Mandricardo's
horse, now without a bridle. He started off in full career, heeding
neither trees nor rocks nor broken ground. Urged by fright, he ran with
furious speed, carrying his master, who, almost distracted with rage,
shouted and beat the animal with his fists, and thereby impelled his
flight. After running thus three miles or more, a deep ditch opposed
their progress. The horse and rider fell headlong into it, and did not
find the bottom covered with feather-beds or roses. They got sadly
bruised; but were lucky enough to escape without any broken limbs.

Mandricardo, as soon as he gained his feet, seized the horse by his
mane with fury; but, having no bridle, could not hold him. He looked
round in hopes of finding something that would do for a rein. Just then
fortune, who seemed willing to help him at last, brought that way apeasant with a bridle in his hand, who was in search of his farm horse
that had strayed away.

Orlando, having speedily repaired his horse's girths, remounted, and
waited a good hour for the Saracen to return. Not seeing him, he
concluded to go in search of him. He took an affectionate leave of
Zerbino and Isabella, who would willingly have followed him; but this
the brave paladin would by no means permit. He held it unknightly to go
in search of an enemy accompanied by a friend, who might act as a
defender. Therefore, desiring them to say to Mandricardo, if they
should meet him, that his purpose was to tarry in the neighborhood
three days, and then repair to the camp of Charlemagne, he took down
Durindana from the tree, and proceeded in the direction which the
Saracen's horse had taken. But the animal, having no guide but its
terror, had so doubled and confused its traces that Orlando, after twodays spent in the search, gave up the attempt.

It was about the middle of the third day when the paladin arrived on
the pleasant bank of a stream which wound through a meadow enamelled
with flowers. High trees, whose tops met and formed an arbor,
over-shadowed the fountain; and the breeze which blew through their
foliage tempered the heat. Hither the shepherds used to resort to
quench their thirst, and to enjoy the shelter from the midday sun. The
air, perfumed with the flowers, seemed to breathe fresh strength into
their veins. Orlando felt the influence, though covered with his armor.
He stopped in this delicious arbor, where everything seemed to invite
to repose. But he could not have chosen a more fatal asylum. He there
spent the most miserable moments of his life.

He looked around, and noted with pleasure all the charms of the spot.