er he trust thee or not."

"It shall be done," returned the demon.

There was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared.

Marsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction of
Orlando, by sending before him his vassal, King Blanchardin, with his
presents of wines and other luxuries. The temperate but courteous hero
took them in good part, and distributed them as the traitor wished; and
then Blanchardin, on pretence of going forward to salute Charlemagne,
returned, and put himself at the head of the second army, which was the
post assigned him by his liege-lord. King Falseron, whose son Orlando
had slain in battle, headed the first army, and King Balugante the
third. Marsilius made a speech to them, in which he let them into his
design, and concluded by recommending to their good will the son of his
friend Gan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who
was the only soul amongst the Christian they were to spare.

This son of Gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who distrusted
the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be with Orlando,
had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the little Christian
host, considering the tremendous valor of their lord and his friends,
were not to be sold for nothing. Rinaldo, alas! the second thunderbolt
of Christendom, was destined not to be there in time to meet the issue.
The paladins in vain begged Orlando to be on his guard against
treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men. The great heart of
the Champion of the Faith was unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as
he could help it. He refused to summon aid which might be superfluous;
neither would he do anything but what his liege-lord had directed. And
yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving. A shadow had fallen on his
heart, great and cheerful as it was. The anticipations of his friends
disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them. Perhaps by
a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; but he felt bound
not to encourage the impression. Besides, time pressed; the moment of
the looked-for tribute was at hand, and little combinations of
circumstances determine often the greatest events.

King Marsilius was to arrive early next day with the tribute, and
Oliver, with the morning sun, rode forth to reconnoitre, and see if he
could discover the peaceful pomp of the Spanish court in the distance.
He rode up the nearest height, and from the top of it beheld