svalles. Well, there is another
book called 'Roland the Wrathful,' or in Italian (in which it was
written), 'Orlando Furioso,' telling of the adventures of the great
Paladin when he was a young man, and those of his friends. It is of one
of these stories about a lady named Bradamante that you are going to
hear now.

* * * * *

From childhood, Bradamante had loved all feats of arms, and her chiefest
joy was to mount the most fiery horses in her father's stable. She grew
up very tall and strong, as well as fair to see, and soon put on man's
armour, and began to take her part in tournaments, and it was rare
indeed that she failed to carry off the prize. In truth, it was not long
before her skill was said to be equal to that of Roland's cousin, the
renowned Rinaldo.

* * * * *

Of course so wise and beautiful a maiden had no lack of wooers, but
Bradamante listened to none, save only to the brave Roger, who had
quitted the Moorish court to seek adventures in the lands of Charlemagne
the emperor. But she kept silence as to her love, and was content to
wait till such time as Roger should think fit to claim her as his bride.

Suddenly the tidings came to her that Roger had vanished from among men,
no one knew whither. As was her wont, Bradamante heard, and said
nothing, but the next morning she sharpened her sword, and looked to
the fastenings of her helmet, and rode off to seek him if perchance some
ill had befallen him.

In this quest she met with some adventures of her own, but of these we
have no time to tell. Bradamante, we may be sure, did not linger over
them, but pushed on till she crossed a mountain, and reached a valley
watered by a stream and shaded by large trees.

On the bank lay a young man with his head buried in his hands and
seemingly in a state of deepest misery. He had flung his horse's bridle
over the branch of a beech, and on the same bough he had hung his shield
and sword. His looks and posture were so forlorn that Bradamante was
moved to pity, and he himself was nothing loth to confess his woes,
pretending the while to take her for a man, though he knew well she was
a maiden. He was journeying, such was his tale, to the court of
Charlemagne with a company of spearmen to aid the emperor in the war he
was waging with the Moorish king of Spain. In the company was riding a
damsel whom the knight had but lately freed from the power of a drag