bor,
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.
He saw that some of the trees were carved with inscriptions--he drew
near, and read them, and what was his surprise to find that they
composed the name of Angelica! Farther on he found the name of Medoro
mixed with hers. The paladin thought he dreamed. He stood like one
amazed--like a bird that, rising to fly, finds its feet caught in a net.

Orlando followed the course of the stream, and came to one of its turns
where the rocks of the mountain bent in such a way as to form a sort of
grotto. The twisted stems of ivy and the wild vine draped the entrance
of this recess, scooped by the hand of nature.

The unhappy paladin, on entering the grotto, saw letters which appeared
to have been lately carved. They were verses which Medoro had written
in honor of his happy nuptials with the beautiful queen. Orlando tried
to persuade himself it must be some other Angelica whom those verses
celebrated, and as for Medoro, he had never heard his name. The sun was
now declining, and Orlando remounted his horse, and went on his way. He
soon saw the roof of a cottage whence the smoke ascended; he heard the
barking of dogs and the lowing of cattle, and arrived at a humble
dwelling which seemed to offer an asylum for the night. The inmates, as
soon as they saw him, hastened to tender him service. One took his
horse, another his shield and cuirass, another his golden spurs. This
cottage was the very same where Medoro had been carried, deeply
wounded,--where Angelica had tended him, and afterwards married him.
The shepherd who lived in it loved to tell everybody the story of this
marriage, and soon related it, with all its details, to the miserable
Orlando.

Having finished it, he went away, and returned with the precious
bracelet which Angelica, grateful for his services, had given him as a
memorial. It was the one which Orlando had himself