down as far back as possible on the stage. This, Pasquale said,
represented "una citta qualunque." The collection of little wooden
houses on Captain Shandy's bowling-green was not a more perfect Proteus
of a town than Pasquale's back cloth. This evening it was Barcelona. In
front of it, about halfway to the footlights, was a low wall of
fortifications. Just behind the fortifications the Spaniards were hooked
up into rather high links of the chains, so that, from the front, they
appeared to be looking over the wall and defending the city. Carlo Magno
and his paladins brought ladders, scaled the wall, fought the Spaniards
and effected an entrance. The fights were mostly duels. At one time
there were three duels; that is, six knights were all fighting at once,
three on each side. The places on the stage occupied by the front pair
were worn into hollows by their feet. The damage sustained by the
figures in the fury of the combats is very great; their armour gets
broken, their draperies torn, their joints and the hinges of their vizors
are put out of order and there is much to be done to them before they can
appear again.

For the conclusion we came to the front and took our places as the
curtain drew up on a wood. The Empress Marfisa entered in all her
bravery, riding cross-legged on her charger and looking round, first this
way, then that. She was searching the wood for Bradamante who had
retired from the world to "una grotta oscura" to die of grief. The
empress looked about and rode here and there but could see Bradamante
nowhere, so she rode away to search another part of the wood and the
scene changed. We were now in the obscure grotto and here came Marfisa,
riding on her charger and looking about; she could see her sister-in-law
nowhere and was overcome with anxiety. Presently, in the dim light, she
spied something on the ground; she dismounted, went far into the cave,
and--could it be?--yes, it was the unconscious form of Bradamante. She
knelt down by her, embraced her and called her by her name, but there was
no reply. She kissed her and called "Bradamante," still there was no
reply. She fondled her, and called her her "dolce cognata,"--her sweet
sister-in-law--and at length Bradamante raised herself with an effort,
recognized Marfisa and saying, "Farewell, sister, I am dying," fell back
and expired. An angel fluttered down, received her soul from her lips
and carried it up to heaven, while Marfisa