put himself on his defence.  Their horses, struck at the same moment with the spur, rushed upon one another with the impetuosity of a tempest.  Their shields were pierced each with the other’s lance, and only the temper of their breastplates saved their lives.  Both the horses recoiled with the violence of the shock; but the unknown knight’s recovered itself at the touch of the spur; the Saracen king’s fell dead, and bore down his master with him.  The white knight, seeing his enemy in this condition, cared not to renew the combat, but, thinking he had done enough for glory, pursued his way through the forest, and was a mile off before Sacripant had got free from his horse.

As a ploughman, stunned by a thunder-clap which has stricken dead the oxen at his plough, stands motionless, sadly contemplating his loss, so Sacripant stood confounded and overwhelmed with mortification at having Angelica a witness of his defeat.  He groaned, he sighed, less from the pain of his bruises than for the shame of being reduced to such a state before her.  The princess took pity on him, and consoled him as well as she could.  “Banish your regrets, my lord,” she said, “this accident has happened solely in consequence of the feebleness of your horse, which had more need of rest and food than of such an encounter as this.  Nor can your adversary gain any credit by it, since he has hurried away, not venturing a second trial.”  While she thus consoled Sacripant they perceived a person approach, who seemed a courier, with bag and horn.  As soon as he came up, he accosted Sacripant, and inquired if he had seen a knight pass that way, bearing a white shield and with a white plume to his helmet.  “I have, indeed, seen too much of him,” said Sacripant, “it is he who has brought me to the ground; but at least I hope to learn from you who that knight is.”  “That I can easily inform you,” said the man; “know then that, if you have been overthrown, you owe your fate to the high prowess of a lady as beautiful as she is brave.  It is the fair and illustrious Bradamante who has won from you the honors of victory.”

At these words the courier rode on his way, leaving Sacripant more confounded and mortified than ever.  In silence he mounted the horse of Angelica, taking the lady behind him on the croup, and rode away in search of a more secure asylum.  Hardly had they ridden two miles when a new sound was heard in the forest, and they perceived a gallant and powerful horse, which, leaping the ravines and dashing aside the branches that opposed his passage, appeared before them, accoutred with a rich harness adorned with gold.