“If I may believe my eyes, which penetrate with difficulty the underwood,” said Angelica, “that horse that dashes so stoutly through the bushes is Bayard, and I marvel how he seems to know the need we have of him, mounted as we are both on one feeble animal.”  Sacripant, dismounting from the palfrey, approached the fiery courser, and attempted to seize his bridle, but the disdainful animal, turning from him, launched at him a volley of kicks enough to have shattered a wall of marble.  Bayard then approached Angelica with an air as gentle and loving as a faithful dog could his master after a long separation.  For he remembered how she had caressed him, and even fed him, in Albracca.  She took his bridle in her left hand, while with her right she patted his neck.  The beautiful animal, gifted with wonderful intelligence, seemed to submit entirely.  Sacripant, seizing the moment to vault upon him, controlled his curvetings, and Angelica, quitting the croup of the palfrey, regained her seat.

But, turning his eyes toward a place where was heard a noise of arms, Sacripant beheld Rinaldo.  That hero now loves Angelica more than his life, and she flies him as the timid crane the falcon.

The fountain of which Angelica had drunk produced such an effect on the beautiful queen that, with distressed countenance and trembling voice, she conjured Sacripant not to wait the approach of Rinaldo, but to join her in flight.

“Am I, then,” said Sacripant, “of so little esteem with you that you doubt my power to defend you?  Do you forget the battle of Albracca, and how, in your defence, I fought single-handed against Agrican and all his knights?”

Angelica made no reply, uncertain what to do; but already Rinaldo was too near to be escaped.  He advanced menacingly to the Circassian king, for he recognized his horse.

“Vile thief,” he cried, “dismount from that horse, and prevent the punishment that is your due for daring to rob me of my property.  Leave, also, the princess in my hands; for it would indeed be a sin to suffer so charming a lady and so gallant a charger to remain in such keeping.”

The king of Circassia, furious at being thus insulted, cried out, “Thou liest, villain, in giving me the name of thief, which better belongs to thyself than to me.  It is true, the beauty of this lady and the perfection of this horse are unequalled; come on, then, and let us try which of us is most worthy to possess them.”

At these words the king of Circassia and Rinaldo attacked one another with all their force, one fighting on foot, the other on horseback.  You need not, however, suppose that the Saracen king found any advantage in this; for a young page, unused to horsemanship, could not have failed more completely to manage Bayard than did this accomplished knight.  The faithful animal loved his master too well to injure him, and refused his aid as well as his obedience to the hand of Sacripant, who could strike but ineffectual blows,