Issuing thence again, the frantic Orlando gave chase to whatever living thing he saw, whether men or animals.  Sometimes he pursued the deer and hind, sometimes he attacked bears and wolves, and with his naked hands killed and tore them, and devoured their flesh.

Thus he wandered, from place to place, through France, imperilling his life a thousand ways, yet always preserved by some mysterious providence from a fatal result.  But here we leave Orlando for a time, that we may record what befell Zerbino and Isabella after their parting with him.

The prince and his fair bride waited, by Orlando’s request, near the scene of the battle for three days, that, if Mandricardo should return, they might inform him where Orlando would give him another meeting.  At the end of that time their anxiety to know the issue led them to follow Orlando’s traces, which led them at last to the wood where the trees were inscribed with the names of Angelica and Medoro.  They remarked how all these inscriptions were defaced, and how the grotto was disordered, and the fountain clogged with rubbish.  But that which surprised them and distressed them most of all was to find on the grass the cuirass of Orlando, and not far from it his helmet, the same which the renowned Almontes once wore.

Hearing a horse neigh in the forest, Zerbino turned his eyes in that direction, and saw Brigliadoro, with the bridle yet hanging at the saddle-bow.  He looked round for Durindana, and found that famous sword, without the scabbard, lying on the grass.  He saw also the fragments of Orlando’s other arms and clothing scattered on all sides over the plain.

Zerbino and Isabella stood in astonishment and grief, not knowing what to think, but little imagining the true cause.  If they had found any marks of blood on the arms or on the fragments of the clothing, they would have supposed him slain, but there were none.  While they were in this painful uncertainty they saw a young peasant approach.  He, not yet recovered from the terror of the scene, which he had witnessed from the top of a rock, told them the whole of the sad events.

Zerbino, with his eyes full of tears, carefully collected all the scattered arms.  Isabella also dismounted to aid him in the sad duty.  When they had collected all the pieces of that rich armor they hung them like a trophy on a pine; and to prevent their being violated by any passers-by, Zerbino inscribed on the bark this caution:  “These are the arms of the Paladin Orlando.”

Having finished this pious work, he remounted his horse, and just then a knight rode up, and requested Zerbino to tell him the meaning of the trophy.  The prince related the facts as they had happened; and Mandricardo, for it was that Saracen knight, full of joy, rushed forward, and seized the sword, saying, “No one can censure me for what I do; this sword is mine; I can take my own wherever I find it.  It is plain that Orlando, not daring to defend it against me, has counterfeited madness to excuse him in surrendering it.”