“And what has Gan been plotting with Marsilius?” inquired Malagigi; “and what is to come of it?”

“I know not,” said the devil.  “I was not attending to Gan at the time, and we fallen spirits know not the future.  All I discern is that by the signs and comets in the heavens something dreadful is about to happen—­something very strange, treacherous, and bloody; and that Gan has a seat ready prepared for him in hell.”

“Within three days,” cried the enchanter, loudly, “bring Rinaldo and Ricciardetto into the pass of Ronces-Valles.  Do it, and I hereby undertake to summon thee no more.”

“Suppose they will not trust themselves with me?” said the spirit.

“Enter Rinaldo’s horse, and bring him, whether he trust thee or not.”

“It shall be done,” returned the demon.

There was an earthquake, and Ashtaroth disappeared.

Marsilius now made his first movement towards the destruction of Orlando, by sending before him his vassal, King Blanchardin, with his presents of wines and other luxuries.  The temperate but courteous hero took them in good part, and distributed them as the traitor wished; and then Blanchardin, on pretence of going forward to salute Charlemagne, returned, and put himself at the head of the second army, which was the post assigned him by his liege-lord.  King Falseron, whose son Orlando had slain in battle, headed the first army, and King Balugante the third.  Marsilius made a speech to them, in which he let them into his design, and concluded by recommending to their good will the son of his friend Gan, whom they would know by the vest he had sent him, and who was the only soul amongst the Christian they were to spare.

This son of Gan, meanwhile, and several of the paladins, who distrusted the misbelievers, and were anxious at all events to be with Orlando, had joined the hero in the fatal valley; so that the little Christian host, considering the tremendous valor of their lord and his friends, were not to be sold for nothing.  Rinaldo, alas! the second thunderbolt of Christendom, was destined not to be there in time to meet the issue.  The paladins in vain begged Orlando to be on his guard against treachery, and send for a more numerous body of men.  The great heart of the Champion of the Faith was unwilling to harbor suspicion as long as he could help it.  He refused to summon aid which might be superfluous; neither would he do anything but what his liege-lord had directed.  And yet he could not wholly repress a misgiving.  A shadow had fallen on his heart, great and cheerful as it was.  The anticipations of his friends disturbed him, in spite of the face with which he met them.  Perhaps by a certain foresight he felt his death approaching; but he felt bound not to encourage the impression.  Besides, time pressed; the moment of the looked-for tribute was at hand, and little combinations of circumstances determine often the greatest events.