Chapter 14

CHAPTER XIV.
ZERBINO AND ISABELLA. ZERBINO'S pain at seeing the Tartar prince go off with the sword
surpassed the anguish of his wound; but now the loss of blood so
reduced his strength, that he could not move from where he fell.
Isabella, not knowing whither to resort for help, could only bemoan
him, and chide her cruel fate. Zerbino said, "If I could but leave
thee, my best beloved, in some secure abode, it would not distress
me to die; but to abandon thee so, without protection, is sad indeed."
She replied, "Think not to leave me, dearest; our souls shall not be
parted; this sword will give me the means to follow thee." Zerbino's
last words implored her to banish such a thought, but live, and be
true to his memory. Isabella promised, with many tears, to be faithful
to him so long as life should last.
When he ceased to breathe, Isabella's cries resounded through the
forest, and reached the ears of a reverend hermit, who hastened to the
spot. He soothed and calmed her, urging those consolations which the
word of God supplies; and at last brought her to wish for nothing else
but to devote herself for the rest of life wholly to religion.
As she could not bear the thoughts of leaving her dead lord
abandoned, the body was, by the good hermit's aid, placed upon the
horse, and taken to the nearest inhabited place, where a chest was
made for it, suitable to be carried with them on their way. The
hermit's plan was to escort his charge to a monastery, not many
days' journey distant, where Isabella resolved to spend the
remainder of her life. Thus they travelled day after day, choosing the
most retired ways, for the country was full of armed men. One day a
cavalier met them, and barred their way. It was no other than
Rodomont, king of Algiers, who had just left the camp of Agramant,
full of indignation for a fancied wrong received from that leader.
At sight of the lovely lady and her reverend attendant, with their
horse laden with a burden draped with black, he asked the meaning of
their journey. Isabella told him her affliction, and her resolution to
renounce the world and devote herself to religion, and to the memory
of the friend she had lost. Rodomont laughed scornfully at this, and
told her that her project was absurd; that charms like hers were meant
to be enjoyed, not buried, and that he himself would more than make
amends for her dead lover. The monk, who promptly interposed to rebuke
this impious talk, was commanded to hold his peace; and still
persisting, was seized by the knight and hurled over the edge of the
cliff, where he fell into the sea, and was drowned.
Rodomont, when he had got rid of the hermit, again applied to the
sad lady, heartless with affright, and, in the language used by