Subject: Get a Spectacular Bottle Transported to your Mail

From: Spectacular Bottle <[email-masked]>
Date: Fri, 20 Apr 2012 08:16:16 +0000

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The younger lady replied, in a voice often broken with sobs:

"Though I know well that my recital will subject me to worse treatment
by the barbarous man who keeps me here, to whom this woman will not
fail to report it, yet I will not hide from you the facts. Ah! why
should I fear his rage? If he should take my life, I know not what
better boon than death I can ask.

"My name is Isabella. I am the daughter of the king of Galicia, or
rather I should say misfortune and grief are my parents. Young, rich,
modest, and of tranquil temper, all things appeared to combine to
render my lot happy. Alas! I see myself to-day poor, humbled,
miserable, and destined perhaps to yet further afflictions. It is a
year since, my father having given notice that he would open the lists
for a tournament at Bayonne, a great number of chevaliers from all
Marseilles, and she held the post against the infidels with valor and
discretion. One day Melissa suddenly presented herself before her.
Anticipating her questions, she said, "Fear not for Rogero; he lives,
and is as ever true to you; but he has lost his liberty. The fell
enchanter has again succeeded in making him a prisoner. If you would
deliver him, mount your horse and follow me." She told her in what
manner Atlantes had deceived Rogero, in deluding his eyes with the
phantom of herself in peril. "Such," she continued, "will be his arts
in your own case, if you penetrate the forest and approach that castle.
You will think you behold Rogero, when, in fact, you see only the
enchanter himself. Be not deceived, plunge your sword into his body,
and trust me when I tell you that, in slaying him, you will restore not
only Rogero, but with him many of the bravest knights of France, whom
the wizard's arts have withdrawn from the camp of their sovereign."

accepted the terms, and proposed that they should at once repair to the
abbey of Vallombrosa, whose towers were visible at no great distance.
Thither they turned their horses' heads, and we will leave them to find
their way without our company.

I know not if my readers recollect that at the moment when Rogero had
just delivered Angelica from the voracious Orc that scornful beauty
placed her ring in her mouth, and vanished out of sight. At the same
time the Hippogriff shook off his bridle, soared away, and flew to
rejoin his former master, very naturally returning to his accustomed
stable. Here Astolpho found him, to his very great delight. He knew the
animal's powers, having seen Rogero ride him, and he longed to fly
abroad over all the earth, and see various nations and peoples from his
airy course. He had heard Logestilla's directions how to guide the
animal, and saw her fit a bridle to his head. He therefore was able,
time of attachment and fidelity rare in the history of man. Cloridan
and Medoro had followed their prince, Dardinel, to the wars of France.
Cloridan, a bold huntsman, combined strength with activity. Medoro was
a mere youth, his cheeks yet fair and blooming. Of all the Saracens, no
one united so much grace and beauty. His light hair was set off by his
black and sparkling eyes. The two friends were together on guard at the
rampart. About midnight they gazed on the scene in deep dejection.
Medoro, with tears in his eyes, spoke of the good prince Dardinel, and
could not endure the thought that his body should be cast out on the
plain, deprived of funeral honors. "O my friend," said he, "must then
the body of our prince be the prey of wolves and ravens? Alas! when I
remember how he loved me, I feel that if I should sacrifice my life to
do him honor, I should not do more than my duty. I wish, dear friend,
to seek out his body on the battlefield, and give it burial, and I hope
to be able to pass through King Charles's camp without discovery, as
rich palace, built of marble, and adorned with sculptures executed by a
master hand. Into this edifice, through a golden door, the giant
passed, and Rogero followed; but, on looking round, saw nowhere either
the giant or Bradamante. He ran from room to room, calling aloud on his
cowardly foe to turn and meet him; but got no response, nor caught
another glimpse of the giant or his prey. In his vain pursuit he met,
without knowing them, Ferrau, Florismart, King Gradasso, Orlando, and
many others, all of whom had been entrapped like himself into this
enchanted castle. It was a new stratagem of the magician Atlantes to
draw Rogero into his power, and to secure also those who might by any
chance endanger his safety. What Rogero had taken for Bradamante was a
mere phantom. That charming lady was far away, full of anxiety for her
Rogero, whose coming she had long expected.

The Emperor had committed to her charge the city and garrison of