lasted more than five hours, and dawn began to be visible, when the
Tartar king, furious to find so much trouble given him, dealt his enemy a
blow sharp and violent beyond conception. It cut the shield in two, as
if it had been a cheesecake; and though blood could not be drawn from
Orlando, because he was fated, it shook and bruised him, as if it had
started every joint in his body.

His body only, however; not a particle of his soul. So dreadful was the
blow which the Paladin gave in return, that not only shield, but every
bit of mail on the body of Agrican, was broken in pieces, and three of
his left ribs cut asunder.

The Tartar, roaring like a lion, raised his sword with still greater
vehemence than before, and dealt a blow on the Paladin's helmet, such as
he had never yet received from mortal man. For a moment it took away his
senses. His sight failed; his ears tinkled; his frightened horse turned
about to fly; and he was falling from the saddle, when the very action
of falling jerked his head upwards, and with the jerk he regained his
recollection.

"O my God!" thought he, "what a shame is this! how shall I ever again
dare to face Angelica! I have been fighting, hour after hour, with this
man, and he is but one, and I call myself Orlando. If the combat last
any longer, I will bury myself in a monastery, and never look on sword
again."

Orlando muttered with his lips closed and his teeth ground together; and
you might have thought that fire instead of breath came out of his nose
and mouth. He raised his sword Durindana with both his hands, and sent
it down so tremendously on Agrican's left shoulder, that it cut through