among the knights and dames as the bride of Prince Marinell. Even Marinell himself, suddenly entering, started back in amaze at beholding the false Florimel, knowing well he had just left his lovely wife in an inner hall.
But Athegall, the knight of Britomart, who was present to grace the tourney with brave deeds, cried out that this was no true lady, and no mate for Florimel.
“In proof of which,” he cried, “I challenge that Florimel herself be brought forth and set beside this other.”
Upon this they brought. forth the true Florimel adorned with all modest graces, the roses interlacing with lilies in her fair face. Her they placed beside the waxen figure “like a true saint beside an image set,” and all at once the enchanted damsel vanished, as a snow-wreath melteth into air, leaving nothing behind but the magic girdle of Florimel, which she had always borne about with her.
Then once more the charmed zone was fitted about its mistress’ waist, where it clung as if it would never part from it more.
And thus, as glorious day succeeds thick and gloomy night, did the troubled fortunes of Florimel give way to an unclouded wedded life whose happiness was unsurpassed in song or story.
