Beadle's New York Dime Library (no. 73) (1879 07 30)
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{ j ‘ eM lai Two Weeks, Knights of the Red Cross: oR, The Magician of Granada. A TALE OF THE ALHAMBRA. BY DR. J. H. ROBINSON, AUTHOR oF ‘‘ PATAHWAY,” “‘ NIGHTSHADE,” “‘ WHITE- LAW,” “‘ HIRL, THE HUNCHBACK,’’ ‘* HYDRABAD,”’ ETC., ETC., ETC, CHAPTER I. THE RED CROSS AND THE SLEEPING LEOPARD. A CAVALIER, mounted on a superb Andalusian horse, slowly ascended the steep and rugged side of one of the many hills or mountains commanding a view of Granada. The Alhambra had not yet fallen, and the warlike and rapacious Moor still retained a foothold in Spain. When the horseman reached the summit of the hill, the beams of the sinking sun lay like wefts of gold on turret and tower, stretching along the plains below, and oe peaks of the Sierra as far as the eye could see. e contemplated, from his lofty height, the ancient and renowned palace of the Moorish kings with wonder and admira- tion. It was some time before he recovered from the trance of surprise produced by the sudden revela- tion of a scene so grand, romantic and magnificent. The cavalier, incased in steel, armed with lance and sword, bearing his shield upon his arm, and TS * Published Every Geadle §¢ Adams, Publishers, 98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., July 30th, 1879. ls ta ah f = veeeeet® SSS ae Oy oe ek i | HN t 3 A b> oR ~ a A Al ENTERED AT THE Post Orrick AT New York, N. Y., AS Seconp Crass MATTER, Ten Cents a Copy. $2.50 a Year. No. 1 3 sitting firmly and gracefully his noble steed, was an object not unworthy the bright glances of dame and damsel, and lady-love. He was not indebted for his manly .prestige to the richness of. his knightly har- ness, which was plain and massive rather than fretted with ornament and art, but to the command- ing proportions and symmetry of his person. Both shield and helmet bore marks of recent encounters with enemies or daring trials of knightly prowess. He wore over his armor a surcoat or ta’ rad of simple cloth, on the left shoulder of which a red cross was inwrought, and the same sacred symbol appeared on the backs of his heavy gauntlets. His open visor revealed a countenance neither parean nor Moorish, but English, in its unmistak- able signs of nationality. It was a brave and hand- some face, though somewhat troubled in expression, and e, probably from travel and fatigue. iile he was gazing at the Alhambra with the in- terest which the scene was calculated to inspire, a figure emerged from some clustering vines at his left, and stood waiting, manifestly, to be noticed. It wasa swarthy yeu, about seventeen years of age, clad in the garb of the Moorish civsreeary fe After waiting patiently some moments without being discovered, with his foot he spun a loose stone down the de- clivity of the mountain. The knight grasped the pommel of his sword and turned sharply toward the Yipee but, perceiving he had nothing to apprehend, relinquished his hold upon the weapon, and asked with some sternness: ‘** What seek you, sirrah?” ** Nothing that I have not found; and that, I doubt not, is more than you can say,” answered the youth, com reggie by the haughty air of the Christian cnight. “Speak not too pertly, young infidel, or perchance you may get a taste of the handle of my lance; for, though I may not turn its point against one of your degree, knightly usage does not hinder me from giving you a sturdy whack or two across the shoulders,” returned the cavalier. “ Knightly usage I care little about; and, as for the blows, you may take all yourself, and welcome; and if I am any judge of such matters, you have received more than a dozen lusty thwacks since you came to the mountains, and are likely to get as many more before you get out of them)” said the Moor, in an unconcerned and easy manner. “You are a saucy varlet,” said he of the Red Cross, “but not wanting in quickness. What is your name, young whelp of Islam?” ** Ahab,” responded the youth, carelessly. “Ahab, at your 1ighness’ service; sometimes dubbed Ahab the Witty.’ ‘*TIf you are witty, God save the dullones! But witty or not, your service I will cheerfully accept, if you will guide me to yonder palace of the Moorish ng. ‘““T could guide your godship there, but a hundred Ahabs, be they never so witty, would not have wit enough to bring you away alive. The heads of Franks are very much wanted at Granada jusi now.” “Mind not my danger, young Ahab, and play me no false tricks; for be it known to you, in con- fidence, that I have knocked two treacherous guides on the head this very day. I cracked their skulls as though they had been eggshells.” ‘‘T’ll take care that you crack not mine; for if my wit fail me, my heels will not. However, to speak you fairly, my Christian guide-slayer, it is farther to yon- der palace than you wot of; for see you not that a val- ley, deep and intricate, lies between you and it, while WITH A MUTTERED CURSE THE OLD MAN DROVE IT INTO HAMET’S BOSOM.
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= neither you nor your fine steed are in condi- | tion to travel sotar. Yet, if you insist, 1 will | run before you like a staghound, till some gallant Moorish knight meets and serves you as you served those same unlucky guides. “Give me as little of your wit as may be, and as much of yeur legs as possible ; for, to tell the truth, I think the last better than the first, and more likely to do you good serv- ' ice.” “Come on, your godship,” said Ahab, turn- ing his back to the knight, and taking a bri- dle-path leading down the mountain. “Hark’e, youth! If you mislead me, it will be at your peril, for neither your nimble wit nor your nimble legs will save you. am the bearer of importznt dispatches from King Ferdinané to Muley Aben Hassan, King of Granada, and in this business I will brook no trifling.” “Fear not! I will guide you, in the name of the Prophet. Or, stay; perhaps it would be better to give me those dispatches, and let me run on with them, while you turn loose our horse, and amuse yourself with a night's odging on the ground, thinking of the eyes | of your lady-love. It is said to be miglity fine pastime to wander about among the rocks and howl verses in the praise of some adora- able she.” “Tf I do not drub thee before we part, it | will be for no lack of provocation,” replied | the knight, his grave lips parting in a slight smile. “If you would allow me to be so bold, you come not with such state as is the fashion of | embassadors to the grim old King?” said the presuming Ahab. * A most wise and sagacious conclusion! | Know then, Ahab the Witty, that I have been attacked in the mountains, my retinue | dispersed, and the real Embassador, my com- panion-in-arms, Don Juan de Vera, mortally wounded.” “In consequence of which,” added Ahab, with easy impudence, “you took his ais- patches and kept on, thinking to discharge your duty like a true knight, and enter Gra- nada at every risk.” “Now, by St. Jago, thou art over bold! Yet I should heed not the wagging of such a tongue as thine.” The knight relapsed into silence, and Ahab trotted before him with agile steps. The sun declined from sight, and the mountains and the vega below lay pale in mist and shadow. He was threading his way as fast as his weary steed could travel, when Ahab made a sudden stop. On looking for the cause of this interruption, he beleld, | sitting statue-like upon a richly-caparisoned | horse, a knight of the most imposing and goodly appearance. His steel armor g)vam- ed in the darkness like the shimmering rays of the moon. The hilt of his sword fisshed with diamonds and precious stones. A sur- coat of golden cloth drooped from his shoul- ders, sweeping in glittering folds to the horse’s back and flanks. This garment, like his sword, was bestudded with diamonds and pearls of great size and beauty. On the left shoulder of this emblazoned surcoat was a black crescent, which, wrought on a ground of gold, produced an effect alike graceful and striking, while on his embossed shield © was the figure of a sleeping leopard. On account of the darkness, the Knight of the Red Cross could not read the line that was inscribed beneath the significant device. The cavalier’s visor was closed, and he had no opporunity of seeing the features of one whose prestige was so knightly and resplen- dent. The magnificence of his appointments was not limited to his person, but extended to the bardings of his horse and to the bridle, which was fretted with gems, setting off the noble animal as a crown graces the head ot a beautiful woman. His long lance, which was in keeping with his rare seeming, was laid in rest, and he observed the approach of = the stranger-knight with courtly composure. | « | plume in his helmet nearly touched the neck . but such as 1 can command I most willingly “Chivalry forbid that I should forego so | fair an apportunity !” replied the other. “I thank you heartily for the honor you offer me. Iwill also be more communicative than yourself. I am an English knight in the serv- ice of Spain. I am called Raoul Mornay, and am on my way to Granada to seek au- dience with the King, having important mat- ters to lay before him. The reason why you see me without proper state and attendance is, that we fell into an ambuscade on the road, and so roughly handled by overpower- ing numbers, that I only of the whole retinue was able to escape and pursue the enterprise. I have no right to lay my lance in rest tor mine own honor and glory, till my business is dispatched with Muley Aben Hassan, Kin of Granada. That duty discharged, I wil meet you right joyfully, for the sake of ladies fair and the honor of such an encounter.” “ Your courtesy, Sir Raoul, I take in good part ; and to show you that Tam not ignor- ant of knightly usage, I will conduct you to a place of rest and shelter, where you may refiesh yourself and steed till morning, when you shall go on your way with safe attend- ance, with thé compact to’ meet me at such time and place as shall be agreed upon, to try our mutual prowess in mortal combat,”’ answered the Moor, with dignity. “Courtly infidel, your magnanimity pleases me! I accept your conditions, and will ac- company you wherever it may be your pleas- ure, satisfied that a cavalier so courtly in speech and. so brave ia attire will fulfill to the letter his promises.” Sir Raoul Mornay bowed till ‘the dark of his steed, which courtesy was returned by the Moorish knight by a slight inclination of the body. “This matter being settled, we will speak of it no more for the present. Follow me.” The Knight of the Sleeping Leopard touch- ed his horse gently with his heel, and, turn- ing, struck offin the direction contrary to that which Sir Raoul had been pursuing. The latter followed him across an irregular ra- vine, and finally ascended a lofty spur of the Alpuxarras—a chain of mountains abound- ing with castles and watch-towers, often the resort of outlaws and predatory bands of lawless adventurers. <Aiter a slow and difli- cult assent, attended with much winding and some danger, they reached the summit, which stretched out in a plateau of some ex- tent, in the centre of which Sir Raoul beheld the weather-beaten walls of an ancient edi- fice, which served not only the purpose of a fortress, but as a place of habitation. Ahab, who had continued to run before the cavaliers, ran and blew a horn that was sus- pended to the wall surrounding the tower, ree a heavy gate was opened, and the oorish knight entered the court, closely fol- lowed by Sir Raoul. The gate was then tine and secured by a bolt and chain. ismounting, their horses were given in charge of grooms. «“ This,” said the Moor, pointing to the cas- tle a castle it seemed), “is called the Ver- milion Tower. I cannot give you the enter- taintnent befitting a knight of your valor, lace at your disposal. While you remain ere, consider this poor castle your own.” An aged servitor I igo the cumbersome door of the tower, Which grated _dismally on its hinges, and admitted the Knight of the Leopard and his chivalrous foeman, who paused on the trodden threshold, and said : “ One warning, Sir Raoul Mornay, I must give you. You will see in this castle a maiden fairer than the lily and sweeter than the rose. Let not your eyes be dazzled, nor our heart captivated. She is not of your faith. Seek her not. Address her in all knightly courtesy ; but let your thoughts lay upon you no romantic tricks, nor your | fon ination indulge in impossible dreams.” oud infidel,” answered Sir Raoul, Never was there more gallant sight for the gomewhat piqued, “I am an English knight eye of dame or mistress. . Reining up his steed, he of the Red Cross demanded his name and purpose. “The first,” answered the cavalier, cour- | teously, “I may not give; but the second, I | willingly answer. Iseein you, Sir Knight, | an enemy of my faith and country. I trust | we meet as brave men should, unless you can | show good cause for foregoing the pleasure y of breaking a lance and trying the ternper of Moorish steel.” ntleman! I have looked often _— fair ladies. 1 have seen the beauties of ngland, the warm-hearted damsels of Spain, the starry-eyed daughters of the Moslem, and my heart is yet free. I have broken many a stout ashen lance for love of the sex, but never one for any single name. The divinity is yet to be seen that has power to anquish the heart of Raoul Mornay. Fear not, haughty son of Islam, that I shall forget | what is due to worthy foe and lady fair.” \ and a loya The Knights of the Red Cross. “'Trust not too much to thine own invul- nerability,” answered the Moor. “ A breast- plate of steel cannot always resist the soft glances of gentle-eyed girls. Mounted on thy good steed, I doubt not thou wouldst do thy devoir to the admiration of all beholders ; but in lady’s bower, wounds are given that no leech can heal.” They were now in an ante-room, the walls of which were hung with shields and Moor- ish swords and cimetars curiously wrought. Beside these were many other devices calcu- lated to remind one of the field and the fray. By the light of a brazen lamp, Sir Raoul was enabled to see the features of his courtly | host, for he had taken off his heimet on enter- ing the tower. His face was youthful in appearance, imperious in its expression, yet handsome. Light chestnut hair hung in curl- ing love-locks about his cheeks and neck. His lips were firm, and manifestly more wont to exact obedience than to render it. The interest of the English knight in his chivalric enemy momentarily increased ; his enemy, because the armies of Ferdinand were already afield, and the stern old King of Granada had struck the first blow by the destruction of a town and the seizure of a for- tress. He was impressed with the deference with which a servitor approached to disen- cumber him of his armor, and the grace with which, by a slight gesture, he signified that his guest should be first lightened of the weight of steel in which he was incased. Relieved of this burden, he was ushered by his entertainer into another apartment, where there were such a number and variety of gar- ments, and so rich withal, that Sir Raoul’s curiosity was still more strongly appealed to. “Do me the honor, brave Frank, to choose from my poor wardrobe such apparel as may serve your needs while at the Vermilion Tower,” said the Knight of the Sleeping Leopard. “lt would be churlish, noble Sir, to refuse anything from one whom, I am sure, is as brave in the tented field as he is hospitable in his castle,” replied Mornay. The Moor smiled; a smile so sweet and sad that it could not but attract the notice of the knight. “T am certain, Christian cavalier, that if your hand be equal to your speech, I shall be vanquished.” He paused and sighed heavily. “You see nothing here,” he added; “ all is gone. Judge not my condition by these sur- roundings. ‘The time has been”—he stopped again—* but it is folly to speak of that which has departed. You see before you one with- out name or prestige. This castle is scarcely habitable for any but soldiers; but the one of whom I have spoken is compelled by circum- stances to accept any refuge, however unde- sirable. You well know the customs of the Moors in regard to their women ; but as much from necessity as from a desire to do you cour- tesy, I deviate somewhat from the usages of our peopte. Follow me.” To say that Mornay was not affected by this discourse, would not be truth. He followed his conductor, his thoughts about equally divid- ed between curiosity and inerediflity. Tray- ersing a cheerless hall, they ascended to the upper part of the tower. Mornay was ushered into an apartment in which there were strik-— ing evidences of luxury and taste, in sinyu- lar contrast with the sternness and grimness of the place. It was lighted by a silver lamp, that emitted a pleasant perfume as it burned. In this bower, as the knight anticipated, was seated a lady, whose wonderful perfections of form and feature instantly made him torget- ful of every other object. The Moor stood a moment in silence, as if to enjoy his surprise and confusion. “ This,” he said, presently, “is the lady I spoke of.” Turning toward her, he added - “Leoline, this is an English knight, who, for _ a few hours, will be our guest. Pardon me for bringing him hither unannounced. He is brave, and, like every true knight, the sluve of your sex.” By this time, the Moorish maiden had aris- en, evidently not .. cll please | with the liber- ty which had been taken; her attitude was both haughey and graceful. So overpower- ing was her beauty, that Mornay remained mute and motionless, without the power to summon immediately to his aid those gallant words which never before failed to come at his wish. The Moor stepped quickly to her side, took |
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her hand respectfully and tenderly, and said, in a sad soothing voice : ‘‘ Nay, sweet sister, be not vexed! These Franks think it not unseemly to see maideng unvailed, and it is the custom of their country to meet fair ladies at all places.” Then to Sir Raoul, who was beginning te collect his senses: “Sir Knight, is it not true that you do not cage your women ?” “It is most true,” replied Mornay, bowing ; and my astonishment did not arise from the mere novely of seeing one of your sex, but from another cause, which I dare not name. Permit me, fair lady, if my presence be un- welcome, to make my profoundest obeisance and withdraw.” “A guest brought by my brother ought not to be unwelcome,” she answered, in a voice that was the soul of music, and thrilled him like the spell of an Eastern enchantress. “The manners of ‘ g country shall be re- spected by me, for | have heard that your la- dies are highly privileged as well as fair !” She resumed her seat with inimitable grace ; while Mornay, true to the principles of chivalry, which inculcated, among its first and most essential elements, devotion to woman, remained standing, with an air of re- spect as deep and apparent as if rendered to a crowned queen. Leoline pointed to @ seat, and Mornay, again bowing, accepted it. “I have done the English knight this | grace,” said the Moor, “ because he has hon- ored me with his knightly word to trv the strength of ashen Jance and Moorish blade as soon as he shall have transacted certain busi- ness at the Alhambra, and returned again to this tower.” ‘The rose-tinted cheeks of Leoline grew pale. “Dear brother, what need? what need ?” she said, quickly. “ Ifhe be brave and cour- teous, meet as friends and brothers, and not as foes. I have lost all but you. On what arm could I lean should you fall ?” “Lady,” interposed Mornay, “ distress not yourself on his accourt. If Providence gives me the victory, 1 beg to assure you that—” “No more, no more!” cried he of the Leopard. “I shall take it ill if you complete that sentence ; for I should hold myself dis- graced, if 1 undertook the combat with a | pledge of safety in my ears. 1 want no pass- port to immunity from personal danger. I can keep me with my lance and good sword. Believe not that the mistaken fear of my sis- ter can in the least affec’ my compact. Know, proud Christian, that Abdallah, the | Moor, is not ignorant of the usages of knight- errantry ; and that while courteous to a foe, he foregoes no plighted word or previous en- gagement.” ornay glanced at Leoline. The pallidness of her face had given place to a vermilion flush. Her humid eyes, large and eloquent, beamed with tenderness; they looked from beneath the exquisite lashes ii gazing trom Heaven. Her lips, her chin, with its dimples, her snowy teeth, her an- gelic expression; her brow, inimitably arched, whiterand clearer than alabaster ; her | round and drooping shoulders ; her arms, her bewitching hands, the divine symmetry of | her shape ; and, in brief, her whole person, was so perfect in its parts, so transcendent in its loveliness, that the Knight of the Red Cross became unconscious of himself, his pride, his | aspirations, and lived, for the moment, only in her. Ardently he longed for an opportun- ity to show his devotion to such a creature. e would have deemed it no desecration, no affront to God, to kneel at her feet as at a shrine, and reverently kiss the little foot that | peeped from beneath her soft and fleecy drap- ery—drapery that enwrapped a form that seemed too celestial for earth. All his dreams of dame, and damsel, and lady-love were im- measurably surpassed by this living and pres- ent reality. He breathed hard; he continu- ally changed color; he moved uneasily upon his seat; he stole covert glances at her inef- fable eyes, and experienced such a tumult within that he had ditliculty in concealing his emotions. ‘The Moor, he thought, observed his trepi- dations, and he was sure a frown rested upon his brow. A Leoline, at first, with maiden timidity, did not raise her eyes to his face, but by-and-by began to regard more particalarly. Raoul Mornay, being gifted by nature, was not of a cast to offend the gaze of woman, though she were ever so fastidious in her The Knigh ts of the Red Cross. 3 ke twin-stars | ideas of manly endowments. Forgetting the novelty of her position, she began to converse as freely as her educational prejudices would permit, but with an indescribable air of dig- nity and condescension that not only sur- prised him, but enhanced the witchery of her | presence. When, anon, she rose to with- draw, Mornay had no heart of his own! | CHAPTER IL ABADDON. Raoul Mornay was conducted to one of the turrets of the tower by the Moorish knight. The apartment in which he found himself | had been occupied in times of danger by men-at-arms. any evidences of the uses of the place still remained. “Tt is a rough lodging that I offer you,” said Abdallah, “and falls far short of your merits. Yonder couch you may perchance | find hard, but of late i have slept soundly on worse. Should you need attendance, strike the bell hanging near that embrasure, with | the martel that lies near it.” “T have often cast myself upon the ground in my armor, and slept soundly,” replied Mornay. “ I have long inured myself to hard- ship, and can, without complaint, forego the luxuries of life.” Abdallah lighted a lamp, and was with- | drawing, but paused at the door, and looking ae epee at the Knight of the Red Cross, | asked : “What think you, Sir Raoul, of my sister ?” | The knight’s face flushed to his brow. | “That she outshines every star of beauty that it has been my fortune to see!” he an- swered, with more earnestness, than he in- _ tended. “ By this sacred cross,” he touched the handle of his sword, “I aflirm, and will make good good the aflirmation on foot or on horseback, that she is the fairest creature that man ever looked on! This Idare assert, and will maintain.” “Your views have changed ina manner little short of miraculous! 1 should be want- | ing in candor if 1 did not warn you to keep | your thoughts from playing truant with your _ judgment. She is a pearl not to be had for | the asking, nor to be worn by one of common | degree. Her faith is not thine; and thou wilt not soon become an apostate !” The Knight of the Leopard pronounced these words in a fashion observably dignified and earnest, then with a stately parting salu- tation, passed from the turret, leaving Mor- _ may in an eddy of doubt, love, and wonder. Instead of divesting himself of apparel, and courting the pillow and sleep, he paced the watch-tower with nervous trepidation, think- ing of the superb vision that had dawned like @ sun upon his senses. Her heavenly eyes, her darkly-arched brows, mouth, her matchless nag her unap- proachable grace, faithfully remembered, filled him with emotions impossible to de scribe. He forgot the history of her people; | he forgot the dark Prophet; he forgot the re- | proach that rested on the vengeful Moslem ; | he forgot his mission ; he forgot the conquer- ing banners of Spain, and was conscious of Leoline only. Her name was softest music, her recalled idea both delight and torture. _ For the first time in his life, he felt the con- quering power of woman, and as he paced to and fro, renewed his vows of fealty to the sweet sex. So lost was he in absorbing medi- tations, that he scarcely noticed the entrance of Ahab the Witty, bearing a tray laden with | refreshments. It was not till the Moorish _ youth addressed him that he deigned to pause and give him attention. “ ‘ood and wine for the Frank,” said Ahab. _“ May his godship enjoy it to the satisfaction of his stomach and the joy of his palate.” “ Thou here?” said Mornay. “Why not?” quoth Ahab, coolly, placing the tray ona table. “I am not scarce any- _where. Nobody marvels at seeing me. My wit and my legs find me strange companion- ship. Iam at present thy serving-man.” “A thing I did not know of,” replied Sir Raoul, dryly. “Be good enough to inform me, Ahab, who made thee my servant?” “ Who should it be but myself?” returned the youth. “Ihave taken upon me that of- fice ; and by the aid of the Prophet and other araie gods, I mean to discharge the trust With all acceptance.” “ They have strange ways of doing things, methinks, within the bounds of Granada.” “Some persons,” returned Ahab, “do as her peerless | | they like, and some do not; but it is all the same !” “ You are of the first, I suppose ?” answered Mornay. “ Your godship is right! And belonging to that favored class, | can say things witn immense confidence. I shall serve you very faithfully, always being ready to consult my pleasure first and yours afterward.” Ahab arranged the contents of the tray without once condescending to notice his _hew master, or appearing in the least doubt- _ ful of his position. “I had supposed,” said Mornay, “that the | master usually chooses the servant instead of the servant the master.” “A common error!” quoth Ahab. are not the first that has tallen into it.” “| am most happy to be enlightened in a manner so convincing.” “ No happier, my master, than your servant. | But let your godship waste no words. Sit | down and fall to. WhatI bring is simple, but it will renew the strength.” Sir Raoul, who had béen ravenously hun- gry a short time before, was now compara- tively without appetite, his mind perti- naciously feeding on the charms of Leoline, the Moorish maiden. He sat down at the table, and began to question Ahab, but not in a fashion to evade his penetrating percep- tions. He endeavored to extract some in- formation concerning her rank and present position, but the replies of the youth were vague and unsatisfactory; or, if they pro- duced any impression, enhanced the myster with which she was already invested. Find- ing he could extort nothing definite from Ahab, he signified his desire to be relieved of his company. “Certainly, my master! I'll leave you, but will be near if you should want me. It | is all the same!” Left to himself, Mornay tried to sleep, but tossed restlessly upon the couch. The fatigues of travel and battle could not so far overpower him as to make him forget Leo- line. It was in vain that he struggled against this new invader ; it was in vain that he en- _deavored to fix his mind on the enterprise before him ; it was in vain that he recalled the thought of other fair ones; it was in vain | he looked for that mental shield of strength | that he had so recently boasted of; it was in vain that he resorted to every device of an inventive imagination ; Leoline was before him in whatever direction. he turned his eyes. Leo!ine was in his brain, in his breast, in his thoughts, in his aspirations. In short, Leoline drifted continually in and out of his fancies, assuming a thousand pleasing shapes, till he was ready to believe himself the sub- ject of magic arts. The watch-tower took on the aspect of a diviner’s laboratory ; and as if to carry out /and fulfill the conception to the letter, the | door opened, and the diviner himself appear- _ed, to the unspeakable astonishment of Sir Raoul. The person who entered was an old man, with flowing silver locks that reached to his shoulders, imparting a look exceeding- iv venerable. He wore a loose black robe, at fell quite to his feet, which were shod with sandals. His eyes were blue, his _ features noble rather than otherwise, and his expression that of grave and thoughtful melancholy. He carried under his arm a | large, antique volume, closed with a broad iron clasp; while in the other hand he held a stait or rod, engraved with curious charac- ters. He was followed by a boy about twelve | years old, bearing quaint and mystic instru- meats, together with a small astrolabe, and an extraordinary lamp in the form of a coiled serpent, with jets of flame streaming from the eyes. This singular conceit aided not a lit- tle to deepen the impression of the visitation in the mind of Mornay, who was so much amazed at the spectacle, that he lay like one | paralyzed, motionless, and speechless. : The magician, for such indeed he seemed, . advanced to the table with slow and measured steps, his mind abstracted, appar- ently, from every object but his occult occu- pations. Seating himself, he opened the an- tique volume, and placed it carefully on the table ; while the lad, with the utmost rever- ence, arranged what he had brought within his reach. The old man made some signs, | Muttered unintelligibly, bent his head three times with solemnity, then read a few para- | graphs from the book, in a strange tongue. “ You
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4 «Zegrim,” he said, anon, looking at the boy, “ art afraid ?” ‘he magician’s voice was clear and im- oressive. The boy made a submissive bow, and an- swered : “ Great master, my heart is not strong, but I will abide the result.” “Child, nothing shall harm thee! Trust inme. Trust in my art. Trust in my con- trol over the elements of mid-air and the ele- ments of mother-earth. Trust in the Sacred Circle, the muttered invocation, and the potent prayer. Bare thine arm, and give me some drops of thy blood.” Zegrim held forth his arm ; the magician made a slight puncture with the point ot his dagger, and caught the red stream that began to tlow, in a vessel. When he had procured enough for his purpose, he staunched the diminutive wound, and continued his prep- arations, unconscious, to all appearance, that a third party was present, noting his movements. Into the crucible’ containing the blood he | poured an amber-colored liquid from a vial, after which he added some small resinous | balls. the fiery jets of the serpent’s eyes, and ig- nited the mixture, which burned with a green flame, emitting a pungent odor. “ Art strong, Zegrim ?” he asked. “ Master,” replied the boy, with a genu- | flection of the body, “Iam weak. I shrink from the dread mysteries of the cabala.” “ Zegrim, swaliow this !” He gave the boy a green paste from a sil- ver box. “ Dread master, thy slave does thy behest,” answered Zegrim, and swallowed the paste. “Thou shalt presently be strong. This asta contains the very essence of life. It imparts the wisdom of Mohammed and the joy of the seventh heaven. It is the Gate of aradise.. Enter! What thou seest do not fear.” “Great Abaddon, I hear but to obey! Thine art has given me wings. Already I have supernatural sight. Forms begin to flit; shapes come forth in shadow.” | At that moment.a strong light appeared at the highest window of the watch-tower, ] where the watcher was wont to stand when waiting the approach or movements of an | enemy. Mornay could not see whether there was really anything there, but the illumina- | tion continued some moments. “Zegrim, tell me of the Spaniard and his aggressions. Will the Alhambra fall? Will the refusal of the fierce old King to render the degrading tribute of sixteen hundred cap- tive Christians, or in lieu of them, the same number of Moors, to be reduced to the con- dition of slaves, and two thousand pistoles of ld, call out in full strength the armies of ing Ferdinand ?” Sir Raoul heard these questions with in- tense curiosity. that yonder spirit of air”—he pointed to the window—“ cannot, through me, But I am bidden not to speak. Ask some- thing else, O Abaddon! Nay, pause. not. See you, we are not alone. An un- believer is listening ; a Frank and an enemy. Turn your eyes and discover him.” “T did feel his presence, but attributed it to another cause. I will not turn my head to see a score of Christians ! Unbeliever, what wouldst thou here? Answer truly or not at all; for to Abaddon, the magician, no one may safely lie.” “ By my knightly honor, and by the love I bear to lady bright, 1 swear | have a mind te punish thy audacity!” exclaimed Mornay, arising. “You forget that you address an English knight, who brooks no insolence from mountebanks and itinerant magicians.” “Zegrim, who is this irreverent dog? How long ere Muley Aben Hassan will have his head y” “Sovereign Lord, I may not lie to one who commandeth the spirits of air, the spirits of mother earth. This is an English knight, who seeks honor and glory under the banners of Spain. He is on the way to the Alham- bra. Two accidents have betallen him : one, an ambuscade ; the other, love.” The anger of Mornay subsided in a mo- ment. ‘Tue two truths that Zegrim had ut- tered were so pertinent and undeniable, that astonishment took the place of indignation. “ What means this mummery ?” he asked, This done, he heated an iron rod in | but be perceptible. “A lady, fair as heaven's brightest star, sweeter than the breath of roses, haunts the heart of the Frank,” answered Zegrim, in a low and musical voice. “If L admitted this silly tale, and should ask you, most perspicacious youth, how the adventure would speed, what answer wouldst make ?” “ Ask and see,” said Zegrim. “ Consider that I have.” “Then I reply that many obstacles stand OSS. SSE RS carn ence yen eer nae mo tape | ‘give you no advantage over me. in your way; but your wishes, though diffi- | cult of attainment, may not be utterly futile. There is one condition on which you may obtain the hand of the Moorish beauty,” re- sponded the youth. “ Name it!” said Mornay, quickly. The magician arose and drew a circle around Zegrim, murmured a few words close to his ear, touched his lips with his rod, and said : “Zegrim, answer the Christian knight!” “Great master, I hasten to obey! Find the apartment where your entertainer sleeps, and stab him to the heart!” answered the boy. “By St. Jago! your impudence exceeds belief! Never heard I aught so base as this. There is more danger that I shall crop your ears, or throw you from the battlements of the tower, than that I should perform an act so unworthy of the spurs [ wear. You and your sage master mistake English honor.” The Knight of the Red Cross frowned and | grasped his sword by the scabbard, half in- clined to beat the youth with it. “ But thou art but a child in the hands of a vile mountebank.”’ Then, to Abaddon, who maintained his composure in a remark- able manner: “Take up the implements of thy jugglery, and go hence !” “ Listen, proud knight, to what the youth may yet say,” he said, tranquilly. “You did not entirely comprehend me,” added the boy. His calmness equaled that of his master. ‘I mean, that while the Knight of the Sleeping Leopard lives, you cannot receive the hand of the fair lady, Leoline.” “If he lives till be die of false and traitor- ous act of mine, he will remain on earth till | the end of time,” answered Sir Raoul, with a contemptuous glance at the magician. “A fortune is once offered to every man ; yours is now within your reach; _ let it elude you, and it is lost forever!” continued Ze- rim, looking steadily into the face of Abad- on, without displaying the least emotion or change of countenance. Mornay could not but regard these two unequally-mated beings with interest. How the boy had obtained his knowledge respect- ing his state of feeling toward tohon he was at a loss toimagine; yet he had touched, with singular adroitness, a chord that vibrat- ed within him most sensitively. What meant _ this intrusion and infamous proposition ? “ Wise Abaddon, you have asked nothing | answer. | Query | “'lhat fortune can never be desirable that is purchased at the price of knightly taith. I never meet foeman, save with lance and sword, battle-axe and martel. I kneel at the feet of a lady with my hands stained with a mean and ingilorious action.” Then, directing his discourse particularly to Abaddon: “I have heard the mummery of this youth long enough for my pleasure. I would now fain have a taste of your own wis- dom. You seem, in truth, a magician.” Abaddon gave the boy a small bolus from another box; he swallowed it submissively, and with a sigh and a shudder returned, ap- parently, to his normal condition. “Where are those same spirits of air and of nether earth that you were going to sum- mon before you? Give me proof of your Never would | sworn by his beard and the bones of the Prophet, that he will deliver no more Moors to be mace slaves in tribute to King Ferdi- nand, according to the usage of his prede- cessor.” ‘The concluding remarks were not without effect upon Raoul Mornay. He paused a moment, and answered : “ How you learned the nature of my jour- ney to the Alhambra I know not; but it shall W hether my mission fail or succeed, it shall be faith- fully performed.” “You push from you the open hands of fame, and turn blindiy from the flowery path- way of successful love. So be it! Allah judge between us! It was but a cut and a | thrust; a turning aside of a little current o/ blood. The hour is passing. ‘The invisible horologe of fate is ticking away the oppor- tunity lorever. Decide, and quickly!” “With me, old man, it is a decision. fore- gone. A Knight of the Red Cross spurns such temptations with unutterable contempt! lar better to perish, piecemeal, of wasting love, than obtain happiness in the perfidious manner youmean. Away, dSir,away! Your | hairs are gray and your aspect venerable. IL would respect age, but I held treachery ih inexpressible abhorrence !” “'Phe clock of destiny has ticked the last instant of your opportunity,” replied the magician, arising with much dignity. “"u a phantom ot honor you have sacrificed what you adore. We shall meet again; it is so written, and what is written must be fulfilled. The stars, the occult elements, and the leaves of destiny, cannot lie. It is well, haughty Christian! You may break lances; but know that your own heart will break, if you be not more than human. Farewell! till our life-lines again cross each other.” Abaddon took up his book, Zegrim gather- ed up the implements he had brought, and holding aloft the serpent-lamp, followed his master reverently from the watch-tower. CHAPTER IIL. A SURPRISE. Raoul Mornay witnessed the departure of his strange visitors with varied emotions. Full of thought, he retired to a window com- manding, in a clear day, a vast extent of country, now shrouded by the curtain of night. He looked down upon the court, and the wall, and the silent sentry-boxes perched upon it. While thus gazing, strains of deli- cious music were wafied to his ears. His in- stincts at once assured him who was the singer. He leaned from the battlements with fluttering eagerness, in an earnest endeayor to distinguish the burden of the song; but could only learn that it was in the Moorish tongue. lis heart swelled within him, and his chi- valric nature confessed the power of woman. He mentally vowed to perform deeds that should render him worthy of winning ner favor. As he looked at the scene beneath, objects grew more defined, and he presently discern- ed figures moving lightly and stealthily to and fro outside the wall. What these move- ments portended, he knew not ; but the sing- ing having ceased, he gave his entire atten- tion to them. Anon, scaling-ladders were placed against the wall, and about a dozen armed men mounted and dropped noiselessly into the court. Sir Raoul now began to apprehend that this boded no good, and had an appearance of mischief calculated to arouse weil-ground- ed suspicions of treachery. He could see the | glitter of their weapons as they crouched on the earth, with their faces to the tower. vaunted power,” said Sir Raoul, with a wad ' the whole transaction plainly indicated that sneer. “ Whatever my art can do, I need not call before me the swift and subtle inhabitants of air or earth, to tell thee enough to indicate the way to future greatness. I perceive by that inspiration of wisdom that often possesses my aged frame, that three passions will much affect thy life and fortune. One has the pow- er to bestow riches and honor; another, love and beauty; the third, disappointment and misery. N ow, if the last should meet with his death ’tween this and the rising of the sun, your advancement is sure, both in arms and love. Nay, bend not thy brows on me, for I speak truly. As for thy mission to the King of Granada, I predict its utter failure. It is reported that Muley Aben Hassan has Soon, one detached himself from the party to reconnoitre. The secrecy and silence of this was a visit unexpected by the inmates. He was on the point ot descending to inform Abdallah of what was occurring, when Ahab the Witty came in unbidden, with a step somewhat quicker than usual. “I have not called,” said Mornay, coldly. “Tt is all the same; I can come just as well without calling. Does your worship like a bout now and then? If so, take your sword and come with me,” answered Ahab. “To what purpose? I would know thy meaning better,” said Sir Raoul. “ While I ary ce explain, the mischief will be done, the Lady Leoline carried off, and her brother murdered,” added Ahab, with marvelous serenity.
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eee The Knights of the Red Cross. 5 “Why saidst thou not this before !” cried Mornay, snatching his sword from the table. “ Lead on, boy ; and if thou liest, I’ll cleave thy head from thy shoulders at a single stroke. Hasten—run—fly !” “Too much haste, your godship, is some- times as dangerous as too much delay.” “Do not trifle with my impatience, for I am not wont to be over tender with the fro- | composure. ward and self-willed. Have a care of your neck.” “ My neck has but one bone in it, and m head will remain upon it as long as Alla pleases; if, however, it should chance to tumble off, I shall goto the Paradise of the Prophet, and solace myself with black-eyed houris. So you see I have every reason to be indifferent about the time of my death. Life has a great many conveniences, and we are not certain that death has any. Besides, Il owe the man-at-arms, Kalif, two pistoles, which I should get rid of paying if I should happen to be cut into two pieces.” “The devil take thee and thy pistoles,” ex- claimed the knight. ‘“ Give me more of thy legs and less of thy tongue.” “Silence is necessary in this adventure, therefore your worship will please observe it after we are on the way.” Mornay looked again from the window and saw the armed men gliding toward the tower. He unsheathed his sword, and turned fierce- ly upon Ahab, who, with a lamp in his hand, began to move. He preceded the knight down the stairs, at the foot of which hung from a hook a Moorish cimetar, which he buckled to his side. “Where sleeps the lady?” demanded Sir Raoul, eagerly. “Thou’lt tind out soon enough, I'll war- rant ; for, by Allah, a maiden will scream so when there's danger, that you may hear her a mile oft.” “Provoking dog!” muttered Mornay. “ Conduct me to Abdallah.” “Thou are going to him as fast as is pru- dent. It’s a poor firelock that goes off of it- self. Never fear that I'll give your godskip plenty of work. And you shall see me shear- ing heads, too, as if they were onions; and the blood shail flow as though we were stab- bing wine-sacks.” “Not so fast as thy heels will go, saucy Ahab” “'lhat will be as heaven wills. I shall run if it is so written, and I shall fight if it is so recorded, and it will make no manner of difference. If I should be chopped up, have the hier gc collected and cast into the river Zenil, that i may serve, when dead, to feed the fishes, which fed me while living. It will be all the same!” At that moment Sir Raoul heard piercing screams and the clashing of arms, and ran toward the sounds with the swiftness of an arrow. Ahab kept at his heels. When he reached the apartment where he had seen Leoline, he found Abdallah defending himself | against three men, who pressed upon him fiercely ; while three others had seized the lady, and were leading her away in spite of her struggles. Maddened by the spectacle, he attacked them with great impeiuosity. He cleft the sxull of one, lopped an arm from another, and his tried Toledo blade swept the head of the third from his shoulders. Seizing the nearly fainting Leoline and placing her upon a divan, he hastened to the aid of Abdallah, and perceived, to his aston- | ishment, that Ahab had already disabled one — of the assailants, and was in a fair way to do the same service for another. But, mean- time, the remaining six had come in, so that now there were eight opposed to three, and one of the three a mere youth. It was a proud moment for the Knight of the Red Cross. The eyes of lady bright were on him. He was doing battle in the presence and for the safety of the most beautiful maid- en in the world. TNe thought inspired him with the strength of Hercules. All the chiy- | alry in his nature was awakened. He glow- | ed with knightly fervor. He threw himself | against the Moors, and they bit the dust. His sword gleamed like lightning. No hand could | parry his thrusts or evade his blows. In a few moments, with the aid of Abdallah and the strange youth, Ahab, Mma i Was won, and the Vermilion Tower was in their undis- | puted possession. CHAPTER IV. THE FAVOR OF LADY. Both Mornay and Abdallah stood grim and panting, leaning on their bloody swords. Ahab, only, maintained his coolness and He contemplated the dead and wounded as if such sanguinary deeds had been his business from childhood. “It was decreed,” quoth he, “that we should smite them.” Then to Raoul. “ Your worship has done wonders this night, but you could never have dispatched this bus- | ness without me.” “ Let these carcases be removed,” said Ab- | dallah. A groom and two servitors now ventured tu appear, and hastened to obey this order. Abdallah turned to Mornay. “ Knight of the Red Cross,” he said, “thou | hast proved thy title to thy spurs in a man- ner no noble gentleman can gainsay. With- out the aid of thy doughty arm, I should be now but a dead man, and yonder fair mid a ah prisoner, reserved for what sufferings Al only knows. White-headed sage and wise astrologer predicted, long ago, that my life was dangerous to the safety of Granada, in consequence of which I have been sorely be- set by one in power, on whose kindness I have some claim. I may not yet divulge my secret ; but the man who calls himself Ab- dallah offers thee the hand of friendship.” “It is accepted, gallant Moor. I have but now seen thee do brave work. Thou art skillful in the use of that Damascus blade. It descends as swiftly on the foe as the fire of heaven discharged from a cloud. Thou shouldst receive the accolade from King Fer- dinand himself; for I swear thou art worthy !” _ Abdallah smiled, and lifted himself haugh- tily. “T like not thy master,” he answered ; “ he is brave and wise, but crafty and cruel. He keeps not faith with the Moor.” “Thou art wrong,” said Mornay. “It is the Moor that regards not treaties, and repu- diates solemn compacts. Is not the annual tribute of sixteen hundred slaves and two thousand pistoles withheld, though often de- manded ?” “It was a most infamous treaty !” exclaim- ed Abdallah, earnestly. “Who would con- demn young girls and tender youth to per- petual bondage in the Land of the Cross, remorse? I appeal to thee, Sir Raoul Mor- nay, if it be just; if it be humane; if it ought longer to be borne ?” “Courteous Moslem, thou askest a hard eae of one whose sword and lance are evoted to Spain; but if I must answer, nothing but the truth shall pass my lips. I do hold that the agreement was disgraceful to those who acceded to it. I maintain that the conquered had not sufficient regard for their own honor, and that the conqueror ex- acted ungenerous terms.” “Sir Raoul, thou speakest well! I have great respect for thy integrity. But of these subjects we will not discourse. ‘The time is past when I could mend or make in this mat- ter. Let us atterd to my unfortunate sister.” “She is very well,” said Ahab, “and her bright eyes were on you both whilé you dealt with these traitors.” The manly cheeks of Raoul flushed with pleasure. : “It is not strange that we gained the vic- tory,” he said. “The presence and danger of a lady so lovely would nerve the weakest arm to deeds of high emprise.” “Thou art as ready with thy speech as with thy sword. Come and receive her thanks.” Abdallah took his hand and led him to Leoline. “Sister,” said the Moor, “behold your brave defender. But for his invincible arm, our most unnatural foe would have prevail- ed. I should have perished, and you have been conveyed you know whither, to suffer _ you know not what. Sister, what a misfor- tune it is to be born unlucky! They have done well who called me El Zogoybi, or the unfortunate.” Leoline, who was greatly agitate], arose from her recumbent position with some em- barrassment, and disengaging a red scarf from her person, presented it to Sir Raoul, who, dropping upon one knee, received it in the most reverent manner. “Fairest of ladies,” he said, in a subdued voice, “I accept this as a most precious git! ' much feeling. 4 ] : /serve neither praise nor blame. without lamentations and tears and undying | P Not all the treasures of earth and sea would possess the value in my eyes of this favor. I will wear it in the hour of battle and danger. It shall go to the field where lances are brok- en. It shall flutter in the fierce career, and, | by the ye of God, come safely from the deadly shock of opposing arms. It shall ad- monish me at all times of my fealty to ladies bright and chivalric actions.” “Your tongue is agile,” interposed Abdal- lah. “ Your courtly phrases far surpass my poor ability. Arise, and cease to pour forth these fine things. No one can doubt your courage, and when next you gallop to the tented field, no prouder favor will flutter on the breast of gallant cavalier. Arise, and consider thyself fortunate.” Then to Leoline: “Thou art royal in thy gifts. Sir Raoul will be the most envied knight in Granada.” “The poor gift of an ell of cashmere but ill requites the high deserts ef this English, knight. He has done his devoir right well this night ; and I thank him for life and lib- erty preserved,” answered Leoline, with hu- mid eyes. “ Name it not, lady! The consciousness of having served you gives mea pleasure that more rewards me. I swear by the holy cross, emblem of my faith, that esteem my- self most lucky. With this precious token” —he knotted it over his shoulder—“ TI shall undertake any adventure, however hazard- ous, assured of victory.” “ You could spare it better than sword or lance,” said Ahab. “For my part, I should infinitely rather have something more sub- stantial ; for instance, something that I could eat and drink, or that would keep me warm, or to fight with. This may answer with belted knights, godships, and worships, and other kind of ships; but it never will do for Ahab the Witty, and the hungry.” That melancholy smile which Mornay had more than once observed, flitted over the lips of Abdallah. He looked kindly, too, at the youth, much to the astonishment of Sir Raoul, who had anticipated that he would be | Severely rebuked for his familiarity. “This is an eccentric lad,” said the latter. “TI expected that he would run away at the ‘first meeting of steel; but he displayed as much courage of his inches as any of us.” “I fought because it was wriiten. I de- Nothing happens by accident. Had it been decreed that I should run, I should quickly have found the use of my heels. It is all the same !”* “You have a philosopher in your house- hold,” said Mornay, smiling. “Philosophers, like poets, are philosophers born. Ahab had his own way and his own wit, and is often useful, and on this account enjoys peculiar privileges. Remain here, Sir Raoul, while I go to make some observa- tions without. I can no longer feel secure in this old fortress, for my enemy is not of a disposition to allow me the least immunity from danger, after having learned my hiding- place. e are fugitives and wanderers, with the curse of a terrible prediction upon us. Alas! whither shall we direct our persecut- ed footsteps? Where shall we find safety and secrecy? What cavern is deep enough to hide the luckless Abdallah ?” The Moor pronounced these words with Leoline was deeply affected. “ Be not disheartened,” she said, in a tender voice. “Heaven will find some way. of re- lief. You will yet be restored to yo Call to your soul that dignity and firmness which the occasion requires. \ Courage, Vigi- lance, and cunning, united, may yet extricate us from these difficulties. Go and attend to your duties, and let your brave friend accom- pany you to aid you by his advice and ready discernment. Look from the battlements to see if other enemies approach. See that none lurk within the precincis of the tower. Search every nook large enough to conceal an assassin. I make noi these suggestions so much for myself as for you; you who are destined to a name and place in the history of Granada. If it be needful, my brother, fly and leave me. M‘y life is but of smal wortu and consequence whea weighed in tlie bal- auce with yours.” “Incomparable sister, you bring me toa sense Of my Own manhood. I wiil bear in mind who and wiat I am. As {or the curse of hoary soothsayers, I will endeayor to regard it as the shallowest device oi knayes
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6 The Knights of the Red Cross. oon OT _ ESE SIEM On ror rs : | and mountebanks. When I fly from thee to save life or liberty, may Allah fly from me!” responded Abdallah, with more dignity and feeling than he had yet manifested. “Come, Sir Raoul,” he added, “let us at- tend to the seasonable suggestions of my sis- ter. If there are no enemies in sight by morning, we may, 1 think, remain here till [ can find a safer retreat.” | “If you take my advice, you will not so much as move a finger,’ said Ahab, “ for, everything having been determined before- hand, you can neither mend nor make by anything you can do. If the stars doom you to the dagger, to the dagger you will go, fly in what direction you may. It is impossible for one to die till the very hour and instant of his time arrives. Go and throw yourself headlong from the watch-tower, and, my word for it, you will jump up as blithe as a cricket if your stars haven’t marked that day as your last. All events should be looked at with the greatest indifference. Let come what will, it is all the same!” CHAPTER V. SIR RAOUL KEEPS WATCH AND WARD. An anxious day followed at the Vermilion Tower. Nothing transpired to disturb their tranquillity or excite additional anxiety. As soon as night came on, Raoul Mornay se- - cretly stationed himself in the court, in full | armor, with visor down, and his good sword by his side. Abdallah had pressed upon him the necessity of rest, believing that his two | servitors and the groom, with an occasional vigil of his own, would be suflicient to in- sure them against another surprise. While the Moor supposed Mornay in the watch- tower reposing, he was walking silently to and fro beneath Leoline’s window, listening to every sound ; intent on the discharge of a trust which, it seemed to him, Heaven had imposed. In this pleasing employment, which ac- corded so well with his fancy and ambition, | he dwelt on the charms of the Moorish lady, sighing. now and then, that she was of a dif- ferent taith, and loved the Crescent better than the Cross. In the midst of such reflections, his heart was thrilled with tender sentiments | by the sound of her voice gushing from the window above ina bird-like melody. On this | occasion he was able to distinguish the words. The song was a plaintive ballad, an echo of her present state of mind. The Knight of the Red Cross was ray- ished with the softness and sweetness of her voice, and stood like an efligy of steel till the strain ceased. He pressed’ her scart to his breast with his mailed hand, and swore eternal fealty to the Lady Leoline, notwithstanding the mystery that at present enshrouded her, and perplexed him. firmation of this vow, he drew forth his sword and kissed the hilt, which was in) the form of the sacred cross. The plates of steel upon him seemed to lose their | weight. Animated by devotion, he went his rounds with a lightness and elasticity that surprised himseit. vered by him, as a true knight, was now exalted, through Leoline, into a creation of poetry and perfection. saint, and willingly yielded her the most precious incense of his soul. He was in this rapture of high enthu- siasm, when Ahab the Witty came, most inopportunely, to interrupt his ecstatic rey- ery. ‘The knight received him with a stermmess that did not invite confidence. ~ “Your worship,” quoth Ahab, “ it appears to me, has all that iron and steel, which, it is my belief, would grieve the back of a horse.” Sir Raoul deigned no reply, but kept on his round. “ Having chosen you as my master, I shall serve you whether you will or no_ It is all | the same! My wit tells me that you will re- ceive a great many hard thumps, and arrive | at the distinguished honor of being thanked by great people for foolishly exposing your eter life for them. As for myself, I ad rather any time have doubloons than | knocks; but, being nothing but Ahab the Witty, nothing better can be expected of | me.” “Thou art privileged,” said Mornay. “One has tolerated thee whom I much revere.” “Lam miserably ignorant,” returned Ahab ; “but it is my belief that my ignorance is bet- ‘ter than your wisdom. Now, if you should In cone | Woman, always re- | He had found his | great pleasure in carrying about | | ask your new servant some questions that are uppermost in your mind, who knows but he would answer them?” Ahab paused ; sodid Mornay. They stood confronting each other, @ most marked con- trast} the one gleaming and towering in steel, the other of diminished stature, clad in simple Moorish costume, with a curved sword girt at his youthful waist—the one a Goliah, the other a David. For the first time, Sir Raoul was fully sensible.of the singular qualities of this unique youth. He was so impressed by the discovery of his originality, that he wondered he had not bestowed more notice on him. “ Who knows but he would answer them 2?” he mentally repeated. Now there certainly were some queries in Mornay’s mind that could. give them a solution. He had enter- tained doubts of Ahab, and he was not yet free of them; but the youth held out a bait that he could not resist. He resolved to test him somewhat. “ Prithee, what should I care to know that thou canst answer ?” , “That your worship should best under- stand. Remember that 1 am but Ahab the Witty ; and it is folly tor the wittiest person in the world to ask questions and answer them himself,” replied Abab, with compos- ure. “How know you, if I were to accept your challenge, but 1 might ask the names and condition of those within this tower?” “ Who knows ?” echoed Ahab, coolly. “ Thou art a most provoking varlet! Solve me the question.” “Then it 1s a question, your godship ?” “ It is.” “Inform me, Sir Knight, why I should | favor you with information withheld by the | one called Abdallah ?” “If thou comest to trifle with me, begone !”” “Such is not my errand. I came to prove my devotion to you, my master. But it you | care not to hear me, it is all the same. A thing that isn’t to be won’t be.” “In Heaven’s name, have thine own way ! Tell what thou will in thine own time and manner. Thou hast the cunning of the devil | and the obstinacy of a mule.” “T tell thee again, it is all the same. Lis- ten! Listen to this wisdom of Ahab the | Witty.” Ahab tucked up his cimetar, and seated himself comfortably on the ground, quite un- | disturbed by the curiosity and impatience he _ had excited. | “Know, Sir Knight of those same and several red crosses which you seem to have great pride in, that you are actually and verily, duly and truly, and perpendicularly, standing beneath the window of a princess.” * Now, saucy knave, thou tamperest with me!” said Mornay, angrily. “ Whether you believe or not, it 1s all the same. It was written that | should reveal it, and that you should disbelieve it. It does not trouble me. I never was troubled. I never shall be troubled. Your incredulity does not affect the truth in the least. The lady is a princess; her brother a prince. She is the daughter of a king; he is the son of a king.” Ahab crossed his legs, and looked up from his lowliness like a pigmy at a giant. “TI know not whether to trust the tale,” said Sir Raoul, duliously. “Tt is all ene, and of the same significance. We believe and think nothing of our own wills,” replied the Witty. “ What king?” asked Mornay. “Muley Aben Hassan,” answered Ahab. The knight was silent some time. He struggled with astonishment and unbelief. “This, then, is that unfortunate prince, Boabdil ?” “ The identical ! He could not be more & is sister is as much of a princess asif all the ueens in the world had assisted at her birth. ou may have heard, perchance, the tale of their escape from the Alhambra.” but never, till now, knew that a sister fled with him,” said Mornay. | “Having seen her with your own eyes, you cannot doubt it. If she be not fair _ enough for a princess, I would advise you to F clap that hundred-weight of iron upop your ) horse, and go where you may light on 4 | fairer. he would willingly propose to any one who | nei if a dozen kings were his father. And | zi f tl ‘ Boabdil ; | ; Lhave heard of the escape of "quicker they are cut the better. I do not “She is fair enough for a queen or an an- gel!” replied the knight, enthusiastically. “T see in what quarter sets the wind, your worship. You will break some five hundred lances if you live long enough, and your heart into the bargain, for that identical she. For my part, I never could see the difference between a princess and @ woman—ever woman being some man’s princess, though he be as humble as a water-carrier. Maidens of every degree love and hate precisely alike ; and if I were going to marry to-mor- row, I don’t think I would hit on a princess. Now, my master, when you run at another infatuated gentleman with a pole ten feet long thrust over your horse’s head, have some little care of your own body, that you do not get spitted likea barnyard fowl. Once run through the body, I see no possible good that lady’s favor can do you. That pretty little rag around you, for instance, could no more stop a. hole in your chest than the mountain could come to Mohammed. Accord- ing to my taste, I had rather have a kiss than a knock on the head. <A kiss is a kiss, and it’s no better, and you are no better for bein battered and bruised before you get it. If loved a princess, I should say to her, ‘ Marry me, my handsome, and I'll make you happier than any king in the world can.’” | “ill I have asked your opinion, witty Ahab, you would do well not to give it. You have natural good parts, however, and a deal of malapertness. Now, run and mount yon- der wall, and take a apo look.” Ahab placed a ladder against the wall, and mounted it deliberately, agreeably to his style of doing things. He returned, after having made the entire circumference of the tower. - “ Hast seen anything ?” asked the knight. “Much,” said Ahab. “ What?” “The mountains lying in the faint moon- light; and groups of trees in pale shadow ; and the heavens over my head ; and the wall on which I stood; and your godship boxed up in steel, pacing to and fro like an owl; and the watch-tower, looming darkly ; and—” “No more of thy wit, an thou lovest ease and freedom trom distress! If this was all ou saw, have done with jesting. Broken ones oft come of folly.” “Tt is all the same! ’Fore God, I saw no more than what I have told you.” “Go again on the same errand.” Ahab obeyed as quietly as before, and came back with a similar report. “ Go yet again,” said Mornay. The third time he returned as slowly as at first, seated himself on the ground, and wait- ed to be questioned. “What saw you this time?” asked the knight. “ All that I saw before,” answered Ahab. “ And no more ?” “T said not so, my master. You will find on subjecting me to strict examination, that i made an additional discovery.” “Well, knave ?” “ Well, your godship ?” Sir Raoul groaned with vexation. “Art ill, my master? If so, I will run and fetch some physic. Ill be bound the Princess knows a thing or two of simples, and could, in case of extremity, dress a fiea- bite or pull out the sting of a bee,” said Ahab, with aggravating serenity. “Tell me what more you saw, you gadfly !” cried Mornay, whose patience was taxed to such a degree that he had hard work to keep from giving the youth a hearty drubbing. “Since your worship comes to the point, I saw some thirty horsemen toiling up the mountain; but be assured, most valorous knight, that they can never get to the top of it unless it be the will of God.” “Imp of Satan!” exclaimed Mornay, in a rage. “Why withhold so long such an im- portant discovery ?” “ How often have I told you, my master, that nothing can be that is not to be. It is _ probably decreed that they shall climb the mountain and cut our throats. But it is all the same! If our throats are to be cut, the advise that we stir an inch.” “ May the devil take your stoicism! Run at once and inform Boabdil what you have seen, and I will meanwhile, take a look at a Se ind ‘ ornay ascended to the of the wall and turned his gaze at osc th mountain.
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: The Knights of the Red Cross. 4 ‘No suspicious object or objects were visible. | «In God’s name, help me to arise!” he | privilege of saying if he would be cursed or He tried his eyes from different quarters. At first he could see the dim skies meeting the | earth within the short area, but as his sight grew more familiar with the landmarks, trees, shrubs, and vines grew out of the mist- iness, and his vision took a more expansive range. A slight shimmer in the mild moon- light, like the dancing of the firefly, finally drew his attention, then the shields of armed men gradually became defined, and admitted no Jonge of uncertainty. By dint of looking, Sir Raoul perceived that the party had stopped, and were hud- dled closely together, as if in consultation, or to present as small an object to the eye as possible. While he was considering this — ominous appearance, a voice from the outer side of the wall addressed him. It was the magician, Abaddon, who spoke. Casting his regards downward, Sir Raoul beheld him leaning on his rod, somewhat bent, like a man bowed by the weight of years, his lon white hair fluttering over his grave an ag face. “Sir Knight,” he said, “I have consulted the spirits that. rule the hour, and they speak not in thy favor.” “That disturbs me not,” replied Mornay. “Knowing thy duty, thou art lingering over long near the bower of lady fair,” re- turned Abaddon, “It concerns not thee, old man. Go thy way with thy mummery, or I may see fit. to detain thee,” said Raoul, in a menacing voice, “ What wearest thou on thy breast?” in- ferrogated the magician, preserving his equanimity. “I know not that I should tell thee. Be- gone, juggler! We have no need of thy pre- tentious art. Our fortunes come fast enough, without the aid of the oecult sciences.” “I told thee that thine hour had passed ; but let down that ladder, and give me a lift over the wall, and I will tell thee that which may still be to thy worldly emolument.” “ Art thou armed ?” “Yes, with dagger, with my book of the occult art; while my lad bears an astrolabe and various instruments of the nature thou hast already seen. I am about to try a new and abstruse, and withal critical, conjuration, which, in order to insure its success,, must take place at a certain distance from the earth ; therefore, I pray thee, give me and feet access to the watch-tower, which is well adapted to my pur . Gratify the whim of an old man, and t am sure thou wilt be rewarded by the Prophet.” “Tt is a time of danger to those within, besides, I remember your mummery of last night, and like thee not. Go at once, or I will send those that will drive thee hence.” “Threaten not,” answered the old man, solemnly, “those who interpret the decrees of heaven. Vaunt not thyself in thy strength, for I know that there are few within the walls to do thy bidding. But receive not this as menace. I will give thee handsome gute of gold, of which I have great store ; or you must know that I have accomplished the mystery of projection, and can transmute at pleasure.” 2 _ “Speak not of bribes to a belted knight! I would not admit thee for a camel-load of gold! Were it not for thy hairs, I would punish thee for thy base lures and rons of yesternight.” 4 ngneyc Ea you shall yet feel the power of Abaddon, the Magician !” The old man raised his rod, and a conceal- ed marksman discharged a matchlock, and Mornay received a shock upon his breast- plate that hurled him from the top of the wall to the ground, where he lay, quite deprived of motion and sense. Boabdil, as we shall now call him, haying taken an observation from the watch-tower after receiving the information from Ahab, reached the court in time to hear the report of a matchlock, and see Mornay topple from the wall. Telling Ahab to attend to the knight, Boabdil ran swiftly to the top of the wall and dro down upon. the outer side. Ahab raised Mornay and unciosed his helmet. The air revived, him, for happily his mail of proof had effectually resisted the ball fr the weapon. i The furious ringing and clashing of good _steel blades, reac his ears. Unable to arise, he, listened, to what was, obviously, a sharp, fierce contlict. /made a said to Ahab. “ My friend is in danger.” “ You are little short of that yourself. Worry not, I beseech you. The Prince can- not be slain if his time is not come. Nor have you wind enough to go to his aid. If you be not dead, it was because it was impos- sible to kill you. Jf an armorer’s workshop had fallen from the wall, with all its imple- ments and handicraft, it could not have reater clatter than your worship made in this identical tumble.” While the Witty was talking, he helped the knight to get upon his feet, who, though bruised by the fall, was in no other way in- jured. The angry clashing of steel had now ceased. Sir Raoul mvuunted the ladder, and looking down, discovered Boabdil, leaning upon his cimetar, with a ghastly pallor upon his countenance. CHAPTER VL IT 18 ALL THE SAME. Sir Raoul was surprised at Boabdil’s agita- tion. Thinking he was hurt, perhaps mor- y wounded, he began to question hing, but he made no answer. “Ts your worship blind ?” said Ahab, “that | you do not perceive that he presents not the appearance of one wounded with steel, but of something sharper. It is a shock of the mind, my master.” Abab drew up the ladder and placed it on the other side of the wall, that Boabdil might ascend; who, after standing a long time, came up, his face yet exceedingly pale. “Where is your adversary? Surely, I heard the dangerous play of steel. hou seemest in greai perplexity,” said Mornay. “‘ Question me not, brave follower of the cross. That which has happened I may not tell thee. Ihave escaped a peril greater than that which threatens life alone. 1 have not been yanquished by the sword of my enemy ; and yet there was a dreadful danger which, had it not been providentially discovered, would have filled my after-life with remorse and horror,” answered Boabdil, with much solemnity of manner. “T saw no one save the old man, Abaddon, the Magician, who seemed an inmate of the tower last night,” returned Sir Raoul. “ He performed, in my presence, various juggler- ies, and had the audacity to make a proposi- tion so base, that had it not been for his age and weakness, would have met with prompt chastisement.” “By the bones of Mohammed! Sayest thou so?” cried Boabdil. ‘“ How gained he admission ?” “1 know not. I supposed him, at first, a member of your household ; afterward, that he was one affected in his understanding ; loatly a dangerous fanatic.” dil, manifestly astonished and excited by Sir ul’s announcement. ‘“ What might have been the nature of his proposal ?” he added, with emotiom. “No less than your foul murder, with a promise of great emoluments and honors, and more than I will mention.” Boabdil covered his face with his hands; his feelings overpowered him; his person shook with the intensity of his mysterious sor- row. “El Zogoybi!” he muttered. “ Accursed be those who cast my horoscope !” “T believe not in the arts of the astrologer or the devices of the magician,” said Mor- nay. “ It is affirmed,” answered Boabdil, impres- sively, “that those who consulted the stars at my birth were filled with fear and trembling when they read their direful language.” wane” tick of impostors!” returaed Sir “Not so, Christian knight. Everything that has happened has confirmed the truth of their predictions,” sadly answered Boabdil. “TI know not but I esteem the occult sci- ences too lightly ; yet in my judgment the prophecy has been the father to itself, and roduced the very misfortunes it augured.” Boabdil shook his head mournfally. “The curse of Heaven is on me!” he mur- mured. «Tt is all the same,” interposed Ahab. “If one is cursed by heayen, it is because the | will of heaven must be done, and the case is no more his fault than his birth. No one has | big had the privilege of saying if he would born or no; neither has any oue had the his is indeed a revelation!” said Boab- | 'no. Therefore, as I said, it is all the same.” “The fellow is not without reason,” mused Boabdil. “There is plausibility in his speech, But I have indulged too long in this weak- ness. What seem those horsemen to. be doing now ?” «“ They have dismounted near that cluster of trees, yonder, if I have any wit, and are partaking of refreshment. May their food stick in their throats! May the water they drink drown them! But if neither come to | pass. it is all the same !” This was the wisdom of Ahab, the son of nobody that anybody knew anything about, and caused the Knight of the Red Cross to smile, notwithstanding his bruises and the danger which threatened the mistress of his heart. “TI know too well the errand of yonder horsemen,” said Boabdil. “It is me they seek. It were better perhaps that I go forth and offer them the life so earnestly sought.” His voice was strangely sweet and melan- choly. 7 4 swear by my linightly vows,” cried Mornay, lifting his mailed hand on high, “that if you go forth to surrender your life in this fashion, t will bear you companionship and share your fate !” “ And I,” quoth Ahab, “swear to ye by my stomach, and by my flesh and blood, and by | the black-eyed houris of Paradise—of which about threescore are reserved for me—and by that tremendous angel whose eyes are three days apart, that if you do such a foolish thing, that 1 will not stir astep from this tower! There would be infinitely more wisdom in running from them than toward them ; but if you have a different notion, haye your own sweet wills, and be cut up finer than a con- serve of meats !” “Truly, this knave hath natural wit,” said Sir Raoul. “Have you horses enough to mount your few followers and your sisier?” he added, after a pause. “T have,” replied Boabdil ; “ of my former state so much remains to me. | It is a wise thought, and may offer the means of escape to her. Ahab, go and order the groom and those two faithful attendants who have ad hered to me in my misfortunes, to prepare horses for instant flight.” . CHAPTER VIL THE DOOM OF THE VERMILION TOWER. | Boabdil sent to announce to Leoline his resolve to leave the tower, while Sir Raoul _remained, observing the movements of the emissaries of the King of Granada ; for such _ they doubtless were. On this occasion, he | was careful to screen himself from the mateh- locks of a concealedenemy. In about fifteen minutes, the horsemen began to mount, and as fast as they were in the saddle, turned the _heads of their steeds toward the Vermilion | Tower. Seven horses, by this time, stood sad- | dled in the court, and the servants were en- gaged in bringing from Leoline’s apartment rig articles as could be conveniently car- ed. |.“ Delay not!” cried Mornay, “I can hear _ the clatter of hoofs.” Boabdil appeared, sup- porting his sister. The upper part of her person was covered by a vail, which clouded without concealing her beauty. Her brother | lifted her to the saddle. Sir ul wished it had been his agreeable duty to render that service. He kept his position on the wall, ' that he re be the last to monnt. All were in the saddle save Ahab, who had been miss- ing some time. The servants could give no account of him. Boabdil waited for his ap- pearance. “T can see the nodding of their plumes!” | exclaimed Morna , anxiously. “The youth, Ahab, is absent,” answered | the Prince. “ We wait his coming.” There was an interval of silence. “JT hear their voices!” warned Sir Raoul, — in a voice somewhat husky. “I swear by the Cross that you cannot escape if you go /not at once! Linger longer, and they will Teach this wall as you issue from the oppo- site postern.” | “Mount, Sir Raoul. We must needs leave the wayward youth to his fate.” Mornay needed no second bidding; he de- _scended from the wall, drew away the ladder, and threw himself upon his steed, which reared and curved his neck as if proud of the burden he bore. The knigut experienced
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8 sensations of pleasure in again bestriding his | faithful horse. They swept around the tower to a portal little used save for secret egress. As er issued from the court, they heard the dull c cimetars at the opposite point. Old Ali was about to close and fasten the gate, when Boabdil forbade him. “TI will give the poor youth a chance, though it be at my own peril,” he said. | They rode away gently at first, increasin their speed as they left the tower behind. | They were half-way down the mountain when Ahab came clattering after them, to the reat satisfaction of all but Ali, who grum- led, and hinted that his tardiness would bingy ruin their well-devised purpose, and ring the enemy after them, helter-skelter. “Will your worships stop a moment ?” said Ahab, with his customary phlegm. “From this level spot you can look back and see the tower distinctly ; and I have my reasons for wishing you to watch it while you may count your fingers some ten times without any par- ticular inal Observe, my masters, how the white, dim light of the moon quivers along the battlements? Who knows that we shall look upon it again ?” From some undefinable impulse, Leoline stopped and turned to look at the tower. The whole party followed her example, the irasci- ble old Ali twirling his beard and muttering his disapproval. “That accursed boy,” quoth he, “ will bring us all to the cimetar !” “'That fabric,” said Boabdil, “has loomed on yorder summit for centuries. Many changes have happened to the Moor since it was reared. Ahab, why did you linger ?” “Tt was so determined,” answered Ahab. “ Had they scaled the wall before yo left ?” “They were swarming over it, like sheep over a stile, when I led my horse from the postern, and bolted it?” “ Were you seen, think you ?” dsked Ali. “No more than you can see your own ill- humor!” retorted Ahab. “They are now running through the tower like a kitten after its tail,” he added. “ Perhaps they'll pursue us; perhaps they won’t. But it is all the game !” ' While they had their eyes fixed on the sombre turrets, the whole massive pile arose suddenly and startlingly inair. Then a great blaze ot fire flashed to heaven, there was a terrific explosion, and the entire fabric sub- sided and crumbled away out of sight, leaving, where it had stood, a black pall of smoke. The adjoining mountains roared back a frightful echo, while the earth shook beneath the feet of the appalled spectators. For some seconds huge fragments of stone were falling around the scene of the catas- trophe. Among other sounds could be dis- tinguished the mad bounds of affrighted horses dashing frantically from the spot. The air billowed to and fro, and it was some | time before the booming murmurs of the re- verberations died away. The parties looked at each other in amaze- ment, if not absolute dismay. “This is a very extraordinary occurrence,” said Boabdil. “ Most sudden and awe-inspiring !” observ- ed Leoline. “It has involved your enemies in destruc- tion,” added Mornay. “ Allah achbar! God is great!” said Boab- dil, reverentially. “ Ahab had a hand in it, I'll swear,” mut- tered Ali. ‘“ Nothing happens that he hasn’t something to do with.” “Not so, old grumbler!” said Ahab. “I do only what I am forced to do. own way, I would not lift my hand to do anything. We are all pushed forward like a weaver’s shuttle.” “ Ahab,” said Boabdil, “tell us how this ng i oe ” “When your worship speaks, the air that comes out of your mouth is like the breath of the Prophet ; and I can no more withstand it than I can the hot wind on the desert. In this manner it came to pass : —The wisdom of a santon fell on me like a fragment of stone from the top of a wall. force of my inspiration, or wit, or whatever your immediately became a machine, or as one of those effigies or wooden manikins that are | actuated by secret springs.” “Tf your introduction were shorter, we | should be better pleased,” said Boabdil, with | some impatience, The Knights of the langor of shields and the jangle of | If Thad my | So great was the | odships may please to call it, that I | Red_ Cross. “it your worship can tell it better than I, I will listen with all my ears. But being, as I said, urged on like the beam of a battering- ram, Iran down to the vaults of the tower, where was stored a goodly quantity of that explosive substance used by artillerists in the projection of globes of iron, stones, and other missiles, also for the firing of matchlocks.” “Come at once to thy tale!” added Boad- bil, with a frown. “« My speech must flow even as it is decreed. Opening one of the vessels containing this black powder, I laid a train communicating with the whole store. At the end of this train I placed a slow-match, and, knowing that nothing could happen that was not fore- seen ‘and predestinated, I walked leisurely from the tower, and leading the nag you lett me "neath the open rtal, followed your worships to the best of my skill and ability. As you perceive, the tower has disappeared. The cause of its destruction, who knows? It may have been the will of Allah; it may have been the black powder.” Ahab looked calmly up at the cloud of smoke that hung over them and was gradu- ally expanding into space, impregnating the atmosphere with a sulphurous odor. “There might have been,” he resumed, “ a dozen men within the walls, searching for your worship and my divine lady. Again, there might not have been but ten or eleven. It would have been safer for them had they been farther off; but it was their fortune. They could no more help being there than I could help laying the train. Perhaps Heaven interposed for their safety; possibly they were blown sky-high. But it is all the same.” “This youth,” said Raoul, “is crammed to the throat with philosophy !” “Your godship will forbear interrupting me till 1 have had my say. ‘The good Moslem that gets blown up gets a stronger lift toward the Seventh Heaven than he could reasona- bly expect if he died with his feet on the ground. Again: One who 1s blown up to- day will not be blown up to-morrow, and is entirely relieved of any fear of accident. But it makes no difference. Neither you, nor I, nor any other person, ought to com- plain either of Allah or the black powder.” “Let us go!” said Boabdil, and they turned from the contemplation of the smoking ruin, to seek safety they knew not where. CHAPTER VIII. TWO TO A DOZEN. The question now arose, which way to direct their flight. The Knight of the Red Cross, being unacquainted with the country, felt himself incompetent to advise, while Ali made numerous suggestions, none of which seemed worthy of attention. When the wis- dom of each was exhausted, the Princess hinted her wish that Ahab, who throughout the discussion had maintained absolute si- lence, be consulted. The eccentric youth was therefore appealed to. He was not in the least put to it for an answer. “There are places in these mountains where you might hide the armies of the Christian king, if one could but stumble upon them. I believe I know the dwelling of a persecuted Jew, which will be just the thing we want. I chanced to discover it by acci- dent, and have kept my and his secret ever since. If it be your highness’s will that I lead you thither, you have only to say so. He may receive you in a friendly manner, or per- chance he may betray you to one you know of, and whom, by the aid of my tongue, m new master knows of—the bloody-minded, cruel, unnatural, restless old king of Gra- nada !” Both Boabdil and his sister for a moment appeared greatly troubled and perplexed. he first, too, was angry with the wayward Ahab, while the latter manifested alarm and embarrassment. “ My brother,” she said, “ no secrets can be kept from this inquisitive and sharp-witted boy. Were it not for his uniform faithfulness, I should fear to trust him.” “ Glorious-eyed beauty,” quoth Abab, “ di- vinely-attempered princess ab, hy the will of God, will serve you till your brother fs seated on the throne of Granada! You can doubt me, or you can trust me. It’s all the same !” . “Unfortunate prince and princess,” said | Mornay, with the most proiound respect, “regret not that I am the possessor of your history." | have heard of the eruel conduct ‘ot your father, Muley Ben Hassan, who, darkened by superstition and groundless mfs- apprehension, decreed to slay his own off- spring, to thwart a mischievous and idle pre- diction. Iknow that La Horra,‘the chaste’, with her son, Mahomet Abdallah, generally ealled Boabdil, were confined in the tower of Comares, one of the most notable of the many similar structures of the Alhambra. The King was bafiled in his intentions to annul the truth of the prophecy with the sword— frustrated by the devotion of the mother. A trusty servant received private directions to wait below the Alhambra at the hour of mid- night, near the river Darro, with an Arabian courser fleet as the wind. The slighted and wronged sultana awaited, with all the tender trepidations of a mother’s soul, till silence and darkness brooded over the palace; then, knotting together the scarfs, shawls, and vails of herself and attendants, she lowered the unlucky prince from the tower of Comares with singular success, when he made his escape on the horse that had been provided by her forethought. But I must confess that I never received the least knowledge of, or was led to believe, that a youthful princess shared his flight.” “The story, so far as you have related it,” answered Boabdil, in a pensive voice, “is wonderfully correct. Though it be not uni- versally known that a sister shared my dan- gerous deliverance, and subsequent exile and persecution, such was the case. Since you are aware of our identity and misfortunes, I have no doubt but I may confide entirely in your generosity, and, that the secret will never be spoken to my detriment.” * On this cross, see 2d Prince,” cried Sir Raoul, with emotion, “I swear to treat you as a friend and brother, and to do all in my power to restore you to your own! ‘To the beautiful and accomplished Princess, your sister, I vow absolute obedience and faith ; and were she a queen, she could not find among her subjects so devoted a slave as Raoul Mornay. My sword and my lance are hers ; and, lest you should misunderstand me, I will add that [ expect nothing in return, and no other reward than the consciousness of serving one so worthy of — gs fealty. In being her servant, I feel that [ am more highly honored than in being the lord of a province.” When the Knight of the Red Cross ended this courteous declaration, he bent his dark plumes to the mane of his horse. The Princess blushed deeply. “Tt is a poor service, brave cavalier, to which you have thus magnanimously devoted your sword and lance. Jor the sake of your merit and deservings, I wish it were better ; but it were ungraceful in me, even in my low estate, to refuse an arm so gallantly offered,” answered Leoline, with mingled enthusiasm and timidity. The black plumes of Mornay sank again to hig steed’s neck. Boabdil remained deject- edly silent. “ Fair Princess and mistress of my actions, I thank you most abundantly for your conde- scension,” responded Mornay. “I will ac- knowledge no dominion but thine till thy brother sits on the throne of Granada.” “ Alas, worthy Christian, I fear your bond- age will be long!” ‘The Princess spoke in a sweet and pensive voice, and sighed, and that sigh was echoed by Boabdil. “Sir Raoul Mornay,” said the latter, “you have devoted yourself to the fortunes of an unlucky Prince.” « Noble Boabdil, banish that accursed wor from your thoughts! Itis a miserable word, and breeds misfortune out of itself. Find but present security, and your name will by- and-by rally those around your standard who love your cause and person, and are dissatis- fied with the reign and c¢ruelties of your father.” The Knight of the Red Cross delivered himself of these thoughts with striking ear- nestness. The Prince was touched. “TI confess,” he said, “that your speech hath a wholesome and a natural sound ; and, by the assistance of Allah, I will profit by it.” Just then Ahab pricked up to Mornay’s side, and said : “ Something like a dozen horsemen are pur- suing us, aad their steeds seem fresh and ) sturdy. They come with lances in rest, and ' Damascus blades jingling at their sides.” “ By St. Jago, it is true!” exclaimed Sir | Raoul, casting his eyes downward toward
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the luxuriant valley they had crossed but a halt-hour before. “Ah!” murmured Leoline, “a new dan- ger has come, just as I was beginning to take heart.” “ Fear not those who approach, sovereign lady of my sword and lance ; for, by the help of the saints, the Prince and myself will speedily overthrow and put them to flight. In fact, I rejoice at an opportunity to fight under the eyes of her to whom | have vowed allegiance.” “A dozon to two is bad odds,” said Ahab, phlegmatically ; “and if they do not break those iron pots on your heads, it will be the strangest thing that has happened yet. For myself, I should rather trust to my heels than to those long spikes you carry with so much satisfaction.” “Trust in whatever you like,” growled Ali, “and don’t worry your betters by your impu- dence.” “Those horsemen,” said Boabdil, “ are ex- cell: ntly mounted, and follow at a swinging pace. I fear we shall not be able to getaway from them.” “I would suggest,” answered Mornay, “that Ahab and the other attendants go for- ward with your sister in the direction of the Jew’s dwelling, while you and I keep at an easy distance behind, and, if necessary, show | those fellows who come on so confidently the quality of our courage.” This proposition was at once acceded to, as presenting the best prospect for insurin the safety of Leoline; but before they had passed the crown of the eminence which they were ascending, the pursuers were with- in hailing-distance of Boabdil and Sir Raoul, and spurring up the acclivity at a sound rate. “ Halt, and reveal your purpose!” cried Mornay, raising his voice. “If you come on in this fashion, some of you will speedily bite the dust.” “Our business,” answered the leader of the party, “is not with you so much as with the person beside you; therefore, if you would avoid injury, ride away quietly, for this matter concerns not you.” “On the contrary, you will soon discover that it concerns me much. Turn back, or prepare to meet us like true men. Let two of you ride forward and encounter us two,” said Mornay. “Think not we will be guilty of such folly! We will not lose the advantage of numbers.” “ Your reply indicates that you are but mean-spirited and common varlets, unworthy to match a true knight in full course,” re- turned Mornay, contemptuously. “ Parley not with the traitorous dogs !” said Boabdil. “I trust I may one day hang some of them from ‘the towers of the Alham- | bra. Close your visor and have at them!” The Knight of the Red Cross laid his long ashen lance in rest, commended himself to God and his mistress, and with her scarf fluttering over his dinted armor, thundered down upon the Moorish horsemen like a great rock loosened from the mountain. The | impatient horse shared the excitement of his | mastcr, and with his dark ears laid back, his | eyes burning like coals, his nostrils distend- ed, his mouth open, and h‘s white teeth gleam- ing like ivory, he presented, when taken in | conjunction with the imposing figure of his rider, an object that filled them with dismay. But one man of the twelve had courage | enough to meet him, and he was stricken | from his saddle as if he had been a shape of straw. Passing the discomtited Moor, he | unseated another with his lance, overturned a third, both horse and rider, and then draw- ing his sword, laid about him in good earnest. Boubdil, at that crisis, swept with great. impetuosity into the midst ot them, while they stood confounded, and did such execu- tion that they were fain to turn and igno- miniously fly. Mornay and the Prince pur- sued them to the toot of the hill, slaying several outright, and leaving but four in a condition to return to the Alhambra. CHAPTER IX. THE STONE CASTLE. When Sir Raoul drew rein to return, the first object he saw was Leoline, Waving her vail. ‘Yo his chivalric heart, it was a wel- come sight. He put spurs to his black steed and reached her tong before Boabdil. He received her commendations with a modesty as great as his merits. ; “J have seen many hard encounters,” said the gray-bearded Ali, “but never a victory more gallantly achieved. Hz, py is the lady fair who has thy loyal obedience in the keep- ing of her word and smile.” Mornay bowed gratefully to the old serv- ing-man; his words were welcome, being spoken in the hearing of the queen of his heart. “We must not forget, good Ali, that to the Prince, your master, we mainly owe the suc- cess of this passage-at-arms,” said Sir Raoul. “The brave,” observed the Princess Leo- line, “ are always generous, and never over- look the deservings of others.” Boabdil now joined them, flushed with the warlike exercise, and elated at the result. “ Brother,” said Leoline, “you have well merited the favor of lady bright, to speak in the phraseology of the Frank, and | regret | that there is not some divine creature here to toss you her glove.” “If that divine creature had a hand half as small as yours, it would be of no sort of sery- ice to his worship, for he would not be able to wear it on his little finger ; and I scarcely know what a thing is good for unless it can be worn or eaten,” said Ahab, thinking he was called upon to express an opinion. “ But,” he added, “ you had better not tarry here in complimentary discourse, which, to be plain, is of no account; but follow me as | fast as you can.” Each, perceiving this to be sensible advice, | was very willing to proceed ; so they set for- ward, hoping for the best. “Think you,” asked Sir Raoul, when he had an opportunity of speaking privately with Ahab, “ that we can rely, with any cer- tainty, on the kindness of the Jew you have mentioned ?” “In regard to him, two things you may count on without doubt; he will receive you, or he will not. If he receives you civilly, you will be civilly received; if he turn you away uncivilly, you will be uncivilly turned away. And that is Go’ds truth, if I ever spoke it ” “And what is your opinion, sage Ahab ?” queried Mornay, who had learned how to humor the eccentricities of the Moorish youth. “It is this: if he will not admit us willingly, we will find a way to make him change his mind. It were no hard matter to batter fn his door, or smoke him and his daughter out of his stone palace, like foxes out of their hole. After we get hold of him, a taste of the bas- tinado will no more than pay him for his | churlishness. But whether he refuse or com- | ply, submit or remain obstinate, fall on our necks and kiss us, or drive us away with | Israelitish hounds, it is all the same!” “You spoke of a stone palace. What meant you by that?” “You must know that these mountains have been inhabited by many races of men; | and there are to be found among them an- _ cient castles and curious excavations, erected and wrought by nobody knows whom. There are often found vast chambers cut in solid rock, that have more the seeming of | subterranean palaces than anything else. And my bearded Jew, Sadoc, burrows in one _ of these, so ingeniously contrived that both air and light are freely admitted.” “You spoke, also, of a daughter ?” “T did, most valorous; and you may go far before you will find such another bit oi raid itish beauty. But as my taste runs, I am as well satisfied with Nicolette, her handmaid- en,” replied Ahab, with extreme complacence. “I think I see what turns the weather- vane,” said Sir Raoul, smiling. “You made | good use of your time, doubtless, when you had access to this Nicolette 2” “I can’t deny but 1 practiced my best graces, and showed my wit to the best ad- . vantage ; and I flatter myself that, when I underiake to be agreeable, nobody in the world can come within a mile of me. Know- ing that I shall win or lose, I give myself no uneusiness about the result, certain that I shail die at just the same identical moment in either case. No damsel, though never so pretty, ever kept aman trom dying. Wom- an can produce heartaches and manifold other diseases, but I'll be blamed if she can cure the simplest complaint, except hunger.” “ How tar is it to the stone palace of Sa- ” oc | “Tcannottell. I think we might reach it | in three hours, with moderate traveling.” ' ir Raoul had too muck good sense to press The Knights of the Red Cross. 9 his company much upon Leoline. Some- times he rode in advance, close to their guide, Ahab ; at others, dropped behind ; but never, unless addressed by Boabdil, placed himself near the Princess; and when he ventured to do so, exercised such judgment and delicacy, that she could not help being flattered by his discretion. In this way, he imperceptibl gained an advantage over her, a woman al- ways being ready to grant those little atten- tions which cost her no effort, yet give much pleasure, providing they are not abused and misconstrued by masculine vanity. In short, the Knight of the Red Cross was making good progress in the esteem of Leoline, though not perhaps sensible of the fact. They continued their flight without further interruption until two hours after sunrise, when they entered a very mountainous and rocky region, where they curved and wound about strangely through passes and defiles. They came, at length, to a narrow yet verd- ant ravine, through which trickled musically a small stream of water, a thousand wild flowers drawing nourishment from its mois- | ture, giving it perfume in return. Crossing | this, a mountain of rock defied their further | progress. “We have finished our journey,” said Ahab. “ We have arrived at the stone palace of Sadoe, the Jew.” “JT see no palace of any kind!” growled Ali. “ Nor would one of your dullness ever dis- cover it,” replied Ahab. “ Horseflesh, my masters, can go no further.” Ahab, the Witty, sprang to the ground and passed between the large rocks, separated just enough to allow a convenient passage, and then ran up what appeared to be natural steps in the nearly perpendicular side of the mountain. He leaped nimbly from step to step like a goat. This proceeding was watched with inter- est by those who had trusted to his fidelity, and whose safety depended so much upon the event. Ahab stood presently on a small shelf, which seemed to owe nothing to the art of man for its peculiar shape. Picking up a _ small stone, he struck several distinct blows on the rock, which on thut side formed nearly the entire face of the mountain. The utmost silence followed this knocking. Old Ali muttered, and Boabdil showed signs of im- atience. Nothing discouraged, Alab let fly his blows again with increased vigor. “Let him thump!” said Ali, “and that is all the good itll do. Perhaps he expects the mountain to open, and an enchanted palace to appear!” This sneer had scarcely died on the grum- bler's lips, when a voice responded from the _ interior of the rock, with a peculiarly muftied and hollow sound. “Who disturbs me,” it said, “at my morn- ing prayers ?” “Tt is a friend that knocks,” answered Ahab. “ Who taught you the signal ?” “One of your own household, worthy Sadcc. Remember you not my voice ?” “I know nobody’s voice. Go away, who- ever you are, and vex not one who has re- nounced the world and all its vanities,” re- plied Sadoc, in a querulous tone. “ Not so, pious Israelite. You haye with you a daughter and a maiden ; and daughters and maidens are the greatest vanities in the world. Iam Ahab, the youth who chanced once to do you a friendly turn, and discover- ed also your retreat.” “ Are you alone ?” asked Sadoc, cautiously. “I cannot say that 1am; but I am so near ane, that there are but six with me, all “ Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob! What do:s the young heathen say? Do my ears deceive me? Begone, you whelp of idolatry! I have no entertainment for sojourners within my narrow cell.” We'll see about that!” retorted Ahab. “I _have a bag of a certain black powder with me, which, if crammed into the crevices of thy door, and set on fire, will blow you smack | into the bosom of Abrakam.” “God of my fathers!” groaned Sadoc. “ When will our persecutions cease?” “When you open the door,” answered Ahab, practically. “But lest ka should n I will be stuffing in that same black powder mentioned.” “Of what degree are those with you ?”
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Be -Inisgives me, young Ahab! “10 “ Of any or all degrees, just as it may best suit you. But I can tell you that they are many degrees unpe tient at your delay. Also, that there is a lady among them more beauti- ful than your daughter Salome, who stands much in need of rest and refreshment.” “1 am afraid, importunate stripling, to ad- mit strangers within my gates. It is a time of persecution and distress among my people. We know not how to distinguish friend from foe. Our confidence is often abused, and our faith tampered with. Our wives and our daughters are like lambs in the midst of wolves. Our slow and pairful accumulations are unjustly wrested from us, and we have no city nor abiding-place on the earth.” “ All of which,” answered Ahab, “has no- thing to do with the subject. I swear by the Prophet that you shall not be harmed by those I bring. ‘Chey are as hunted and miser- | able as eyer was a descendant of Israel. 'They want neither your.gold, nor your daughter, nor your life, nor your faith. They will bring a blessing and not a curse.” “Stop one moment, young heathen, while I look at them. I would see in what array they come.” | “Let your observations be short, or the rocks will soon be tumbling about your head.” “T see,” said Sadoc; and his voice came from, a, greater distance than before ; “ two cayaliers in full armor, with dreadful spears in their hands, and. swords girt at their loins, bestriding mighty. beasts of war. My heart into the hands of men of blood, that do battle with carnal weapons.” At this stage of affairs, Sir Raoul, losing all patience, cried out: “Tn the name of the Holy Patriarchs, old man, cast aside your cowardly fears, and give shelter, if in yotr power, to a fair lady in dis- tress. Refuse a request so reasonable, and I swear by those Books of the Law which you profess to revere, to enter your rocky fortress by force !” “ The will of God be done!” muttered Sa- | doc ; and presently he was seen standing on the shelf beside Ahab. 4 Sir Raoul dismounted and assisted Leoline | to alight, when Boabdil, taking her in his | arms, bore, her carefully up the irregular steps to the. now open door of the stone chambers of Sadoc, where, to his infinite amazement, he was met by a maiden of such rare perfections, that pages might be written in, praise of her beauty. It was Salome, the , daughter of the Jew. In stature she was about the size of Leoline, but her beauty was of that dark, rich charac- ter common alike to the Jewess and the daughters of Spain. The contour of her face much resemb ed that of the Princess, but the deeper complexion imparted to it a different expression. Her eyes were large and lus- trous; her brows heavy, and delicately pen- ciled; while her black hair graced her mag- nificent head like a crown. But it was not her person only that surprised Boabdil, the loftiness of her air impressed him at once. ‘He surrendered his sister to this lovely irl without hesitation or distrust. The two ooked at each other for a moment, and ex- perienced equal surprise and admiration. ““ Father,” said, Salome, “attend to these strangers, while I bestow such care on this miaiden as her fatigues and condition re- quire.” “Tt shall be so, my daughter, though the God of Abraham knows only what will come of it.’ Then to Sir Raoul and Boabdil, | “ Gentle Sirs, let your servants disencumber your horses, and they will find excellent forage in the Valley of the Running Brook. It is not in my power to entertain persons of your seeming in a becoming fashion ; but I furnish out of my poverty all that I may.” “No apologies, good Sadoc,” replied the | Prince. “We have to excuse ourselves to you for the rudeness which forced upon you unexpected and unwelcome guests.” “ Like the foxes, we are compelled to dwell in holes and dens, in caves and clefts of the rocks. Both Moor and Spaniard are our enemies. We are tried oft and sorely. Our old men and our young perish by the edge of the sword. Marvel not, then, gentle that I gave you reluctant admission to my only place of safety on earth.” “J know your wrongs,” answered Boabdil, “and were { King of Spain or Granada, I would quickly redress them. Fear not, old 1 am betrayed | irs, _ man, that I will ill requite your hospitality, or lightly betray the secret of your abode.” «Thanks, gracious Moor,” said Sadoc, following Salome, who was aiding Leoline both by her arm and cheering words, farther into the mysteries of the stone palace. Sir Raoul and the Prince were impressed at every step with its vastness, and freely ex- pressed their wonder that human hands should have wrought such a habitation in the unyielding rock. Near the entrance it was dimly lighted; but as they proeeeded the light. grew clear, soft, yet intense. On the right and left were rows of columns skill- fully fashioned and ornamented with antique devices. The roof was fretted with similar chiselings, while the handiwork of the floor was equally astonishing. “ God is great,” said Boabdil, “and man in- herits a portion of his strength and wisdom. | The Alhambra itself cannot boast of architec- | tural labor like this.” “ Hast been there, noble Sir?” asked Sadoc, quickly. Boabdil smiled that strange, sweet, charac- teristic smile, and replied, with a sigh : “ Sadoc, I have been there!” Struck by the answer, or not perhaps so much by the answer itself as the air with which it was given, the Jew glanced inquisi- tively at his guest. CHAPTER X. SALOME. Sadoc, the Jew, was a man past middle age, '& great deal bowed and beaten down by his warfare with the world. He was one | who, clearly, had experienced his share of injury and proscription ; for he had lived in those fanatical times when the Israelite was despised alike by the Spaniard and the Moor, when he had no security for life or property, or the safety of wife or daughter. The dread- ful persecutions of this wandering and tem- pest-tossed people form a melancholy and deplorable page in the archives of history. Sadoc was meanly clad, and had continu- ally an anxious and unassured demeanor. His nose was large and sharp, his lips thin and avaricious in expression, his chin rather prominent, his eyes small, cunning, and ever Vigilant. His forehead was like the glacis of a wall, retreating to his crown, which was bare, while the scattering locks around it were gray. Nothing seemed to escape the restless vision of Sadoc. Wherever wandered the eyes of the strangers, there went his. He liked neither their surprise nor admiration of his stone castle. He secretly preferred that they would walk on without noticing either column or capitol, fretted ceiling or polished floor, sculptured wall or great marble basins into which trickled diminutive streams of crystal water. “ All this,” said Sadoc, “is cold and com- fortless. It chills the heart, and makes one long for the warmth and cheerfulness of sun- light and cities. It is all that is left to a miserable descendant of Jacob.” “ Not so bad a heritage as one might find,” observed Mornay. “ You have here both dryness and air, and many princes of the earth inhabit a less costly habitation. But we have not seen all of it yet, [ imagine ?” “All that is worth seeing,” said Sadoe, hastily, Yet a little farther on, we shall come to a chamber much smaller than this pillared vestibule, which is provided with a very few of the comforts and necessities of life.” “ He tells not all,” whispered Ahab to Sir Raoul. Arrived at the chamber spoken of by the Jew, Boabdil looked around for Leoline and Salome, but hey were not to be seen; they had disappeared in some deeper recess. The apartment into which Raoul and the Moor were ushered was not large, though the ceil- ing was lofty. Like the main entrance, it beamed with a soft light which streamed from many lamps that hung from the wall in bronze sockets. The hardness and coldness of the floor was relieved by soft mats. Couches on which to sit or recline were ap- propriately placed near a fire, which blazed steadily within the are of a fluted column standing against and a part of the solid wall. From whence this mysterious fire derived sustenance, neither Boabdil nor Mornay could divine; they saw it flaming with a constant brightness, as if a magician had worked it from some hidden fountain of fire ' beneath. The Knights of the Red Cross. Boabdil could not help thinking of astrolo- gers, soothsayers, and cabuwlists. ‘Lhe whole reminded him of that prediction which had been so baneful in its influence. Two of the servants had remained with the horses; but Ali, imitating the example of Ahab, followed them. These two now re- lieved the knights of their armor; an opera- tion which Sadoc eyed with covert contempt. “ Father Sadoc,” said Ahab, as he carefully deposited his master’s armor in a niche, “ the horses of noble knights differ very materially from those paltry hacks ridden by peasants and Israelites. The splendid chargers of these cavaliers, who are flowers of knizht-errantry, are worth, at the very least, their weight in gold, with a diamond or two about the size of a peacock’s egg thrown in; and con- sequently must not herd with common brutes. Methinks a castle like this would be incom- plete without some accommodation for horses ; and if one were to look sharply, he might dis- cover a score of your own as nicely stabled and fed as ever quadruped was.” “Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob!” cried Sadoe, raising his withered hands. “I kuow not what gods those be you men- tion, and care less; but I do pray of you to have some compassion on those surperv An- delusian steeds, which have within a few hours borne those iron pots that you see there, and those long poles with iron heads, and all that other iron, at a speed most in- credible, against upward of a dozen enemies, to their utter discomforture, destruction, and defeat.” While Sadoc was framine an answer, a young girl tripped in. Ahab instantly greet- ed her. She blushed, and appeared nothing loth to see him. “ My masters,” he said, “ this is Nicolette. |The Prophet has granted me to see her be- | fore; or it might have been Satan. But it is all the same!’ He looked slyly at his new master. “ Nicolette,’ he added, “thou art the prettiest girl in Granada, of which I will tell thee more anon. The thing now in hand is, that your master desires you, without de- ’ | lay, to show me the way to the stables.” The eftrontery of Ahab so confounded a * fe Sadoc, that his tongue utterly refused to make protest or remonstrance. Nicolette | looked at him, and either willfully or really | mistook his silence for assent. * With all my heart,” said she, and set off with the lightness of a kid, followed by Ahab, whose conscience was so easily adapted to his soul, that if he carried a point, he gave himself oo uneasiness about the way in | which it was accomplished. The stables to which the damsel led him | were as curiously contrived as the castle it- self; for the mountain, with its steep sides, and long spires of stone, and towering crags, naturally sugyested the idea of a gigantic castle. Entering this stone stable by a mas- sive door, overgrown on the outside with moss, and opening by a simple adjustment | of levers, Ahab was struck nearly breathless | with surprise at beholding a stud of twenty horses. “ Your master need never go on foot.” he said, quietly, for the emotion of wonder never lasted him more than half a minute. ©“ {n- form me, fair Nicolette, why he keeps so many fine animals ?” “7 know not,” answered the girl, “and if I did L would not tell you.’ “Perhaps,” continued Abab, while the sery- ants led in the horses, “he barguins with those who are obliged to part with valuable beasts. Perchance he is a horse-dealer? But the devil himself could not find him, if he wanted a horse everso bad. ‘This is a mys- tery. I shall solve it, or L shall not. Wuat is the odds?” ‘Then to the servants: “ Bring in all the poor brutes, and do not be atraid that you shall treat them too well. ‘There is roum enough and provender enough, too, 1 I warrant.” It was now Nicolette’s turn to gratify her curiosity. “Who are these,” she asked, “that you have brought with you?” “One is Ali, one is Jakob, and—” “If you are going to talk like a fool, stop where you are; for | care not a siraw tor your Alis and your Jakobs. Who are those fine cavaliers ?’’ said Nicolette, with a toss of her pretty head. “ A couple of kings that I picked up on the road, and am going to take care of till I can eet thrones for them. ‘That is all and every-
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thing they are. Give me a kiss, Nicolette.” “A kiss is what you never had from me, and what you are not likely to get soon, if you do not discourse in a better fashion. Kings are not as plenty as pomegranates, that you can find them by the wayside, at every turn. Come, I will have it out of you.” “Press me not to the wall, sweet Nicolette ! One of the knights is my master, nominated and elected to that honor by my own dear self. I serve him whether he will or other- wise ; for 1 make it a rule to follow every fancy that come up. The other, my love, is a melancholy Moor, a wine-dealer, who has either lost a great quantity of wine or his sweetheart; but it makes no odds.” *“ A falsehood on the face of it!” returned Nicolette, pettishly. “But a breath ago you called them both knights, and knights were never wine-dealers in the world, nor can you make me believe so absurd a tale.” “lhe wine-dealer part was a slip of the tongue, or perchance an embellishment of my own. That he is an unhappy knight, is true; it you can learn more of hui than that, you are welcome. With the exception of one little girl that L know his sister is the most beautiiul maiden [ ever beueld.” Ahab ogled Nicolette in a fashion that gave her to understand that she was that identical little girl. “] can bring you a damsel,” retorted Nico- lette, contemptuously, “ that, in the matter of beuwuty, as much surpasses your Moorish lady as the sun surpasses the moon !” While Ahab and Nicolette were thus en- tertaining themselves, Boabdil was scanning every pussage and watching every move- ment, hoping that he should presently see the Jewess return. desire being gratified, he began to inquire about his sister, and expressed a wish to see her immediately. Sadoc lett them to communicate his pleas- ure, and after a short Japse came back with his daughter, with an expression moody and dissatished. ‘Vhe Prince arose at her approach. * Do her not so much honor, noble Sir,” said the Israelite, contracting his heavy brows. “Salome is but lowly born, and be- neath your worship’s notice.” ‘he Moor made no response to this obser- vation. He had seen the beauties of the Al- hambra and fair women from other lands ; but none ever charmed his eyes or touched his imagination as this Jewess had insensibly done. She stood in his presence, not as an inerior, but with the prestige of a princess. Not that there was any pretence in her man- ner, but the natural and spontaneous outflow or her character and quality imparted to her this regal dignity. Grace, modesty, and lofty pride were so biended in her person and air, that it was impossible not to admire and re- spect her. Boabdil felt that he should lose another throne or gain something of more value. Be- fore Salome had opened her lips to speak, the Moorish Prince had surrendered the pal- ace of his heart, with all the riches it con- tained. She spoke; she said something of his sister, he scarcely comprehended wuat. tHe though, however, that te was bidden to tollow her, that Sadoc remonstrated, and that she, with a tew calm words, conquered his Objecuons. He walked behind her, in a sin- gular state of incredulity and bewilderment. uo passed numberless objects, curious and rare, Without giving them a second thought. ‘The most exquisite creation of the palace of Sadoc was beiore him, moving in grace and beauty. He walked on in his new dream, and stopped, at lengtle where everything seemed to exhale a perfumed air. A balmy odor filled his nostrils and sooth- ed his senses. Recailing his wandering tac- ultics, he petceived that he had entered the bower of lady. He discovered his sister re- clining on a luxuriant couch at the vem ard of the apartment. ‘The walls were hung wit the richest crimson drapery, and the floor covered with a carpet of velvet, soft and yielding to the tread. In no direction could: he turn his eyes without observing evidences of refinement and wealth, for which he was quite unprepared. On a table of elaborate workmanship were drinking-vessels of gold and silver. The tasteful and unique designs and arrangement of the silver, lamps that oured a mellow flood of light and fragrance into this fairy chamber dia not escape the The Knights of the Red Cross. il 4 made bélore advancing to address his sister. Aroused, anon, by the sound of her voice, he crossed this marvelous bower, and seated him- self on a cushion at the feet of Leoline. CHAPTER XI. THE KING OF GRANADA. Muley Aben Hassan, King of Granada, was seated on a magnificent divan, in the Hall of Embassadors, with the officers of his court ‘rhe Moorish King scowled, and twirled his beard fiercely. Sir Raoul drew himself up more proudiy, and cast back the defiant and threatening glances of the courtiers. He remembered the prophecy of Ahab, to the effect that he | would find it easier to get into the Alhambra about him. He was a sovereign inured to | war, and one who had made his name terrible to the Christians. He was skillful and crafty, plotting and pitiless. He had grown grim and gray in power and in contesting and keeping a throne eyer diilicult to possess in peace and safety. At the time at which we have chosen to in- troduce him, there was a cloud on his brow, and a stern purpose in his hard, blue eyes. He said to an atte dant, without moving his head : “Bring hither that English knight who professes to come from King Ferdinand on important business.” e uttered not another word, and kept his eyes fixed on the floor till the messenger came back, followed by Sir Raoul Mornay, who, bowing somewhat haughtily to the King, stood waiting to be addressed. But the old monarch was in no haste to do so. | He surveyed leisurely, and withal contempt- uously, the Knight of the Red Cross, who | bore the ordeal with perfect er ome F have ! When considerable time | had passed, and there were no signs of his | searching yet hurried examination that he | “Sir Raoul,” he began, presently, “ looked over those disjatches from Ferdinand of Spain, of which you are said to be the bearer. I find by the date that you have been long on the way. The King fixed his keen eyes on Mornay. “Your Majesty is right,” replied the latter. “Various accidents have obstructed my jour- ney ; the first and most fatal of which was an encounter with a band of Moslem outlaws, who mortally wounded Don Juan de Vera, who set out with those important papers, and scattered his retinue. The office of deliver- ing the dispatches to your Majesty was then intrusted to me by the dying knight, and I have made my way alone through an ene- my’s country to the foot of your throne.” “You must have met with many adven- tures during that time?” said the King, ques- | tioningly. “A number, your Majesty,” answered Sir Raoul, not quite so much at ease. “TIl be sworn you found in your wander- ings some of those famous old towers, the architecture of which is by many attributed to the Romans ?” “I observed many castles and ancient fortresses perched on the summits of cliffs and mountains ; but I did not consider it ex- pedient to visit them. But, since the main object of my efforts is accomplished, and I than to get out. He read danger in the circle of dark warriors that stood around him, but he saw not one among them that had power to make him quail, or that he would not have | been willing to meet, on foot or on horse. with sword or lance, battle-axe or mace. “Tam called after that order that kept the Temple, and guarded pilgrims on their way to the Holy Sepulchre. I wear the Red Cioss, and am ready to do battle for the true religion. If there be any here who doubt my valor, I | will meet such in the tented field, in the name of God and my sovereign lady.” Sir Raoul drew off his muiled glove, and cast it upon the floor of the Hall of Embrs- ors. A stern silence followed this bold chal- lenge. Anon, a tall, haughty Moor stepped forward to pick up the gage. “Hold!” cried the King. “TI have myself cause of hig with this Christian knight. If, when I have done with him, he has the same mind and ability to meet you in mortal combat, you shall be free to accept the offer.” Then, turning fiercely to Mornay, he added : “Tell me, Sir Knight, whether you did or did not pass some time at an abandoned fortress known as the Vermilion Tower?” “ He who is worthy to wear the Red Cross is above falsehood or prevarication,” replied Mornay, without hesitation or fear. “I did pass a night and a day at the place you have named. Thirsty and hungry, weary and lost, with my steed spent beneath me, I was most willing to seek rest, food, forage, and shelter therein, as any other wayfarer would have cone in a similar strait.” “Mark well this concession, my nobles! E] Zagal, are ss listening?” He cast his eyes at the tall, swarthy officer who had hie to take up Sir Raoul’s gage. “Sire, I have heard the words of this haughty Christian,” he replied, with a dark look at Mornay. “Whom saw you at Vermilion Tower?” continued the King. “TI came not hither,” cried Sir Raoul, in- | dignantly, “to be questioned on any matter foreign to my mission. I am not a witness, but an embassador, and, while I am here, rep- resent the majesty of Ferdinand.” There was an angry murmur among the | courtiers. am here in your presence, I wait your Majes- | ty’s answer to the demands of my royal mas- ter, Ferdinand of Spain.” “ You have let out the truth, at last!” cried | the King of Granada, angrily. “You have spoken of the demands of Merdinantt Ay, and demands they are—demands of a most insulting and shameful kind. We will give your muster neither slaves nor dollars, but Moorish cimetars and Moorish lances! If he will receive this kind of tribute, we will go half way to offer it, and every cimetar and every lance-head shall be borne by a Moslem warrior !” Sir Raoul bowed gravely. “Ts this the message,” he asked, “that the King of Granada wishes me to bear to the King of Spain ?” _ “itis the answer that I shall send; but it is known oniy to the Prophet who will carry it.” ° The officers of the court looked at each other significantly. An anomalous smile played on the features of Muley Aben Has- san. “ Your Majesty can depute whom you will “ Reflect, choleric knight! Be not over hasty in your temper. You will presently learn that I have small respect for you or your King. If you would return to Spain, be somewhat more moderate in your replies, and less punctilious about points of honor.” Hassan stroked his long beard, and strug- _ gled to conceal his chagrin. “There was one in that tower,” he went on, his voice shaking in spite of his iron will, “in whose fate the ate kingdom of Gra- nada is involved. Jam not speaking for my- self, but for my people. I have striver with my heart, and if I have not mastered, I have risen above its affections. My life draws toward its evening, and it matters not, so far as my individual seif is concerned, how soon l rest with my fathers. But L love Granada, and would save it from the rule of one who would betray it to the unbeliever. Were it not for this prediction, I would descend from my throne, and with joy relinquish it to Boabdil. Such, however, is not my inten- tion. I will save Granada!” Hassan paused, and for a moment bowed his gray head. A solemn silence prevailed in the tall of Embassadors. No one dared speak. It was seldom that the lion-souled ing displayed emotion. The English knight, _ only, maintained his composure, and he alone for this mission ; but it is usual for ‘the em- bassador to bear back to his sovereign the proper answer to the missives which he has had the honor to receive and truly detiver. If your Majesty intends to depart trom this”. usage, I must of necessity submit, although I protest against the innovation,” answered the | ; Do this,” continued Sir Raoul, ing his Knight, with stately gravity. * Perhaps I may cioose to reply to his in- sulting demand by the taking of a town or the sack of a city. At any rate, I will not be dictated to by an unbelieving Christian.” / had courage to address the monarch. “ Let the instincts of the father rise superior to the sacrilege and impiety of superstition,’ he said. “Cast from you the trammels of credulity, and put to the sword all astrologers, soothsayers, and magicians in your kingdom. Recall your brave and noble son from his per- secuted exile, and seat him at your right hand. hand, and delivering his thoughts with great fluency and force, “or the execrations of all men and women will follow you to the tomb, and outlive your glory and fame!” / Every officer and warrior trembled at the
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The Knights of the Red Cross. audacity of the embassador of the Castilian crown. El Zagal expected to receive an orier for his instant death. The King raised himself slowly and pain- fully, as if he wrestled with an unseen burden too heavy to bear. There was a certain wild- ness in his expression, and his blue eyes for a moment did not become fixed upon any object, but wandered vacantly about the ,suiptuous apartment. Several Damascus blades were half drawn from their scabbards, but went quietly back when their masters saw the visage of Hassan. Some of these fiery courtiers were of the proud race of the Abencerrages. “There are seasons, my Lords,” said the King, presently, ina hollow-voice, “ when the weaknesses of our earthty and mortal com- position obtain a temporary ascendancy over the stern duties of the sovereign. But, by the blessing of Allah, you have seen this for the last time. I am resolved, as ever, that the sword shall give the lie to seer and prophet, and Granada shall stand !” Instantly the temporary mildness of his countenance passed away. The fierce gleam returned to his eyes and the cruel firmness to his lips. “Guards,” he exclaimed, “take away this Christian dog, and cast him into the deepest dungeon of the Alhambra! Were he a hun- dred tames an embassador, and a hundred times a Knight of the Red Cross, | would teach him @ humbler port and a more become | ing reyerence when he stands in the presence of a crowned king! Away with him !” Muley Aben Hassan stamped impatiently upon the floor, and the guards, closing hastily about Sir Raoul, hurricd him hastily trom the presence of the king. CHAPTER XIL A PROPHECY OF EVIL. It has been seen by the foregoing chapter that Sir Raoul, faithful to his trust, afler seeing Boabdil and his sister in a place of safety, visited the Alhambra and presented those important missives which he had received from the expiring Don Juan de Vera; also Y what belell him when he went to receive Hassan’s answer. / Afver being dragged from the Hall of Em- bassadors, he was deprived of his arms and armor, and, with much insult and abuse, conveyed to one of the dungeons of the tower of Comares, where he was left to re- flec: on the vicissitudes of fortune. He re- gretted that he had not listened to the coun- sel of Boabdil, who had painted to him, in faithful colors, the danger of the enterprise ; not the least of the peril arising from the fact that he had been seen by the Moslem soldiers and Abaddon, the magician, at the Vermilion Tower, aiding one whose death was resolved on by the hard-hearted mon-_ arch. But it was one of the rules of knight- hood never to complain of bodily pain or injuries that could not be helped. Instead of leaying his ioaf of bread and pitcher of wa- ter untasted, he ate of the one and drank of the other, deeming it his duty to preserve health and life as long as practicable. His dungeon was entirely dark ; he could not see the nearest object, and even his stale loaf and earthen pitcher had to be groped for when wanted. It was as lonely and dis- couraging a situation as man could be placed in; and knowing the implacable temper of Hassan, he had little to expect, either from his justice or his mercy. The image of the Princess, however, com- forted him in his reverses. Her beauty now became more exalted in his imagination than when he had occasional access to her pres- ence ; so much does absence enbance the value ot what is beloved. He still retained her scarf, which he had concealed beneath bis armor beiore obtaining audience of the King, and taking it from his bosom, presse] it to his pipe as if it had been the relic of a saint. About midnight of the night following his ‘incarceration, he was awakened from his first sleep by a stream of light falling upon his eyes. Looking at the grated window, he beheld the face of Abaddon, and also the curious coiled lamp that he had before seen carried by the hand of Zegrim. He was not a little startled at these appearances, but soon recovered his Spe sp he “ Begone!” exclaimed Sir ul, recallin the events of their last meeting. “ I woul witness no more of your jugglery. Of your treachery and your villainy I have already | ample proof.” | “Christian warrior,” said Abaddon, with serenity, “thou hast as little faith in my art as in my truth. A person, however humble, may be a useful triend or a dangerous ene- my.” “ He who deceives in one thing will not scruple about deceiving in anoiler. He who lies about the stars and stoops to the nether world for knowledge of the provi- dences of God, never can commend himselt to my confidence and judgment. Had not | my plate-mail been of trusty temper and | honest make, the ball from your matchlock | would have ended alike my aspirations and my existence,” answered Mornay, without the least exhibition of temper. “ Nay, Sir Knight, I discharged no match- lock,” suid Abaddon. “Tt matters not, old man, whether your own hand sped the messenger or the hand of an accomplice or subordinate; the act was in truth yours. Pass on with your rod, our book, your astrolabe, and your yile- | looking lamp, and leave me to the repose of an honest man.” “ Hast thou so much time that thou canst afford to waste a part of it in slecp ?” asked Abaddon, with a sinister expression. “God only knows how much I may have, but I will make the most of it while it lasts. | What is your business here ?” “Tam sent by the King to cast your horo- scope.” “ The King troubles himself unnecessarily. I disbelieve in your art, and care to know no more of the future than Heaven may deign to reveal by dream or vision, or sudden en- | lightenment of the mind. I care not to step out of the natural circle of my life to searcu into mysteries that concern me not,” replied the knight, with solemnity. * All that affects not the supreme will ol the King.” With that, Abaddon unlocked the door, | and, attended by Zegrim, entered the prison | without apparent lear or hesitation. * Your contidence is great, old man. How | know you but 1 will seize you by the throat and strangle you? IL hold your lite as surely | in my baadas if I had sword and dagger. Thy wrinkled flesh would crumble like parchment in my grasp.”’ Mornay looked penetratingly at Abaddon, whose calm, blue eyes met the scrutiny un- _ moved. “Thou will not harm me,” he said, quiet- ly, while Zegrim brought in a small table, inscribed all over at the top with singular | shapes and cuabulistic characters. On this mayic table he placed his iron-clasped book. “[ know not that,” answered Mornay. “Be not tvo certain. Consult now your gods and see what death you will die.” ‘There was an uneasy and transient sink- ing of the magicians eyes. He governed himself and said : “To know my own fate is the only thing | denied to my sublime art. I can no more solve the mystery of my own life and death than I can lilt myself by clasping my knees. Seest thou not, O Christian, taat knowledge hath its beginning and its end, and that there are set bounds to the powers of man ?” Abaddon raised his eyes, and for a moment appeared lost in contemplation of divine | mysteries. ““T have,” he added, anon, “somewhat ex- | amined the predestinated pathway of thy course. I have passed a night in abstruse calculations and awful converse with the | spirits of mid-air, and the spirits of nether earth; and both the stars and spirits agree that thou art near the most critical period of thy life.” *] could have told you that and save you a night’s vigil, and all that communion with the planets and the occult inhabitants of air and Hades. You see before you a Christian knight, who fears not death, when met in the career of honor, and received in the dis- charge of supposed duty. You have re- vealed nothing 1 did not know.” Sir Raoul smiled. Abaddon was discon- certed. “'Yhou are too hasty at conclusions,” re- sumed the latter. “Death is the common penalty of mankind, but there are different | methods of canceling the debt. Some pass _ away with ease and serenity, others go with | lingering agony and inexpressible wrenches of pain, that add thousand-fold to the com- mon horrors of dissolution. Abaddon stole a searching glance at the knight. “Olid man,” exclaimed Mornay, laying his hand suddenly upon his arm, “ disguise not your meaning in such artful and cunningly- chosen verbiage! Speak out at once, and say that your master and sovereign, the cruel and craity, has sent you to threaten me with torture and the horrible engines of his wrath. Go back, and say to him that I ama Christian knight, and will be torn in pieces, draggel joint from joint, and die by pro- | tracted and devilish ingenuities, rather tian compromise my honor or betray his sou !” | These words would sound well in a ro- mance for women; but ‘rom men, who know the nrutations of life and the power of kings, | they are foolhardy and arrogant. No one cares to die, however much he may vaunt of | his courage. Humble yourself before Hassan, | confess your error in aiding a traitor to es- | cape, make known his place of concealment, ) and you may yet live todo many knigitly actions,” said the magician. | Zegrim, who had been mute and attentive, | now spoke in his solt and feminine voice : “My great master, Abaddon, is reputed very wise. Do nuv scorn his advice or dis- credit his prophecies. He is not that kind of | magician that prates of things whereof he is _ hot certain. If he inform you you will be be- headed at dawn, at dawn you will be head- less. If he predict for you the torture-cham- ber, be assured that you will become ac- quainted with its dreadful engines.” Sir Raoul, impressed by the voice and manner of the youth, watched him attentive- ly while he was speaking. “Zegrim,” answered the knight, curling his lip, “another garb might become your person as well!” Zegrim depressed his gaze to the floor, but did not change color. “With the brows, and hair, and eyes, and voice of a woman, the apparel of one would not ill befit you.” Zegrim’s cheeks flushed slightly. Abad- don frowned and exhibited some annoy- ance. “Turn, O Christian, thy thoughts from vanities,” he said. “ ‘To thee it is of the least importance whether Zegrim be a boy or a damsel. Call him what he seems, and what his name indicates. He hath a gentle port, but his soul is courageous, and equal to the mysteries of my art. Keceive the parting | admonitions of an old man, or I swear by the bones of the Propiet, that thou wilt miserably peut Say to the king or his servants, ‘It will deliver Boabdil into your hands.’ ” “ You know me not! To me life is sec- ondary to honor. The mistress of my heart would love me better dead than living, if I fell gloriously on the ficld of battle, wuence brave men should not fly.” Abaddon appeared at’a joss for an answer | to this manly and chivalrous speech. His _ eyes fell on the scarf which Mornay had par- _ tially thrust into his bosom. fait What frippery is that?” he demanded. Then to the youth: “Zegrim, what thinkest | thou of that gay bit of stuff trailing from tie knight's doublet?” “It is the favor of his lady,” he replied, hesitatingly, evincing surprise. “'Phese Franks,” mutiered Abaddon, “ are idolatrous! They make deities of their women. So infatuated are they, that they will often perish for a trumpery piece of cash- _ mere like that.” “The Christian ladies must be happy !” sighed Zegrim. “ But,” he added, “tuat is not the gift of Christian maiden. Observe you not, great master, that there is a crescent embroidered upon it ?” Mornay examined the scarf, and noticed, what he had not before observea, a diminu- tive crescent wrought on one of its corners. He beheld this emblem with a feeling of secret sorrow ; it reminded him that Leoline s faith ditfered from his own. Earnestly he besought heaven that the cross might at some time occupy the place of that infidel emblem. “ Dost thou love her who bestowed that favor ?” asked Zegrim. “T confess, before heaven and you, that I daily and hourly give her the best incense of my heart!” replied Sir Raoul, with an ear- nestness that made the youth start.
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predicated upon it. If you foolishly throw your life away, you not only obtain an eternal divorce from your lady-love, but bestow her upon another. In the world, live men love ; in the grave, dead men rot!” These were the parting words of Abaddon. Again the book, the staff, the astrolabe, and the serpent-lamp vanished with their possessor. aot CHAPTER XIT. LOVE, LIFE, AND LIBERTY. Men sleep in the deepest and most wretch- ed prisons, and Mornay slept in his, dream- ing not so much of the magician and his temptations as of Leoiine and Boabidil. Some hours must have passed over him in his happy reprieve from wakefulness and nicntal sulfering, before he was again called out of his elysiuin to face and feel the reality of his situation. The interruption that now occurred was one of the most unexpected and wonderful. The door of his prison was open, aula lady of dazzling beauty stood on the threshold. Sir Raoul believed that he was beholdin ision. Perhaps the Ma‘lonna herself h safed to appear for his comfort and consolation. So much was he affected by this fancy, that he could neither rise from his straw nor speak. He crossed himself. de- voutly, and waited to see what manner of salutation this would be. In those days, the most extravagant tales of miraculous inter- positions were received as gospel-truth, and repeated for the strengthening of the weak and the confirmation of the strong. The raiment of the lady served greatly to augment the illusion, for she seemed to float in a cloud of fleeey lace. The purity and whiteness of her complexion also imparted un ethereal cast to her features. Pale rays from a small silver lamp, borne in her left hand, creeping ‘over her spotless brow, were suilicient to produce that halo which Sir Raoul was prepared to see. Looking with devout tenderness into her face, the dark glory of her eyes made him tremble. She addressed him. Her voice faltered at the beginning, but rolled on liquidly and smooth- ly anon.” “Thou art a Christian knight.” She stopped, then went on. “Thou last honor and truth. Nor are these qualities all thou possessest to com- mend thee to the heart of a lady.” Mornay began to doubt if this were the Madonna. “Thou hast a form and a soul to excite the deepest sentiment in woman.” She averted her eyes, and a beautiful blush tinted the lily on her cheeks. “In thy country, brave Frank, it may be shame for dame or damsel to make the con- fession Iam now making. Love o/ thee has brought me hither !” “Who art thou, lady ?” asked the knight, who had arisen at the sound of her yoice, and now stood before her in an attitude of respect- ful attention. “ If I answer, ‘ One that loves thee,’ is not that engugh ?” she replied, gently. “This is our first meeting, lady,” said Mor- nay. “ You can have no personal knowledge of those qualities which you are pleased to attribute to me.” “ Knight of the Red Cross, look at me at- tentively. Observe these poor features close- ly.” “Nay, lady, I recall nothing familiar in your face ; but your voice hath a chord in it that touches me,” responded Mornay, intense- ly mystified. “Thou hast heard it before, and looked also into these eyes. Mine ears have heard thee utter those noble sentiments that so well be- come thee, and which have made me th slave, and induced me to risk life and honor to offer thee liberty. Christian ees gin I will renounce my religion ; my kindred ; my station; my country, and fly with thee to Spain, or any other land thou will! Bee! I have the King’s signet-rinc, which will carry me like a potent talisman from the Alhambra. ‘wo mighty steeds are waiting us on the | bank of the winding Darro! In the King’s | ovaies there are none equal to them in speed. | If all Granada pursued, we yet could escape. | Sir Raoul Mornay, wilt thou come ?” “Sweet and gentle lady,” replied Mornay, in a mournful voice. “I may not stir from this prison through guile, or by giving or suf- fering to remain on your mind a false and decejtful impression.” I discover in your speech, and now somewhat in your coun- tenance, that you are the youth, Zegrim, or rather the one that personated him. This being the case, you must be aware, by the sentiments you have heard me express, that hypocrisy is asin would not be guilty of. Lady, your beauty might turn a pilgrim back from the sepulchre of the Nuzarene, and make him forget both his vows and his reli- recreant to my fuith at your bidding, were not my thoughts already placed on a maiden whose lovel)..ess is only equaled by your own.” The Knight of the Red Cross spoke in a subdued tone and earnest. “I expecied to hear this confession. It wounds me, but does not affect my purpose. I offer you love and liberty the same. I make the great sacrifice the same !” Her tones were sweeter, her manner more bewitchingly persuasive than betore. “Thou art charming !” exclaimed Raoul. “It is hard for the heart of mortal man to withstand your enchanting allurements. Ask me to go as the slave of your beauty, without putting trammels on my heart, or making it false to another, and I will go, and be led by your white hand by a silver chain.” He bowed his head and stood submissively before her. Her cheeks grew hot and red, as if light- ning were flowing in them insiead of blood. * fhine auswer is given!” she cried, pas- sionately. “It is enough! ‘Tou hast re- jected one who never before sued to man ; one who has thousands of slaves, but not one master. Thou hast chosen! Thou hast ac- cepted Death, cold and dreadful, for Love, warm and rapturous. Be it so! hard and unfeeling Christian! As for me, | shall have peace no more.” “A thousand, thousand pardons!” ex- claimed Mornay, throwing himsel!’ upon his knees. “LTimplore you to pity the pain of my position. I tell you ra will be your slave !” “I want no slave!” retorted the ludy, with flaming scorn, and shrinking {rom his touch. “Thou hast chosen. Farewell !” She turned away with the grace of an in- sulted Sultana, and the door was shut in his face, and he was left in darkness, with in- numerable distracting thoughts tor compa- nions. CHAPTER XIV. AHAB VISITS HIS MASTER IN PRISON. Instead of being carried to the torture- chamber on the foliowing day, as he expect- ed, he received no visits except from his jail- er; and, in short, a month passed away with- out any Change in his condition, or any fur- ther intimatiou of the tate in store for him. His food was of the coarsest and most unpal- atable description, barely suilicient to keep off the pains of hunger. This kind of existence grew irksome be- yond degree. He was anxious to know what gion ; and I know not how fur I might prove | Perish, | 13 “Tt is all the same! Dreams, my master, are as good as realities, any day. Yet this is no nightmare ; your deyoted Ahab stands in your presence, with his wit and his legs as much as ever at your service. I am nota _ fair-weather servant only, but one that will | stick to you through the ugliest storms that human fortune is liable to.” The Moorish youth fingered the young | shoots of what was to be a beard, and mani-« fested the sang troid that distinguished him from all others. “lam right glad to see you, Ahab. The old King has used me roughly, as you see. How did you gain access to me ?” “It is simple enough to a person of my wit. The mother of Boabdil dwells in uais tower, and it was by getting inforniation to her through one of her maidens, that I finally accompiished my purpose. I am now in the service of her rival Sultana, Zoroya, and a likelier page you cannot find in Granada. This piece of business done, a ring procured from her, by the greatest art and ingenuity, enabled me to dispatch-the most essential part of my errand to the Alhambra, which. was to obtain an interview with you.” “Thanks, faithful boy! If I but escape from this difficulty, no other page will I have but Ahab the Witty.” “Your godship is very likely to. escape, but with this one drawback and disadvan- , tage; that you will get away without your head ; and {I should be loth to serve a master without ahead. But we ought not to trouble ourselves about these matters. As I have often told you, no accidents ever happen. If it be written that your head be cut off, you are better without a head than with; and ought to be the last person to find fault, either before or afer the event.” Ahab adjusted his dagger in his belt, and | tucked up his cimetar with praiseworthy un- | concern. “T have many questions to ask. Speak to me of Boabdil and his sister.” “ Which shall I come at first 2” “ The lady,” replied Sir Raoul, smiling. “The last I heard of the lady, she was as lively as a cricket,” quoth Ahab. “Thou art a most unromantic knaye !” said Raoul. “ Boabdil I saw not many days ago, and he sent by me this message: Tell my fiend, and brother, Sir Raou) Mornay, that I ab- solve him from every obligation ‘o keep faith . with me, and that I will hold myself in readi- ness to be delivered to the King, my father, at such time and place as he shall appoint, on condition that he obtain liberty through Was passing in the world trom which he was | excluded. The Christian and the Infidel were doubtless in arms, and the Crescent and the Cross meeting in the shock of batile. He was harassed with continual uncertainty, and haunted by the wildest conjectures re- specting Boabdil and Leohne. He was brooding over these subjects one night, when his prison-door (as had happen- ed on two occasions since his incarceration) was opened by other than his keeper. ‘Tue movements of the visitor stealthy, as if a greater measure of secrecy was required than ordinary. It was Ahab the Witty who came in this cautious man- ner. Never was servant and friend more unexpected or more welcome. Entering, he locked himselt in with his master. “Die youth was much changed in his outward seeming. Raoul now beheld him in the gay dvess of a page, which transformed him so entirely, that had it not been for his calm, phlegmatic face, he would not have recog- nized him. “Is it you, Ahab?” exclaimed the knight, joyfully. “Surely, I must be dreaming !” . days of your life.” | of me. this means.’ In short, my master, the mag- , nificent Moor will change places with you; which, considering the extreme ticklishness ol the whole business, 1s an excellent offer,” “Generous Boubdil!” exclaimed Mornay., “Go back, good Ahab, and tell him to look’ well to his own safety, and take no thought The offer is noble, but no torture in prospective can tempt me to accept it.” | “Torture in prospective,” rejoined Ahab, “the way I look at iv, is a very different thing. from terture in reality. 1 can bear torture in- prospective as well as another; but bring me the real thing, and I sial! pellow like a bull, ~ and wish the whole posse of them at the devil. My master, take the advice of a fool, and. let this unlucky Prince step into your shocs as soon as he can get to them. After that ou can put that iron pot on your head, with” the bail under your chin, and go about lanc- ing folks to your heart’s content. When you ; have done enough of this to make yourself , feared, envied, and hated by uy ich you can wed the Princess and live happy all the The Prince,” added Raoul, without heed- ing the remarks of Ahab, “if he observe not. i « _ the strictest prudence, will fall into the hands _ Of his ruthless father.” were silent and | “ He has fallen into something worse than the hands of his father,” observed Ahab. “ He has fallen in love !” : “Tn love!” repeated Mornay. - “The same,” said Ahab. “ And a person had better fall into the sea, or into the fire. A wet person may be dried, and one that is burned may be healed ; but whoever heard of any one’s recovering from love ?” ““ Who is the favored lady ?” asked Raoul, quickly. sen “The daughter of Sadoc. The poor Prince _ , does nothing but wander up and down the . vestibule of the stone palace, muttering. to - himself, and seeing nothing, though it be two ) —————— so SS eee ess
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14 that star of maidens, Salome. But, what is the odds? It is all the same!” “ Now, faithful Ahab, you truly alarm me!” said Mornay, with emphasis. “ At this mo- iment I feel most acutely the loss of liberty. Should Boabdil and his sister be betrayed to the King of Granada, I should never sleep soundly again. Not even the blast of the trumpet that should summon me to the field where spurs are won and lances broken, would have any music in my ears. Oh, Ahab, what would I not give for freedom !” “In my view, you are thinking more of the sister than the brother ; for I cannot think so badly of your taste as that you would go mad for an unlucky Moor, not of your religion. But that is not the matter. You want your lib- erty. The quicker you obtain il, and the far- ther you go trom Granada, the safer you’ll be.” “T'rue in substance, but difficult of solu- tion,” said Sir Raoul, thoughtfully. “ You inform me that you are in the service of Zo- roya, favorite Sultana of the King. Now. the situation must have been of no easy attain- ment. I am astonished at you success, for the influence of Boabdil’s mother, who is lit- tle better than a prisoner in the same tower, must necessarily be inconsiderable. There is some secret at the bottom of this. De- scribe the person of this idolized wife, who wields such power over Aben Hassan ; for I “What is to be done?” asked Mornay, startled at this discovery. “I would not in- volve you in my fate.” “T never was at a loss in my life. I know that what 1s to be will be; and it is all the same !” The Moorish lad’s wonderful coldness ap- peared ip no manner disturbed. He drew out his dagger and examined it, then pushed it Slowly into its sheath, and unlocking the door without noise, opened it suddenly. A swarthy slave stood unmasked and confused before them. Ahab sprang on him, and struck him in the breast with his dagger. The unfortunate wretch sank to the earth with a hollow moan, and after a few convuls- ive movements, ceased to breath. “ He will never tell what he has heard,” said Ahab, wiping his weapon, and returning it to his belt. “Thou art a bold, quick lad, and I freely own that I have underrated both thy wit and thy courage.” Ni It is.all the same,” answered Ahab, stoic- Buy. “What will you do with that lump of | earth ?” asked Mornay. “No more than I have already done. I | will not soil my hands with it. “Let it re- main for others to bury. It is of no import- shrewdly suspect that the Prince owes more | of his misfortunes to her jealousy than to the predictions of the astrologers.” “My mistress is whiter than a white dove, lovelier than the dawn, and floats abou. the | ardens of the Alhambra like a houri from aradise. She can speak sweetly and fairly, and her anger is fatal to those that offend her She has as much authority in the palace as the King himself, and you may see any day his signet-ring on her snowy finger.” The Knight of the Red Cross arose and walked his prison, visibly agitated. He thought of the midnight-visit of that mysteri- | | | ous lady, who, with the smile of aseraph and | witchery of a siren, had offered him love and life and liberty ! influential Sultana? who had thrones ? the astounding conviction. His mind sug- gested query after query. Did the Sultana speak like a woman who barters all for one mad passion, or did she but try him with words of guile? He was disposed to accept the first, and more complimentary to human | nature, view of her conduct. “ Ahab,” he said, abruptly, “show me the ting that enabled you to pass the guards, and procured the key from the jailer ?” Ahab held up his hand. “It is the same,” cried Mornay. “ What is the same, my master ?” “Tam in doubt whether to trust you with @ secret of so much importance,” answered Mornay. “You will save me the trouble of finding it out myself, if you take me into your conti- et But is a hoo same.” . u rsuaded that he could rely upon the fidelity vay i formed him of the nocturnal visit of the lady and her object, describing as well as he could her fi , features, voice, and manner. “T know so little of fine ladies,” observed Ahab, “that I am not certain whether, when they say Yes, they mean No, or whether, | when they say No, they mean Yes. Their tempers change so suddenly, that you seldom know what to expect from them. Usually their anger is short and their love long. Stay a woman's anger for a day, and ten to one if it ever kindles again. To scorn the love of an ordinary damsel, is bad enough ; but to reject that of a Sultana, is a thousand- fold worse. My master, it dont appear to my y of Ahab, the knight briefly in- | poor wit that you will ever regain your free-_ dom. The have the love made a jest of by the knights of Spain.” “ Ahab, your sense excels your wit.” “ Hush!” whispered the youth, making a warning gesture, and approaching the door on his toes. He returned to Mornay in a mo- ment. “I heard some one breathing outside,” he added, softly. ‘Iam very acute of hear- ing. No cat has more vigilant ears.” roud Sultana would not care to e of her protlered and rejected | ance whatever. Slaves perish in the Alham- bra daily, without exciting inquiry. Burden not your mind with the circumstance, for it troubles no one in the tower. The carrion will be taken away; some one will jestingly ask how it happened, and that will be the end. Satisfy your conscience with the fact that he was in the secret service of the Sul- tana, Zoroya. Our conversation would have been repeated, and I should have been flung from the battlements of the tower, had not my dagger stopped his tongue. It was thus i | | written. I must leave you, my master.” “If you distrust Sadoe, the Jew, find some way to put the Prince en his guard,” said Mornay. “If the Israelite comes to Granada, I shall be likely to discover him. If my suspicions of him are well founded, my mistress will know of any compact or agreement which | may be made for t ral of j Was thia the heloved and’ may be made for the betrayal of Boabdil , and Was this the woman | ower to shape the destinies of | e dared not immediately receive | if her woman’s tongue don’t let out the se- | cret, it will be miraculons For your sake I will watch everything that occurs at the pal- ace, and communicate the same to you. I must not tarry longer. May the Prophet bring you speedy comfort and relief !” ith this friendly benediction, Ahab turn- ed the key upon Sir Raoul and departed. CHAPTER XV. TORTURE-CHAMBER. A few days after Ahab’s visit, Sir Raoul Mornay was taken from his dungeon, and | conducted toa large square apartment not | far from it. The nature and uses of this | piace were at once apparent. Implements | that he had never before seen, machines that he had never heard of, and horrible engines without names, met his gaze on every side. He regarded all these appalling appointments with a firm countenance. The Moorish chief, El] Zagal, stood, like a dusky statue, against a column; while four | lusty slaves, with bodies bared to the waist, | waited, with a sort of ferocious sullenness, the orders of their superiors. Mornay re- membered that he was an English knight, and prepared himself to endure with forti- tude the sufferings which he could not avert, and the penalties which he did not merit. * Wilt thou confess ?” demanded El Zagal. “ What shail 1 contess ?” asked Sir Raoul. “ Nay, if thou standest on terms, 1 will | put the question in different form. Wilt thou cease to conceal ?” “ The interrogatory is most vague.” El Zagal, who was looking at Mornay when he pronounced these words, saw him start and become suddenly pale. Abaddon and Zegrim had entered together. The com- ing of those singular persons had a powerful effect on Sir Raoul’s mind. He bowed slightly to the magician, and turned his regards upon that mysterious youth, Zegrim. Notwith- standing the latter’s face and hands were stained with the juices of plants, the features were unmistakably like those of the lady who had come to him in his prison. Let what, ! | treachery. ———————S a The demeanor of the disgusted lady confirmed him in his determination ; for she noticed him no more than on former occasions. Her eyes were downcast, her manner self-occupied and modest. “ You have come,” said Mornay, calmly. addressing the magician, “to witness the truth of your predictions. I know not what strength God may give me; but I shall en- deavor tg bear my sufferings with the forti- tude and resignation of a Christian knight and an innocent man. When your own hour of pain comes, may it find your conscience as clear as mine.” He looked at El Zagal, and added * Let your sullen hounds begin !’’ “ 1 ail here, not so much to test the truth of my art, as to see how one so vainglorious | when in the full enjoyment of the healthful functions of life, will bear the sgonies which | he affected to despise,” answered Abaddon, | his cold eyes glittering. “Tf this be your only purpose, you are welcome. May you be less satisfied than when the matchlock failed to fulfill your Were I King of Granada, you and your swindling brethren shouid dangle from the Alhambra s highest walls |” “ Worthy Abaddon,” interrupted El Zagal, |“ be ready to take down, in characters, this Christian's confession. Slaves, lay hold of him, and let us try his nerves with a sinew- | testing machine.” Mornay invoked all the saints, commended | his soul to God, and submitted unresistingly to the tormentors. In a few moments, his manly form was stretched upon the rack, and the slaves stood waiting at the levers. “ Your name is Sir Raoul Mornay ?” said El Zagal. The knight replied in the affirmative. “Sage Abaddon, write his name at the top of your page. His confession will fol- | low.” “ El Zagal,” said Mornay, “ I have heard of you as a brave and hardy soldier ; and, as _a soldier, | ask you once more what is re- quired of me ?” . The swarthy chief appeared moved by this | appeal. “'Po answer like a soldier,” he replied. “ We wish simply to extort from you such information as may lead to the arrest of Ma- homet Abdallah, also called Boabdil. This is the main part of the inquiry, and its truth- ful exposition will assure your liberty ; while obstinacy will as surely result in your de- struction. Shall I proceed or stay my hand ?” “ Do as your master bids you. My honor seals my lips.” Zegrim had imperceptibly neared the machine ; and with the coiled lamp in his hand, the two red jets darting upward, like the angry tongue of the reptile it represented, contrived to atract the attention of the prin- cipal agent in operating the engine. Mornay could not tell whether he addressed any words to the slave; but he did see a threat- ening glitter in his eyes that awed the trem- bling vassal. El Zagal lifted his hand, the great rollers moved, the pulleys creaked, and Mornay felt a tension on his limbs. El Zagal bent over him to adjust some of the mechanism. As he did so, he whispered : “ Groan, Sir Raoul !” This command was so extraordinary that Mornay knew not what to make of it. The levers continued to work in the hands of the operators. The creaking and com- plaining of the engine went on; but it ap- eared to Mornay that the strain upon his imbs did not proportionately increase. A significa™ gi*nce from El Zagal awakened a suspicion in his mind. Casting his eyes fur- tively toward Abaddon, he saw his brow knotted into a scowl of hate and triumph. The suspicion grew stronger. “ Groan!” repeated El Zagal, again bend- ing over him. mpelled by this advice, and his own con- victions, the knight drew his face into an ex- pression of pain, and began to emit low moans. “Thy boasted manhood melts already,” said the magician, whose blue eyes were id inflamed with some overmastering emo- on. Sir Raoul made no rejoinder.
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“ Methinks you use him but gently, El Za- | gal,” added Abaddon. “ Nearly the whole force of the machine is being exerted upon him. _ It is not the wish of my royal master that I should tear him limb from limb, but to employ suflicient strength to test his endurance and extort his secret,” answered Ei Zagal. “J have no secret,” said Mornay, “ that I will confess, though you try me with your most diabolical instruments. Do not spare me, English flesh and blood are not so poor- ly attempered as to yield to the common | ; a eae - | Ihave recently cast concerning the fate of methods of torture.” « Pronounce not that hateful word! Call him traitor !” cried Abaddon. ‘“ Who is this fellow who is in such hot haste for an au- dience with the King? Gave he no name ?” “ He said: Inform the King of Granada that Sadoc the Jew stands without desiring audience, having most important comm mi- _ cations to make, whereby that apostate and The rigors of the rack were enough to pro- | duce much suffering ; but the additional ef- | forts of the operators increased them in de- | gree so trifling, that he could not but believe there was collusion between them and El Zagal. .How this could be he knew not, though the fact grew momentarily more evi- dent to his perceptions. Perhaps, he rea- soned, he owed this favor ‘o Zegrim, whose heart had relented at the last moment. But there stood the youth, calm and dreamy, with very little apparent realization of what was transpiring. “J am ready to write,” said Abaddon, look- ing meaningly at El Zagal. “Will you reveal the hiding-place of Bo- abdil ?”’ asked the latter, sternly, turning his regards upon Sir Raoul. *“« By the help of God, I will not!” “Wrench him again !” cried the magician, no longer attempting to disguise his maligni- ty. “ Dislocate his joints! crack his sinews! lacerate his muscles!” The leyers worked, the wheels reyolved ; but, from some unaccountable cause, the pain of the ordeal was not augmented. “Speak! speak!” voviferated Abaddon, foaming at the mouth. iarnay, closed his eyes, and moaned lan- guidly. § Helsai ! reveal! Where is the accursed son? Where is the traitor Prince? Where is the woe and downfall of Granada ?” “ Great master,” interposed Zegrim, “ this Christian will mistake your zeal for the King for personal emnity. Your sublime art inculcates the loftiest forbearance and an un ruffled temper.” “Most true,” answered Abaddon “I did forget myself in my boundless love for my sovereign master.” “The knight is about to swoon,” said El Zagal. “We can, with safety, carry this rigor no farther. Slaves, give back!” “ He shall not escape thus!” muttered Abaddon. ‘“ Unloose him! Bring forth the brazier of coals! We will e’en try the plates of hot iron, His feet are of different material trom what I imagine if this chafing-dish do not toast them.” He had lost his momentary self-possession, and relapsed into his former fury. One of the half-naked attendants went to procure the last-mentioned contrivance, which sat in a forge at the extremity of the apartment, ¥ ‘There was a slight change in the face of Aegrim. ‘il Zagal stood uneasily on one foot, then on the other. A shivering sensation crept over the knight as the glowing brazier appeared. Iicre was a punishment there was no means of cvading. Fire, applied to the naked flesh, wold burn, in defiance of all the Zegrims and JG! Zagals in the world.” . But who was this hoary-headed magicia who had so much to do in the household of the King ?, Was he one of those astrologers who ofter worm their way into palaces, and, by their wits and tricks, get possession of the secreis and contidences of sovereigns? This view of the matter did not entirely satisfy Mornay, who noted with unfeigned surprise the power which he wielded over the mighty chief El Zagal. The English knight was now seized and bound into an iron cluir. Zegrim looked on unmoyed, while the Chiet displayed less alacrity than before. Si Raoul’s feet were bared, andthe hissing vessel. was being placed beneuth them, when a page rashe breathlessly into the chamber of torture, ex- claiining : * ‘there is one arrived at the pal- ace wilo desires iustautly to see the King! Lis business admits of no delay. This news concerns Boabdil.” il Zagal pushed the brazier aside with his fovi wuile Abaddon was listening to the page. traitor, Mohamet Abdallah, otherwise Bo- abdil, may be delivered into his hand,” an- swered the page. “The King,” said Abaddon, “ is in his se- cret chamber, examining a horoscope that his kingdom and the time of his son’s death. Come with me, Sir Page, and you shall de- liver your singular message to him in person. | El Zagal,” he turned to the war-wor'h vete- ran, “suspend these proceedings till you learn how this information affects the mind of the King.” Mornay was greatly disturbed by what he heard. The name of Sadoc the Jew gave him far more uneasiness than the rack. The captjity of the Israelites was well under- stood by him. For gold now in the coffers of Aben Hassan, he would betray the fugi- tives, who had trusted life and honor in his keeping. The warning of Ahab was instant- ly remembered. Boabdil slain, and the Prin- cess Leoline incarcerated in the tomb, his love and his hopes would alike be vain. While these reflections agitated him, Abad- don departed. Zegrim tarried. El Zagal, haying ordered the slaves to unbind him, turned his back on him for a moment, and the knight determined to speak to the youth, whatever might come of it. Stooping toward that anomalous person, he said : , * Feared you not I would betray you, ady ?” “T feared nothing. What had I to fear, stout-hearted Sir Raoul?” The factitious Zegrim looked at him innocently. “ From me, lady, you had little indeed to apprehend ; but there are those who, in my place, would have done you shame in the Sear gs of yonder warrior and that gray- eaded magician. But your secret is safe.” “ It seems to me, Sir Knight, that you jest too soon after the torture.” She tossed her head, and her eyes glittered. “I have no se- cret that might not be proclaimed from the highest tower of the Alhambra.” “ Lady,” returned Mornay, gravely, “ you cannot deceive me, though your voice be soft as silver cymbals, and your manner as de- mure as the saintliest saint. I speak it sor- rowlully. I could not rewurn that priceless treasure which you generously proffered, and of which I was unworthy.” F “This insolence confounds me! I am amazed! Has this child's play,” she pointed to the rack, “ turned your head and scattered your senses! Beware how you go further with your presumption! The brazier still glows, and the slaves are within call.” Her red lips quivered slightly, her cheeks crimsoned, and her eyes rained scorn and | contempt- * Menaces from so sweet a mouth,” resum- ed Mornay, “cannot alarm me. I am no dupe. I know you well—your name, rank, and power.” ; The foot of the disguised lady beat angrily upon the floor. With her mantling indigna- tion there now mingled an emotion that was not unlike fear. “Tf you know so much,” she answered, | with a self-control that was extraordinary, “speak out. I dare you to fulfill your boast !” “The beauty of Zoroya, the Light of Dawn, | the favorite and all-powerful Sultana of the King of Granada, is suflicient to betray her in any guise she may assume.” The knight’s voice was low, almost tender. Zoroya did not speak till the lapse of some seconds. Either she was unable to enunci- ate, or feared her accents might betray too much agitation. “Your audacity,” she answered, anon, “runs higher than the tallest spires of the palace. Your head I should instantl y order to be stricken off and cast into the Darro. Or perhaps, which is better, 1 should command you to be hurled from the battlements. I know not what saves you from destruction. I ask in vain what prolongs your existence.” She clenched her hands in her excitement, | to Jook as modest as a girl. and revenge and love tortured her breast. “Proud Sultana,” responded Sir Raoul, | mournfully, and with that touch of gentle compassion ever irresistible to the ears of The Knights of the Red Cross. 15 women, “I could answer thy queries, if I | shrank not from wouading a nature so sensi- tive and imperious as thine... Beautiful lady, you were a woman before you were a.queen.” He waited a little, but the Sultana was mule. “T should well merit the death you have named, if, by word or deed of mine; I should _make you feel that you have compromised your honor as a woman, or your dignity asa queen, by anything that may have_ passed between us. Understand, lady, the chivalry of an English knight. 1 worship your sex, and instead of giving cause of complaint, am ready to devote my arm, on all proper,occa- sions, to the redressing of wonian’s wrongs.” “Speak no more! My mind is not yet de- cided. Your fate isin my hands. ‘That you, | will never leave the Alhambra, is certain. . I profess to understand nothing that you have uttered. I say not what is true or what is false. My anger is not a thing that burns out ina day; it is wont to consume all that oppose it.” These words were pronounced hurriedly, for El Zagal was approaching. Striking his hands thrice together, the guard appeared, and Sir Raoul was reconiucied to his prison. CHAPTER XVL SADOC AT THE ALHAMBRA. Ahab, the Witty, was walking one day in, the famous Court of Lions, when he. saw an old man sitting beneath a: fig-tree. Ahab was dressed in that gay attire which. has be- fore been noticed, and, perchance, in compli- ance with the foppery and effeminacy of that period among the ciass to which he now osten-, sibly belonged, or, possibly, from some.othe1 motive, his face was materially changed by paints and pigments, which not only gave) hima more youthful look, but quite trans, formed his plain features. With his plumed, cap placed jauntily on his head, his dagger in his broidered belt, his cimetar, by his. side, he rambled daintily toward the man under the fig-tree, in whose sharp nose, avaricious mouth, cunning eyes, and prominent chin he _ recognized Sadoe, the Jew. Ahab was secretly filled with exultation | at this discovery, and took a turn around one | ofthe fountains before he. felt himself sufti- | led him to expect such an event. ciently phlegmatic to address him. .To make a faithful statement, the quaint lad. had for some time been on the watch for the: appear- ance of the Israelite, having received, from time to time, information from Nicolette that his eyes into the marble basin. and _ seeing his entire figure reflected there, he had no misgivings respecting the entire complete- ness of his disguise. He drew near to Sadoe, made as if he would pass him, turned,, stopped, and, playing with the hilt of his dag- ger, said, carelessly : f “A fine day, old man. May the Prophet, be pusiees 5 x usr alle ” “Tt is a fine day, outh, and ma e God of Israel be ct ook 2 , . “ With all my heart,” replied Ahab. “ You. seem a stranger in the Alhambra ?” - | |. “3am; for it hath been long since I was Casting | : - here. Lamau sojourner and wayfarer, with. / my stail in my hand,” said Sadoc, in a hum- ble tone. “Can I do you any service, venerable | stranger ?” inquired Ahab, patronizingly. : “ Thou seemest in authority here. 1 doubt not thy ability to speed me on my. < _ Possibly thou art of the King’s household?” The crafty eyes of the Israelite were fixed , on Ahab, who did not forget that he was deal-., _ing with one not wanting in subtlety... ..., | “I perceive that | your sight nor enfeebled your judgment. 1 am, as you suspect, in the household of the King. 1 am not, as you may possibly’ im-. the most ravishing sultana in the world; and if you know aught of the management of this, kingdom, you are aware that she is the real sovereign, and by her witcheries winds the. King round her finger like a ringlet of her own magnificent hair. If you wish» favor at | court, ae have come to the right person.” Ahab folded his arms, threw his head back, , strutted a little, at ihe same time endeavoring “May He who appeared unto: Moses: at Mount Siani zewapd; you. for your fair , Speech! But, as I told you, 1 am.a stranger | within these gates, and it behooveth me to age hath not dimmed . : agine, a prince, but a page in the service of | SS
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\ = visitor to the King’s palace. 16 The Knights of the Red Cross. exercise much care, lest 1 be taken in my own simplicity. I am desirous to stand in the presence of the King of Granada, having somewhat to communicate unto him which may be of importance to the State.” “lam glad,” responded Ahab, in a most friendly manner, “thai you have coniided this matter to me. What is your religion, old man ?” “{ am an Israelite, in whom there is no guile,” responded Sadoc; “1 belong to a people who have little rest, and, like those of | old, wander about in sheep-skins and goat- skins, and hide themselves in caves and cletts | of the rocks.” “ Your religion will not commend you to | the King; but my good oflices shall make | the way clear. You shall remain here to- night, and, perhaps, a day or two, or until such time as I can say a word privately to the Sultana, my misiress, who can do more | for you than any at court.” “ Nay, young Sir, my business is urgent, and of a nature to be pleasing in the sight of the King.” The old man spoke with earnestness. “Tf that be the case,” returned Ahab, “ we must devise some other plan. Perhaps, if you could hint to me the character of your busi- ness, 1 might, in time, hint the same to my mistress, so that it would not be long in get- ting to the ears of the King.” “Are kings, then, so difficult of access ?” asked Sadoc, anxiously. “There is nothing more difficult, respected | Sir, than to get at a King. I have known | rsons to pass three years in the Tower of omares without once seeing him.” Ahab was probably thinking of the many prisoners confined in the Tower. “God of my fathers!” sighed Sadoc, “kings are but mea; and though they may fence themselves about with forms and cere- monies, pomps and vanities, they are subject to the same ills, the same sicknesses, the same accidents, and the same death.” “True as the Koran!” exclaimed Ahab. “ What is thy faith?” asked the Jew. “ That which is most convenient. I ama Christian among Christians; a Jew among Jews; &@ Mohammedan among Mohamme- duns. I am young, but I find this wisest and best. Where I cannot be of two religions at the same time, I am nothing. When ques- tioned, I answer that I have not wit enough to decide on matters of such vast consequence, but leave them to those who have more wis- dom than L” “ Verily, young page, thou art discreet ; and I do not mind telling thee that my errand concerns one for whose head there is seta great price. Did Muley Aben Hassan mis- | trust on what errand I come, be would hasten from. lis palace to meet me and do me honor.” | “If this be the case,” said Ahab, thought- fully, “I know of but one thing that could | interest him so much; and that concerns a certain apostle and traitor, who is hidden in | the mountains and cannot be found.” Sadoc looked grave ; then, rising from be- | neath the fig-tree, and taking the youth by the | arm, said : “Thou art no fool, young Sir. If thou dost | not rise to distinction, it will be because thy merits are overlooked. Thou hast hit the nail on the head. ‘The character of my com- munications you have shrewdly solved. But, mind you, I say naught of a certainty. I do not stiri that I know definitely the abiding- place—or, more fittingly, the hiding-place— of this Moorish fugitive, or this Prince; yet | I could give a very useful jacguies, and, peradventure, by my counsel and advice, guide the great King of Granada to the ac- complishment of his desires.” Lhe old man’s eyes twinkled cunningly. “ Venerable Israelite, the Prophet himself hath inspired you! Had you come from the Seventh Heaven you could not be a more wel- You will receive riches and honors. You will re- turn to your home and kindred laden with gold. I pray you, in your prosperity, which urely counted on, that you have me in some remembrance.” “You truly believe that my errand wiil | have speed ?” . Sadoc’s small eyes expressed the avaricious- | ness of his soul. “Such good speed, son of Abraham, that I should like to give you a thousand pistoles for half the venture. I know the munilicence of: He may receive you gruflly at first; but when you leave the Alhambra, finally, you will go forth in raiment of bro- cade, seated on an Arabian horse, with a slave behind you leading another Arabian horse loaded with gifts. Sage Israelite, 1 have fifteen hundred doblars; accept them, and give me your secret.” Ahab clapped his hands on his pockets and beneath his silken doublet ; questionless, he was searching for the doblars. It was now that the Jew’s visage really began to express the feelings of his heart; and not only his face, but his whole person, his very fingers quivering with expectation. Ahab had skillfully touched the overmastering pas- sion of his being. The eccentric youth in- wardly exulted to see the o’erstrained chords respond. “T came not to bargain with you, sha youth, but with the King, your master. drive not trades with children; but I have traded, ere now, with kings, when extrava- gances or reverses have pressed them to the wall. Iam nota hard man, yet I hold it no sin to take advantage of the hour and the cir- cumstance.” Ahab, who was never long in forming con- clusions, had rate! made up his mind what todo. One of the King’s pages at that mo- ment issued from the Garden of Lindaraxa. and was crossing the Court of Lions. Ahab hailed him. “This worthy Hebrew,” quoth he, “ would see the King. His errand concerns the fugi- tive Prince.” “ What is he called ?” asked the page, re- garding him superciliously. “ Names are of no account,” answered the Jew, warily. “Then,” replied the page. “ your errand is of no account, and you inay take it yourself.” “God forbid that I should be ashamed of my name!” returned the Jew, seeing the error he had committed. “ Inform the King of Granada that Sadoc the Jew stands with- out, desiring an audience, having most im- portant communications to make, whereby that apostate and traitor, Mahomet Abdallah, otherwise Boabdil, may be delivered into his hands.” The page stared at the old man a brief space, and then ran away, with a speed more complimentary to his heels than his dignity. “Your business,” said Ahab, still preserv- ing his friendly demeanor, “is as good as done. That is the most tonguey fellow in the alace. What his memory cannot furnish, imagination will supply, so that you need be under no concern about your matter getting an airing with the King.” “ You told me a short time ago that it was the most trying of all undertakings to get speech with a sovereign,” remarked the Jew, sagaciously. Ahab winked about a dozen winks, and extricated himself with masterly skill. “That vexatious delay happens when there are no pages to speak a good word for the | stranger, and when bis business tallies neither with the avarice nor the malice of the mon- arch.” At the expiration of half an hour o_ ) interval was passed by Ahab and the Jew in amiable conversation), the page returned, bar breathless, and bade Sadoc follow him. He left Ahab without a word of parting civility, and hurried on his treacherous mis- sion. The Moorish youth unsheathed first his dagger and then his cimetar, replacing both carefully. “An Arabian horse, a slave, and another Arabian horse! |#:hink I see that slave and those horses! But all will be as it is written, and as it was destined to be a million years ago. Some will die and some will not; some will be kings and some subjects ; some will betray and some will be betrayed. But it is all the same!” Ahab surveyed his reflected image once more in the water, and walked placidly fro the Court of Lions. CHAPTER XVIL. THE MOORISH PRINCE SURRENDERS TO SALOME. Boabdil, after the departure of Sir Raoul for the Alhambra, passed several days in tranquil meditation and friendly discourse — with his sister. The relief of feeling safe was inexpressibly grateful ; and his grati- tude not only extended to the Jew but to his Day afier day, the Prince and yn zea . Leoline wandered, arm in arm, and explored together the mysteries ol the stone chambers. Occasionally, Salome joined them in their walks—her graceful and modest demeanor and charming conversation adding not a lit- tle to the enjoyment of the fugitives. The fair-haired and melancholy Boabdil grew hourly more interested in the Jewess. He sighed often, and fixed his eyes upon the ground, which symptoms were by the an- cients interpreted as signs of love. Leoline noticed his abstraction, and rallied him upon his taciturnity ; but neither jest nor advice were suflicient to restore him to his former self. He had few opportunities of being alone with Salome. Sadoc was ever present ; he followed them like a pale shadow, | till the Prince grew annoyed with his intru- sions. On a few occasions, he had opportunity to address her; the first and second he neg- lected, the third he improved. They were in what was termed the Chamber of Fountains, listening to the plash and murmur of falling waters. Sadoe was in his stables, and Leo- line was taking a siesta in the crimson cham- ber. The heart of the Moorish Prince could not withstand the divine eyes of Salome. He who was born to wield a sceptre trembled like a boy in the presence of beauty. “ ] have lost a throne!” said Boabdil, pen- sively. 60 are not the first that has suffered 3 similar misfortune,” answered Salome. “] have lost more than a throne,” added Boabdil, his gentle and mournful eyes direct- ed to the ceiling. Conscious embarrassment distressed the Jewess. She had never heard the words of flattery, yet her instincts warned her what to expect. A woman ofien apprehends what she has never learned by experience. A scarlet dye suffused her cheeks. She would have arisen had not Boabdil detained her. “ Kemain with me a moment, fascinatin maiden! Hear a confession which wil neither disgrace me nor shame thee.” “} entreat of you to be silent,” said Sa- lome, imploringly. “That may not be. I would not again lose an opportunity which may never occur again. ‘The stranger, the fugitive, the debtor to your hospitality, here presumes to avow his love for you—a love which he firmly be- lieves true and eternal !” The Prince paused, and ineffable earnest- ness and tenderness shot from his dreamy eyes. * You know not what you do! Youknow not what you say!” answered Salome, much moved. “We differ in outward circum- | stances; we belong to two races of men; our educations and habits are dissimilar. You | area Moslem; 1 am an Israeclitish maiden. The abyss between us is impassable !” Salome’s agitation encouraged Boabdil. “Say not impassable! Wao should raise _ objections if we do not? Each must be un- happy or miserable for himself. If you and / I, glorious Salome! unite in sweet and eter- nal companionship, who has a right to con- | plain ?” His expressive eyes drew her like magnets. She thrilled beneath a power she had never | before experienced. Pain and pleasure were strangely commingled in her virgin bosom. “My ‘father! my father!” she exclaimed, as if icarful of her own resolution. “ Thy father, divine Salome! is enfeebled by age, and embittered by persecution. Think for thyself, beloved! Let not another steal from tuee the sacred prerogative of choice.” ‘Lue accents of the Prince were tender be- yond description. His whole soul glowed with the fervor of passion. “ My father, O stranger, was my earliest monitor and friend. He taught my infantile tongue to — and my feeble feet to walk. Wuat do I not owe him? He wishes not another to live in my thoughts. He looks with jealousy upon thee. He hates thy relig ion; he distrusts thy purpose. Of late, he is not himself. Although his wealth exceeds the desires of a prince, his love of gold is unsatisfied.” Salome, for the first time since they had _ met, looked earnestly into his eyes. There was something she wished him to compre- hend, which she had not strength to utter. “Salome,” sighed Boabdil, “thy truth, thy unsullied innocence, thy immaculate honesty, subdues me more and more. With- out thee I should, indeed, be miserable !’” Boabdil covered his face with his hands. |
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ss “ Who art thou ?” asked Salome, solemnly. “ Lady!” answered the son of a king, melted to a woman’s tenderness, “ thy voice compels me to truth. Iam Boabdil, son of Muley Aben Hassan, King of Granada, and heir to his magnificent throne. But were I to choose between the throne and thee, the throne would never be mine.” Boabdil sank on his knees, and caught the white hand of Salome, who, overcome by a a new and delicious emotion, had not the strength to repel him. At that inopportune moment, Sadoc, like a wrinkled phantom, appeared in the Chamber of Fountains. Salome, with a sob and a sigh, closed lier eyes and swooned. The cries of Sadoc brought Leoline to the spot, whose wisely-directed efforts presently restored the beautiful Jewess to consciousness. With a woman’s tact and a sister's friendship, she sent the Jew on a dozen useless errands, to spare the excuses of her brother, and the biushes of Salome. “'Tlrast not too much to my father,” she whispered, with painful reluciance. “ Tell him not your secret. Contide only—only in me.’ ‘These few words gave the Prince unalloyed pleasure. ‘The first step toward success was po —there was a secret and a trust between em. “It was the chilliness of the fountains,” said Leoline, chaiing Salome’s hands. “It never affected her before,” said Sadoc. “\So much the better,” said Leoline. “I wonder that she has never been ill with it.” “ L observed,” returned Sadoe, dryly, “ that the fountains affected your brother also. He was ou his knees when I surprised them.” “ How devoted of him! She would un- doubtelly have fallen, had he not inter- posed i replied Leoline, with exquisite ad- ress. “ God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob !” ex- claimed Sadoge, lilting his Lands, voice, and brows simultaneously. “ One is to see with- out believing !” Leoline and the maid Nicolette spirited away Salome to the crimson chamber, leay- ing the Hebrew pale with surprise and ill- couceuled anger, CHAPTER XVIIL BADOC AND SALOME. After the ioregoing scene, Salome’s dread of her father grew stronger and more pal- pable to those who observed her closely. She never met him without anxious and question- ing looks. He began to avoid being alone with her, and was often remarked in a mus- ing, abstracted attitude, as if engaged in some obtuse and diificult calculation. Salome liked not these omens, and availed herself of the first opportunity to attempt to fathom his thoughts. The old man would have walked away hurriedly, but she de- tained him. “Fly me not, my father!” she said, with affectionate earnesiness. “‘Phou concealest something from me !” “ Nay, daughter, thou mistakest my man- ner,” he answered, evasively, without lifting his eyes to hers. “My father, deceive me not!” exclaimed Salome, impressively. “Speak not of deception ; it is thou who hast deceived. I is thou who hast lent a willing ear to the tempter! It is thou who hast forgotten the God of thy fathers, and listened to the wily tongue of the infidel! Thou hast brought a reproach on the house of Israel! Oh that I had turned this artful stranger from my gates, even with blows and revilings!” Sadoc spoke with vehemence and _ bitter- ness. “ Thou chargest upon me too much,” said Salome, with calmuess. “1 have had no stolen meetings with the stranger who is with us. What passed between us mm the Chamber of Fountains thou knowest.” “Thou hast poured poison into my veins, and given me to drink of the bitter waters, Accursed be the day when he crossed our threshold and broke bread with us!” an- swered Sadoc, wringing his hands and beat- ing his breast. “ Hear me with reason, my father. The Moor, Abdallah, hath ever deported himselt toward me in the most respectful fashion. Nay, often his reverence for me borders’on idolatry and worship of the creature. Some- times L have entertaincd great fear lest he exalt me, in his imagination, above-the law- ' of ounces of precious ore. | with a soft sigh. “Soul of my father!” cried Sadoc, impa- | tiently. “ Hear the girl’s simplicity! Hear Hear her unwittingly contess her guilt!” “ Guilt, father ?” “Ay, guilt, my daughter; for thou hast received the worship of this heathen dog without rebuke; and not only without re- buke, but with simpering complaisance and maiden blushes, which convey more coinfort to the heart of man than lisping words,” said | the Jew, trembiing from heau to foot. Sa- lome had rarely seen him so moved. “T meant rot to err, and I could but listen, being taken unexpectedly and by surprise. It were not seemly to cry out, and courtesy required that I should give respectful atten- tion to what the courtly Moor had to offer in his own behalf.” The face of the Jewess had now lost some- what of its serenity, and there was a deeper flush on her cheeks and brow. “T have nursed thee, Salome, as the apple of mine eye. In thee are centred my hopes. For thee I have accumulated great riches. Thou canst command more gold and silver and precious stones than the King of Granada hath this day in his treasury. They that know me think me poor and miserable, hunt- ed down into the dregs and very beggary of life. Child!” he stretched forth his right hand exultingly, “thou canst found a city ; thou canst supply kings with treasures to carry on their wars, and yet have a sufliciency left to make thy heritage the envied of all. Yet what art thou doing? Receiving the worthless incense of a vagrant infidel! Thou, a princess in the house of David! Thou, the pride and beauty of Israel! Thoa, the star of the daughters of Judah !” As he went on, the old man gradually grew impassioned, and by the time he had finish- ed, he stood with hands clasped before him, and his eyes, glowing like sparks of fire, turned upward. This sudden gleam of in- spiration surprised even Salome, who had often seen him in moments of exaltation. Neither were aware that they were not alone; neither suspected that one of the eat columns of the vestibule concealed the | oor, Jakob, Boabdil’s servant. But he was there, drinking in with avidity every word that was uttered. “Thou meanest well, my father, and thou lovest me ; and while thou livest I w.ll not leave thee. Thou hast never before spoken to me so plainly of thy riches I knew thou hadst abundance of silver and gold, but not that it so far exceeded the common gains of men. I fear it will be unto thee a pitiall and asnare. Let but the birds of the air get pos- session of thy secret, and thou wilt be hound- ed down and despoiled, as if thou wert but a carrion-crow ! Oh, my father, put from thee this sore temptation! Cast it into the sea, or hide it in the bowels of the earth, or scatter it among the poor, or fly with it to some for- eign land!” he took his hand, but he drew it angrily away. “What!” he sneered. “ Hast thou no wis- dom? Is thy mind disordered and dis- traught? Thou speakest like one of the fool- ish virgins who went forth to meet the bridegrooms without oil in their lamps, The Knights of the Red Cross. her condemn that thing which she alloweth! | | ful object of man’s adoration,” said the girl, Do it not for his sister’s Sake, for thine, and mine. The curse of God follows treachery. If thou knowest any secret connected with _ this courteous Moor, keep it to thyself.” “Who talks of secrets?” he answered, sharply. “Why do you take me thus to task? Am I not capable of conducting my own affairs? Has not this trembling hand signed contracts with kings and potentates ? Have I not driven bargains with the great ones of the earth? Have not my treasures given new life to the flagging energies of war, decided battles, and changed the tate of states and kingdoms? Ha, ha! Ha, ha! Go to any of the courts of the sovereigns and whisper the name of Sadoc, the Jew, in their ears, and see if they do not start !”’ “I doubt it not. I know thou art great in thy power over money. Be therefore con- tent with thy enormous hoards. Close thy transactions in Granada; gather up thy riches, and let us depart.” Her pleadings were eloquent as an angel's. “That could be done, daughter. The | Stone chamber you wot of contains not a | seventh part of my wealth, but the remainder is bestowed where I can, without much trou- ble, lay hands on it. In the casket which was thy blessed mother’s thou wilt find, in case of my sudden decease, an inventory of all I possess, and where each particular item, property, and valuable is to be found. And now, Salome, sweet image of my sainted Re- bekah, hearken unto my voice. Pluck this infidel, with a strong hand, from thy heart. If thou lovest him, crush and crucify that love. Thou art a princess, and this thing is not to be. My white lamb cannot herd with the dark wolf of Islam!” “ Father, dear father,” sighed Salome, “he may be converted to the true faith. I ma be the humble instrument of enlightening his mind and convicting his understanding.” “The leopard cannot change his spots!” retorted Sadoc, grimly. Salome remembered the Sleeping Leopard on Boabdil’s shield, and had read the device beneath : “ Do not wake me.” “Thou turnest pale,” added Sadoc. “The figure goeth home to thy consciousness. He is indeed a leopard, but he shall not rend my kid! He isa Philistine and a heathen. If he | suddenly cometh to naught, let it not grieve thee.” “If evil come upon him through thy means, directly or indirectly, by word, b deed, by artful insinuation or implication, | Swear to thee, by the God of Israel, that I will esteem him a thousand times more high- ly for that evil.” “ Then may the curses—” “Curse not, my father, curse not! Curses are sent back by the Divine Being to torment those who have the impiety to utter them. They are a dreadful, dreadful brood, those curses returned by the avenging Deity!” Salome stood erect and inspired beiore her father. In the mellow light of the stone chamber her face was seraphic, and her di- vine person worthy of adoration. “Leave me, leave me!” muttered Sadoe, afraid longer to trust himself. “One word more, my father. Remember, in all thou doest, that sweet maiden, his _ sister. Never was earthly dust more perfect- ly molded, or a human spirit more: divinely which, though a Chris‘ion metonhor, is not | without aptness—the oil, no doubt, meaning the treasures of this world. Cast it into the sea? I would sooner cast myself into the | sea! Into the sea? I will accumulate more. I will make thy fortune greater by thousands Ay, there is even now a venture in my mind that will bring me exceeding profit.” Sadoe chafed the dry palms of his hands together, smiled craftily, and forgot his en- thusiasm in greedy longings. The swarthy Jakob stood breathless behind the column, azape with wonder, and shaken with doubt and expectancy. His eager eyes were ready to start from their sockets, and every moment dragged along with the tediousness of an hour. The tear of detec- tion made his limbs tremble beneath him, and it seemed to him that the Jew might _ plainly hear the unnatural thuddings of his heart. “Father! father!” cried Salome, implor- ingly, “ my sleep has been haunted by strange Visions of thee. My feelings admonish me | When you meditate wrong. Do nothing, I ‘warn you, against the peace of Abdallah. attempered. ‘Thy paternal eyes have thought me fair, but her beauty exceedeth mine as the moon exceeds the stars. Notwithstand- ing our different faith, she hath yearned her- sell into my heart, and we have sworn by the God of Solomon (an oath which her con- _ science alloweth), that our two souls are to be as one, and that we will never, of our own free will, separate from each other. Through _ me she will be imperceptibly led to reject the Prophet and worship the God of Israel. Look, my futher! $he comes this way. Saw- est thou ever suci grace of motion, such modesty of look and gracious dignity ?” Sadoc ground his teeth in rage, and turn- ing his back on Salome, strode away, fuil of disappointment and bitterness. CHAPTER XTX. JAKOB 8 SECRET. Those who noticed Jakob, observed that a change had suddenly come over him. He no longer talked cheerfully with Ali and Asaph, but moved about with moody brow and unquiet eye. Ali the Grumbler tried to bring him out of his taciturnity, but without much success. “This is a poor service,” said the sullen
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a Jakob, one day, when Ali had been rallying him on the strangeness of his conduct. “ And why a poor service ?” asked Ali. '“ First, because we serve for nothing ; sec- ond, because the service is dangerous ; these are two very good reasons.” Jakob looked at his fellow-servant to see if there were any signs of discontent on his countenance. “I grumble,” answered Ali, “ because grumbling is my business; and I have grum- bled so many years that I should be loth to leave it off. But I never grumbled because 1 was ill-fed, or ill-clad; and my master was in adversity. The poorer he is, the more closely I will stick to his service.” “If that is your way, I can tell you,” re- plied Jakob, “ that it’s not mine.” “Well, go_cen, and show me what you are coming at. For the lite of me, I cannot yet get an inkling of your real meaning. Speak plain, Jakob, when plainness is required ; for my wit is slow and I come not easily by ideas.” “I intend,” answered Jakob, studiously avoiding the gaze of Ali, “ to seek new serv- ice, and find a master who will give me more money and less danger.” “ Knave!” exclaimed Ali. ‘Iam tempt- ed to break every bone in your body! Would you desert the most indulgent of masters in the hour of trouble? Would you fly, like a miserable coward, and leave him him with none but Asaph and I to draw a dagger for him, to saddle horse or hold stirrup, or to follow him in his sudden flights. Go too for an idle vagabond 1” “Had you given me good words anda friendly ear, I would have put you in a way to make your fortune ; but now may the devil take me if I mention it!” Jakob looked at Ali askance, to see what effect this would have. “IT am at a loss to know what kind of a way that would be you would put me into so easily, unless you designed me to join the banditti that infest the mountains. Perhaps you meditate the betrayal of your master, the Prince ; and if such be your purpose, you had better go and throw yourself from yonder Dire ” crag. Ali's eyes began to glitter, and he fingered | the handle of his dagger. “Thou art a fgol,” muttered Jakob, angri- ly. “J will talk with thee no more, and my secret I will reserve for myself.” This conversation took place in the stables, and made a marked impression on the mind of the sagacious Ali, who was well aware tial the desertion of one of his fellow-servants might bring the greatest danger upon Boab- dil. Had he been sure of the fellow’s sin- cerity, he would have laid him dead on the spot; but thinking his avowal might arise from momentary discontent and il!-temper, he allowed the matter to pass. From that hour the grumbling but faithtul Ali watched, with fox-like cunning, the incoming and out- goings of Jakob. Yet there were seasons when his duty rendered it impossible for him to keep him under observation, and which Jakob shrewdly improved for the advance- ment of his own dark purposes ; a purpose which had its birth behind the column, when Sadoc avowed the possession of great wealth. Lhe Jew, from that time, became the special object of his vigilance. He could not move without being secretly dogged, or watched from behind a fountain, pillar, o. statue. He lurked in niches; he hid himself in angles ; he lay in wait in all places, and finally, to his infinite satisfaction, discovered something that had always perplexed him—the chamber Wicre the Israelite slept, when, atier every other eye was closed in slumber, he stole like a thief to his own hard couch. Ali and his fellow-servants sometimes slept in the stables with the Jew’s grooms, und sometimes in asmall chamber leading from the main hall ; and it was not unfrequently tac case that one or more of them slept in the uull itself. This state of things gave Jakob excellent opportunities of forwarding his de- sign. The daytime, he soon perceived, was not the season to commit the robbery he con- tempiated ; for the old man, like a faithful sentinel, never went far from his treasures. One night, Boabdil sought his couch ear- lier than usual, and was soon iv a deep slumber. Sadoc, having satisfied himself ot this fact, lighted a lamp, drew a rusty sabre from beneath the cushion on which he had been sitting, and looking cautiously in every direction, Glided away toward his treasure- chamber like a spectral shadow. The lamps were still burning in the long passages. Jakob followed his victim, ob- serving due care to keep at a prudent dis- distance. ‘The old man’s suspicions, sharp- ened by years of dealing with mankind, were the most dangerous enemies he had to en- counter. The Israelite had educated him- self to be shy. He had schooled himself to distrust everbody. He paused every few yards, held up his light, shaded his eyes, and, with the sabre tucked under his arm, peered this way and that, as if he partly anticipated that robbers would rise from the stone floor to throttle him. Leaving the hall, he passed through some smaller apartments that were The Knights of the Red Cross. not lighted, and presently, opening an iron | door, entered the place where his heart was. | Jakob was not far behind, but too distant | to easily reach him betore he passedin. The | guilty Moor stood hesitating what to do, fearing that Sadoc would lock the door; but was agreeably disappointed, when, mstead of hearing the bolt slide, he saw the iron barrier lett ajar. ‘This, although unknown to Jakob, was according to the habit of the Jew, who invariably drew his couch near the door, so that no one could enter without disturbing him, and that every noise in the chambers might reach his ears. ‘1 he old man soon made his simple prepara- tions for repose. He invoked the God of Israel, and placing his lamp on the floor, | ed! heart, he beheld the cotfers which it loved. He grasped more tightly his weapon; he bent over Sadoc and his right arm went up. “ Slave! wretch !” thundered a voice more startling to Jakob than the tramp of the last judgment. He gasped, glanced over his shoulder in ghastly terror. Then there was a quick motion, a glitter of steel, the flash of a cimetar; Jakob’s head fell on Sadoc’s breast! Two jets of blood spurted nearly to the ceiling. The old man awoke, and taking in a part of the picture—a quivering, bleeding trunk, a dissevered head on his chest, and Boabdil standing with a dripping cimetar—began to shrink in the most frightful manner. “God of my fathers! Moses and _ the prophets! Iamslain Iam foully murder- O my daughter! my daughter! Sa- lome! Salome !” The stone chambers. reverberated with his cries. lt was in yain that Boabdil tried to pacify him. His fears had reached a point beyond the control of any one but Salome, and she came running to the spot in inde- scribable. alarm, followed by Leoline, Nico- lette, and Ali. She paused in amazement at the scene which presented itself. There was her father ghastly with horror; there was the stiffening trunk of Jakob; there was Boabdil leaning on his stained cimetar. She knew not what to think. Sadoc, seeing her, | Sprang up and threw himself into her arms. ‘tretched himself on his bed with his sabre | beside him. Kefreshing sleep had long been a stranger to his eyes ; constant apprehension of peril from within and without had de- stroyed that nice susceptibility to rest that senders slumber the sweetest gilt of Deity. Even after his lids began to grow heavy, his eyes would wander dotizsly toward his cot- fers. Money-bags, precious stones, bonds, deeds, and securities, floated wearily through his worn and over-taxed brain. It seemed to the crouching Jakob, that Sadoc never would sleep. He waited near the door till his heavy respiration should tell him the hour had come ; but when that wish had been nearly realized, the Israelite would start up and mutter about bis daughter and the Moorish Prince. He heard the unhappy man communing with himself after such returns from the brink of slumber. He cried - out more than once :—* ‘lalk not to me. I will net doit! It will bring gold! It will save my child! They concealed it from me. Ha! ha! My wit was too keen for them. A Prince—a son of a King —the heir of a throne —and, above all, a fugitive that will bring his weight in gold!” Jakob imagined that he heard a sound much like the light step of a woman, and barely had time to secrete himself, when Salome advanced slowly through the long range of apartments and stood at her father’s door. She was enveloped in a white night- robe, her naked feet thrust into small slip- pers, and her dark hair floating over her snowy shoulders. HKyen to the sullen Jakob she looked like an angel. She listened a long time to her fathers uneasy breathing ; and when he at length became more quiet, she invoked a blessing on him, and stole softly away. Jakob crept from his lurking-place, and, assured that the old man slept, drew his dag- ger, and began gently to push his body through the aparture without alarming him, resolved to dispatch him the moment he was within reach of his arm. The door grated on its hinges. Sadoc moaned and tossed his arms. ‘The assassin remained motionless till his respiration again became natural. Jakob pushed with his elbows, and hands, and feet, but with a wariness that was paintul. He held his breath, and though murder was m his soul, shivered at the wickedness of the deed. Now the door swung sofily, but his heart beat more loudly. He sank upon his knees, groping along the floor with his left hand, and holding the dagger in his right. He could see the old man. His sabre lay beside him, disturbed somewhat by his turnings, but still within his reach. The bronze lamp, companion of so many wretch- ed nights, burned where he had placed it. Jakob could now see quite distinctly. Sa- doc s bleached head and withered cheeks lay slumbrously beneath him. He took in the whole man at a glance ; he calculated rapidly, and knew the exact point where his , heart was beating. And looking across that | efit. “O Salome, sweet Salome, save me tfom this man of blood! Thee only [ love. For thee have I wrought in the heat of the day. For thee have [ guarded these treasures!” His voice failed him, and he sobbed on her shoulder. Age and terror had sadly weak ened him. “What means this?” asked Salome, with marvelous calmness, casting her eyes on Boabdil. “It means, beloved lady, that I have saved your father from assassination! ad not the | Prophet inspired me to watch the steps of that traitor,” he pointed to the body of Jakob with his cimetar, “your father would have been now even as he.” “God of Israel, I thank thee !’ murmured Salome. Then to Sadoc, “ Father, fear not! Behold thy savior. Look at Abdallah!” The old man, feeling the encircling arms of Salome, and that his person was sacred within them, raised his head and glanced at the Prince. His fears allayed, his emotions tranquilized, his naturally acute waderstand- ing took in the generalities of the scene. The reaction from terror to serenity was as sudden and remarkable as the transition from sleep to horror. He was the cool, cal- culating Jew again. CHAPTER XX NICOLETTE’S WARNING. ‘¢ This,” said Ali, musingly, “ is the secret which Jakob was to reserve for his own ben- Little gain has it brought him! He had better have kept honestly at service than coveted another's riches. Noble master, how | knew you of his design ?” “In passing my couch he dropped his dag- ger. ‘Vhe sound awakened me. Impressed by the stealthiness of his manner, | thought it prudent to watch him. In following him, I soon perceived that he was dogging the footsteps of our eniertainer. This was enough to excile the worst of suspicions. 1 kept him in view till he reached the door of this chamber.” At this point Salome blush- ed. She was conscious that he must have witnessed her nocturnal visit to her father. The Prince, noticing her embarrassment, passed over that circumstance. “IT waited,” he continued, “ until the | knave entered cautiously our friend’s apart- ment with drawn dagger. His tate is known to you.” “It was well merited,” said Ali. “The avaricious wretch!’ murmured Leo- line. Sdn “Accept, brave Sir,” said Leoline, “ the , gratitude of my father and myself.” * Yes, accept our thanks,” quavered Sa- doc, looking fearfully at Ali. “ Butlet every one go away. No good can come of staying here. There is nothing here that anybody wants. Good Abdallah, let thy fellow take away this mortality. It is most unseemly. See! here is blood on my doublet—a doub- let that cost a deal of money when it was new.”
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——————— The Knights of the Red Cross. “T will not touch the villain !” protested | Ali. with a strong expression of disgust. “Send for your grooms, old man. I'll not defile myself with such dirt !” No persausion could induce Sadoc to leave the pe He remained there, walking to and fro like an unquiet spirit, until the body of Jakob was removed. When the grooms came to take it away, he stood tremblingly between it and his coffers, and was relieved beyond measure when they had disappeared with it. He then locked the iron door, and would not permit Salome out of his sight till morning. The following day he was very busy in that quarter of his habitation where this had tiappened, and Boabdil suspected that he was removing his treasures to another place of concealment. This event had a perceptible influence on his conduct for a few days, and then it was forgotten or artfully concealed. Ilaving arranged everything apparently to suit him, he ordered a horse to be saddled, and saying that he had business at a Moorish fortress not far off, rode away. This movement was evidently unexpected by Salome, who manifested much surprise when informed of it by Nicolette. What her reflections were, no one knew; but both Leo- line and her brother remarked that she was greatly troubled. The former, by numerous gentle arts, endeavored to extort from her the secret of her anxiety. “Alas !” answered the fair Jewess, “my af- fliction is of that kind which cannot hope for alleviation in the sympathy of friends.” “ The most distressing grief,” replied Leo- line. “If your distress in any manner con- cerns the fugitives whom you have gener- ously sheltered, unbosom yourself to us ; and, if necessary to your peace, we will go hence, and trespass on your hospitality no more.” “To part with you,” said Salome, tenderly, “ will be the greatest of misfortunes.” “ Beautiful Salome,” said Boabdil, “ when [ am king of Granada, I will remember those who gave me a hiding-place when my life was sorely beset.” “The God of Israel grant that you may be restored to your own, and that your heart may be turned to the true faith !” exclaimed the Jewess. “ Since I have seen thee, sweet maiden, I have had the first doubts of my religion and the Prophet,” said Boabdil, in a troubled tone. “ Brother,” said Leoline, “ we should not forget Sir Raoul Mornay, that worthy Chris- tian knight, to whom we are so much in- debited. It is now a month since he set out for Granada. Some evil has befallen him, or he would have returned ere this.” “Sister,” replied Boabdil, “thou art right; and if he return not in a day or two, I will disguise myself, and seek him at every risk. To find him, I will penetrate the Alhambra itself, assured that he would do as much for me were I in like peril.” Leoline’s face instantly flushed. Her glow- ing cheeks bespoke her interest in the Chris- tian knight. Nicolette, who had listened with interest to this conversation, presently found an oppor- tunity of speaking with Boabdil privately. “ Great ladies,” she began, “ have @ vast deal of sense, and they are very gentle and bewitching withal ; but you never can get a plain truth from them. I don’t say this out of malice, because 1 love my mistress. I know what makes her unhappy, which is more than you know, though s prince of the blood. I believe it takes a common person to speak common sense.” The pretty Nicolette paused, and put one arm akimbo very piquantly, probably to give her noble auditor a chance to ask what she meant—a lure which he, like others of his sex, very quickly accepted. - “TJ always knew, my girl, that you were very He tl: 24 Do you mind making me your confidant, Nicolette?” — The Prince smiled kindly. “Fair Sir, you always know how to say the right thing at the right time. Should you ever be king of Granada, I trust that you will not forget the oe Ahab. But to come to the matter. My mistress—may the God of Israel keep her !—has a father. Fathers and their daughters are not always alike. That father is cursed with the curse of avarice. That is not her sin. He has gathered togeth- er riches enough to turn the head of a king. He loves Salome—he loves gold. Water must run down hill—a miser must run atter gold. His soul cannot rest. Whenever there | is an opportunity to add to his fortune, he has not the strength to resist. Who knows this better than my mistress? Gentle Sir, I fear you are no longer safe in the stone pal- ace of Sadoc. From my soul | compassion- ate your misfortunes ; for your (ejected looks, your frequent sighs, your soft and pensive eyes tell me that you suffer. Hear the coun- sel of a poor girl. Take your sister and fly. Seek safety in some other retreat that creep- ing, miserable Avarice has never entered. Providence will, no doubt, direct you.” “My good girl,’ answered Boabdil, pres- ently, “your kindness affects me. I will con- sider what you have said. The heir of a throne has nothing with which to reward your friendship but his good will.” “YT want no more! I want no more!” cried Nicolette, kissing his hand. “ Remember the youth Ahab.” With these words, she glided away swiftly, leaving Boabdil to meditate on what he had heard, CHAPTER XXI. THE POISONED DAGGER. Sadoc followed the page, with visions of gold teeming in his imagination. Some oubt of the honorableness of his errand ob- truded upon his mind ; but he stifled such thoughts as speedily as possible. In passing into the palace, he turned his eyes neither to the right nor left to notice those objects of curiosity which usually attract the notice of strangers. The King received him in a private cham- ber. Sadoc saluted him after the manner of the country, and assumed a humble attitude. “Thou art Sadoe, the Jew ?” said the King, after eyeing him leisurely. “T am so called,” replied the Israelite, sub- missively. “Thou hast dealt somewhat largely in moneys, Sadoc ?” “ Not of late years, your Majesty. For- merly, I dealt somewhat ; but heavy losses compelled me to seek a humbler occupa- tion.” Sadoc sighed. smiled. * Thou art reputed rich. Truly, I am sor- ry for thy misfortunes ; but if thou learnest by them not to lay up thy treasures on earth, thou wilt in the end be the gainer.” “ Thou speakest like a rabbi,” said Sadoe, somewhat dryly. “ Riches are ofttimes a snare . and yet, Sire, they are better than verty. It is not easy for the old to become inured to the privations that the young only can endure.” The Israelite’s countenance became very ave. “ Where dwellest thou, Jew ?” Muley Aben Hassan yawned and looked unconsciously at Sadoc. “J have no abiding-place. I flee from city to city, the avenger of blood beliind me. The rulers and potentates of the land show no compassion for such as I. When I had gold, 1 was somewhat thought of. Now, alas! I am but Sadoc, the accursed Jew.” “It is marvelous that one so sharp should become so poor. What brings thee to me ?” “ Now,” thought the Jew, “ we are com- ing to the point.” “ Being, as I have told thee, a sojourner and a wayfarer, it becomes me to take advan- tage of every cirewnstance to better my con- dition. Sire, I have a secret to sell.” “ Thou comest to a poor market. rather sell than buy. Yet the page mention- ed something of thy business to me, and I am disposed to entertain thy proposals. Thou wouldst make a bargain with me for the de- livery into my hands of Boabdil, called the Uniucky ?” The old King smiled grimly “| like thy plainness. There is no virtue like straightforwardness in matters of busi- ness.” The Israelite seemed revived by the prospect of driving a bargain. He stroked his beard and rubbed his hands, as he was wont when looking prospectively at bags of gold and silver. Y “Do you propose to bring this apostate bound to Granada ?” said the wily King. « God forbid !” cried Sadoc. “lam not a man of battle. I would no more lay hands on him than I would touch the fiery dragon of the bottomless pit!” Aben Hassan covertly “A bird in the hand, worthy Sadoc, is worth two in the bush. If thou wouldst drive a bargain, bring me the bird,” said the King. calmly contemplating the bowed figure of the Jew. * Thou misiakest me, noble master,’ pro- tested Sadoc. “ It was not in my presuinp- tion that L could bind the young lion and de- liver him into thine hand ; but I thouyht, peradventure, he might be taken by guiie— entangled, as it were, in a fisher’s net ; lured into an ambuscade, and seized upon by sume of thy yeung men.” “Venerable Israelite, solve me this ques- tion : Knowest thou the hiding-place of the apostate Boabdil, who claims to be the law- ful heir to my throne, and who has, in ‘his pride and falsehood, it is rumored, made trea- sonable proposals to Ferdinand of Spain?” The hawk-like orbs of: the gray-bearded Hassan penetrated Sadoc like steel arrows. The old man’s habitual cunning did not for- sake him, but fear was fast undermining it. This, of all queries, he least cared to answer directly ; for he knew somewhat of the tem- per of kings. “ Great Hassan,” he said, with much ap- pearance of deference, “ I only ailirm that 1 may give such hints as may speedily lead to his capture. I would not exalt: my knowl- edge too much.” While the Israelite was thus qualifying bis knowledge, El Zagal and Zegrim entered the apartment of private au- dience. “ Thou art welcome, El Zagal. And thou, Zegrim, stand behind our chair,” said Has- san. “We have here,” he continued, * the exemplary Israelite, Sadoe, who comes to sell us our son Boabdil, the pretender to our throne. Speak, Ki Zagal.. Low many ounces of gold shall 1 give for the traitor?” “ Not an ounce!” answered the unbending Moslem, bluntly. « A hundred ounces !” muttered Zegrim. The King having mused a moment, once more addressed the Jew. “Israelite, l ask you again if you know the — abiding-place of this untilial son ?” “ Powerful monarch,” answered the crafty Jew, “if 1 find him out, I will receive no re- ward.” Aben Hassan clapped his hand thrice, and instantly the black slaves came in, and pros- trated themselves till their sooty foreheads touched the floor. One carried :v stout stick, with a cord attached to it; another an instru- ment called the bastinado. ‘The King slightly nodded his head, and the Jew was laid sprawling on his face before he was aware of the danger that threatened him. One of the blacks seated himself on his shoul- ders, the stick and cord were adjusted in a twinkling, and his feet bared. “ God of Abraham!” cried Sadoe. “What evil is this that has befallen me ?” “ Lay on!” said Hassan. One of the slaves began to apply the bastinado to Sadoe’s feet. The old man howled with pain, and dug his nails into his palms. * Hast found thy tongue, lying dog ?” ask- ed the King, after this cruel punishment had continued ‘Tong enough for the black to lay on a dozen or twenty blows. * Mighty sovereign,’ whined Sadoc, “ the hearts of all men are in the hands of the I would | king. Permit me to arise and stand betore thee, as is seemly, and I will answer thee without evasion.” *':hou art well enough as thou art. Learn from this not to tamper with the temper of kings. Knowest thou the secret haunt of Boabdil ?” * Puisseat Hassan, I may safely affirm that i can lead thy young men to him,” answered mi still adhering to his non-committal policy. “ Give him another taste of the cudgel !” commanded the King, with a careless wave of the hand ; and while the bastinado was flying, and the old man shrieking, turned and conversed complacently with Zegrim. El Zagal stood shrugging his shoulders. “ Father Abraham, thou hast given me over tothe tormenters! Iam afilicted even unto death! 1 sutler greatly in my flesh, and my strength faileth me. He thatis wise will not put his trust in princes.- I crave your mercy, O Aben Hassan !”” “lave, rest your arms. We will see if this Jew will need to reason. Knowest thou or knowest thou not, that whieh I asked thee of? Yea or nay, and that quickly !” “As my soul liveth, yea!” groaned the ’ Hebrew. |
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Sx no delay, and from willing lips flows natur- ally.” The old man was now in a dangerous di- lemma. He thought of his treasure and his daughter. He felt that Heaven was reward- ing him for his treachery and grasping ava’ rice. If he answered in the affirmative, he might lose his head the moment his services were no longer required ; while, if he replied in the negative, the’ bastinado would again torture his burning feet. “I conducted him to a cave on the side of a mountain, where he yet abides ; and where I have from time to time supplied him with food, according to his needs,” he answered, with a semblance of candor that deceived the King. “ Was there with him a maiden ?” Hassan averted his eyes, and spoke in a milder tone. “ Verily, a damsel of exceeding beauty,” said Sadoc. “Sawest thou ever an English knight in his company ?” “T have, my Lord. He is hight Sir Raoul Mornay, and professed to be in the service of Spain.” “'Thou canst go directly to this cave ?” “ My memory,” stammered Sadoc, “is not what it was a dozen years ago, and my eyes are wondrous dim; yet—” “Slave!” interrupted Hassan, “ cure that dimness and quicken his feeble memory.” “* Nay,” screamed Sadoc, at the first blow ; “T succumb! I can go direct as an arrow to that cave whereof I have told you.” “That is to the purpose. Fellows, let him up,” said Hassan, with a significant nod at El Zagal. « Verily, my feet are broken in pieces, even as the tables of stone were broken by Moses!” muttered Sadoc, trying to stand. “ My re- ward, great sovereign? Might I presume to speak of my reward ?” he added, with abject humility. ‘* My 'Treasurer,” answered Hassan, gravely, “shall count thee out ten pistoles.”" The Hebrew groaned aloud. His consternation paralyzed fis tongue. flassan clapped his hands again. A war- rior, booted and spurred, with cimetar gi to his thigh, entered the royal presence. His countenance was peculiarly dark and morose. Ife fixed his eyes on the King, and looked at no other till he had spoken. “ Tlamet, thou art faithful ?” said the King. “ Unto death !” answered Hamet, with pro- found reverence. “] believe thee! Are thy men ready ?” “ They stand each with a hand on the pom- mel of a saddle.” “Itis as it should be. Advance, Hamet. Take this dagger ; the point is poisoned ; its merest prick, will produce death.” Sadoc stood gaping with wonder. “'Phou seest that old man?” resumed the King. “ ‘Thou wilt mount him on his horse, rivet a chain to his wrist, and fasten it to thy saddle-bow. Let him not from thy sight day nor night till he lead thee to a certain cave, wherein our traitor-son, Boabdil, lies con- cealed. If he deceive thee, and thou take not Boabdil, strike him with this poisoned dagger—no matter how lightly, he will die miserably.” “Sovereign Lord, thou art to me as the Prophet himself! ‘Thy words are like the verses of the Koran. All thou hast com- manded shall be performed as faithfully as if thou wert the All-seeing Eye !” Hamet took the dagger, kissed the hilt, and thrust it beneath his girdle. Sadoc hobbled forward and fell on ‘his knees. “ Mighty King, have mercy on an old man and a sinner!” ife smote on his breast, and Kowed his gray head. “My beloved Hamet, take this Hebrew and set him astride his beast in the manner 1 have ordered, and let not the grass on the vega grow the sixteenth part of a hair’s breadth before thou art outside the gates of the Alhambra.” “God is just!” groaned Sadoc, and fell senseless at the feet of the King. ‘The grim Hamet bent over the miserable Israehte, raised him from the floor as if he had been a sack of down, tucked him under his right arm, and stalked from the royal presence with his countenance as unmoved as a shield of brass. The Knights of the Red “ Hast thou sheltered and secreted him ? | Pause not to frame thy speech, for truth needs | CHAPTER XXII. EL ZAGAL. Ahab, as soon as Le had left the Court of Lions, hurried to the Tower of Comares as fast as he could. Threading his way down to the dungeons, showing Zoroya’s ring to the various guards on duty, he arrived at the pri- son of Sir Raoul, who had but a few mo- ments before returned from the torture-cham- ber. Ahab, struck by his paleness, inquired the cause of it. *T have,” said Mornay, “ been to the apart- ment where they keep the playthings of kings and tyrants.” “T know what these are,’ said Ahab. “The rack, thumb-screws, pressure with weights, the suspending of poor devils by one haad or one finger, the hot braziers, and various other cursed contrivances. I hope your worship has «®me well out of it ?” “In the nost ineredible fashion! The wheels and ;\illeys revolved, the horrible engine creased, and I suffered no great strain.” “Phat was out of the common course. Who was present ?” The Magician, Zegrim, and El Zagal.” “My wit cannot help you much in the solution of this mystery; but if the lad Ze- grim had not something to do with it, Iknow nothing of the matter. Who do you think has arrived at the palace ?” “Inform me, worthy Ahab.” “Sadoc, the Jew, is now having audience | with the King. I met him in the Court of hazard anything upon it. Lions. This visit concerns the Prince. I of- fered to buy his secret, but he would not sell it, thinking to drive a better bargain with Muley Aben Hassan. But it is all the same ; I have not a pistole! If he gets gold from the King, never again give me credit for wit. My master, he has come to betray your friend, Boabdil.” Mornay heard this announcement with profound sorrow. He walked his prison in the greatest perturbation. The danger that threatened Boabdil affected him more than his own misfortune. “ He must be warned of his peril!” he ex- claimed. -“ Learn, if you can, the result of the old man’s interview, and communicate the same to me as speedily as possible.” “Certainly, your worship; it shall be as ron say. lam your servant. I go here and go there, and it is all the same.’ Ahab coolly left Sir Raoul, and was gone an hour, when he came back with all the particulars of Sadoe’s bargaining. He waited to be questioned before opening his budget. Mornay finally drew out the whole truth. “ Yes,” said Ahab, after once repeating the story, “he got the bastinado, instead of money-bags. The slave laid it on lustily, and El Zagal says that he roared like a hoarse old lion. e has got to ride, too, with that raven, Hamet, with a poisoned dagger at his breast and a chain riveted to his wrist, so that he cannot get away without taking Ha- met, horse and all. It is the curse of Allah for his treachery. The father and daughter are as much alike asa hyena and a dove. Her‘ heart would break if she knew his vil- lainy ; but whether it would break or no, it is all one!” Mornay walked his cell a few moments, then, fixing his eyes on the Moorish youth, asked : “ My faithful friend, is there not some way, of escape ?” “ As there are but a very few things utterly impossible,” respended Ahab, “ escape may be practicable, though not easy. There are several armed men to pass, at different points, whose vigilance cannot be lightly dis- armed ; and, perchance, the dagger may have to be used.” “ But bring me a dagger, and, if need be, I can use it as well as another. ‘Time presses, ifamet and his men, according to your in- formation, are already on the way, attended by the wretched Sadoc. If nothing can be done for my liberation by our united wits, you must mount the swiftest steed that can be pro- cured, nor drink water nor draw bridle-rein till you reach the stone castle of the Jew.” “ We will wait till night, which is near at hand. Meantime I will procure the dress of a Santon, with such weapons as I can con- ceal about me. You shall take, also, this ring, Which may serve you, perchance, when nothing else will.” “ Your plan,” replied Sir Raoul, “has some show of success in it, and I am willing to “Depart at once, and make all needful preparation.” Cross. , ' derstand “There’s nothing liké trying,” quoth Ahab. “ Wit first and heels afterward! If I were in your place I should not so much as lift my little finger one way or the other. You see, my master, that it is just here; if it isre- corded in the book that you are to rot here, nothing in Granada will prevent you from rot- ting. Ifitisscratched down in the same book, whether in coarse hand or fine, that your joints are to be dragged asunder by one of those cursed machines, you'll be so dragged, if the devil stood at the door. But, on the contrary, if it be written in that volume that you will cut your way out of this tower and escape, not all the armies of the King can keep you here. But that which is decreed will happen; and whether it be one or the other, it is all the same!” “Tis a most solacing doctrine, sage youth. But it is doubtless written that 1 should make some effort for my liberty, and that you should assist me; therefore, speed on your errand,” answered Sir Raoul. “One thing, my master, is good as another; but since you exercise the right of choice, it is mine to obey. I turn the key on you and Igo. If the Prophet, or the God of the Christians, or the three Deities of the Jew— that same Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob—aid me, as some of them ought to, it makes no difference which, I will most assuredly return to you with the things I have mentioned ; for Crescent and Cross and unleavened bread are all one tome. If I do but eat and drink and sleep and wear clothes, it is enough.” The Knight smiled, and waved him away with his hand. “Then there is one thing more, your god- ship. If that magnificent Sultana, that ena- mored she, that black-eyed houri from the third heaven, should chance to drop down | upon you, swear that you love her better than your daily bread. efi her that her eyes glitter like two new daggers. That her breath is sweeter than a coulection of roses. | That her nose is merecomely than the Vir- y gin Mary’s. That her mouth is more ravish- ing than a honeycomb, and that her voice is more melodious than the wind! If she asks you to fly with her, fall on your knees and | vow there is nothing that you half as much desire. same !”” Ahab the Witty locked the door on Sir Raoul with imperturbs ple serenity, and went his way. Mornay’s confinement was never before so irksome. The betrayal of Boabdil would af- fect him in a most tender point. What would happen to Leoline after that catastrophe ? Imprisonment, perhaps death. Most distress. ing was the possibility that he might never again behold her. In such an event, he be- lieved he should be deprived of the better part of his life. Again, while he was mewed up in the tower, gallant deeds of arms were unquestionably being daily performed by the knights of Spain. He was chagrined that he could not share in those achievements and win a name that should be dear to his mis- tress. To his infinite astonishment, while these vexatious reflections were whirling through his brain, the swarthy chiet, El Zagal, pre: sented himself. A haughty smile curled his lip. “ Christian,” he said, disdainfully, “ thou camest off miraculously well from the tor- ture! Thou art indeed a favored mortal. Let thy prudence equal thy obstinacy. The soft- est hand may crush a mailed warrior. Con- ceal from the astrologer and from the King the singular immunity that has been gtarited thee this day. It is something that hath seldom betore happened. Thy secrecy will be thy safety.” “ Brave El Zagal, I will not fain to misun- you. I um indebted to some one, whom [ will not assume to say; but to that Do this or not; it will be all the person I would convey my most respectful acknowledgments. J kiss reverently the hand that stayed my torture, and held back pain. It must have been a most potent hand, and I were not a chivalrous and courteous knight not to confess it and return suitable thanks.” ‘hy speech, proud unbeliever, cannot give offence to any; and I pray the Prophet to deliver thee from thy bondage,” answered ii! Zagal, in a friendly tone. “ You are generous, gallant Moor. Let me inform you that I have heard of your feats of arms. ‘There is not a name more renowned than yours among the Moslem hosts. The =)
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cavaliers of Spain often mention your ex- ploits with admiration.” ‘The tamed Moorish leader smiled grimly. The pride of the warrior gleamed over his sallow visage. “ By Allau!l I would like to break a lance and cross swords with thee. Though thou art not of my faith and country, thou hast the spirit and gentle courtesy of a worthy and meritorious cavalier. I wonder not that thou art agreeable to the eyes of lady fair. Even & Sultuna may be forgiven for a truant thought! But, by the sacred Caaba, thou hast been but shabbily treated! As a bearer of dispatches from the Christian King, th person should have been respected; and if thou escapest not, it will be no fault of mine.” * By the souls of my ancestors!” cried Mornay, “ you make me think better of hu- man nature. May the time soon come when we.can meet in a fair field, in full view of the Christian and Moslem armies. To be van- quished by El Zagal would be no disgrace.” Sir Raoul Mornay extended his hand; the dusky and taciturn chief grasped it in his | bronze fingers. A flash of his softer nature streamed into his face. Ilis eyes beamed in an unwonted manner. Through his parted lips his teeth shone out like pearls. “Tt is the compact of men,” he said. “A sincere friend, an open enemy, and a soul above disguise. Knight of the Red Cross, El Zagal, the Chief of the Moslem armies has spoken !” Those hardy palms of honest foemen press- ed each other for a brief instant, then E1 Zagal bowed low, turned away, and de- parted. CHAPTER XXIII. WHAT HAPPENED TO ABADDON. This remarkable interview had a cheering effect on the depressed spirits of Sir Raoul. He was rejoiced to discover manliness and nobility of soul even among his enemies. In ae time, the phiegmatic Ahab came, bringing the garb of a santon and a dagger for his master. Having the ring so well known to the guards, they dared not dispute his passage. ornay put on the garments over his own, and with the dagger in his hand, the point concealed in his sleeve, submitted himself to the guidance of the youth, whose sagacity and attachment he had no reason to distrust. Ahab described to him as well as he could the passages to be traversed, the sentinels to be passed, the flights of steps to be ascended, and the conduct to be observed when outside the town. He also gave him the ring. Mor- nay, invoking the Divine protection, address- ed himself to the perilous attempt. Ahab fol- lowed a few yards behind. The first guard, who was stationed not far from the knight's prison, eyed him suspici- ously. He had seen no santon pass that way, but the ring ina measure satisfied his mis- givings, and Sir Raoul moyed on. Ahab, who had gone in and come out frequently, was not questioned. Turning a corner, he came rather abruptly upon the next sentinel, who was not so easily satisfied, He glanced at the ring, held Mor- nay by the sleeve, examined his features minutely, and said: “Fellow, I have no remembrance of thy features. Besides, no santon has passed me during my watch.” Mornay spoke the Moorish language fluent- ly, but knew little of the mummery of the class he was personating. He answered, quietly : : “Friend, your memory is short. It is scarcely a half-hour since I gave you the blessiug of the Prophet, and went on my er- rand, which led me by thy post.” «“ Now, thou art a false knave !” exclaimed the Moor, unsheathing his cimetar, and at- tempting to seize the knight by the throat. “ Die!” muttered Sir Raoul, and, with the swiliness of ligutning, plunged the dagger into his breast. He sank to the earth, and Mornay, concealing his weapon beneath his flowing garments, hurried on. Ahab came up with him. 4 “There is one more,” he said, “ whom you have to fear ; pass him, and all will be well. If you see suspicion in his eyes, strike! After this, go up the firstavinding steps you come to, at the top of which you will find an aged Moor, sitting in a chair, with a sabre across his knees. ‘Place in his hands as many pis- The Knights of the Red Cross. " toles as you can spare, and. say ‘ Shibboleth.’ This is all that you need do. He will see the sparkle of your ring, nod, smile, and the thing is done. Should you meet the Magi- cian, do unto him as you have but now done to the wretch behind us.” The knight observed these instructions, and advanced with much dubiousness upon the soldier of whom Ahab had warned him. As it chanced, he was sleepy, and in a mood not to be very particular; so, glancing at the ring; he permitted the knight to go on. still following the directions of the youth, he ascended the winding-steps, came upon the old Moor, put five pistoles in his hand, heid | up the signet, pronounoed the word * Shib- boleth”, and moved forward. had waiked but a short distance, when, to his | dismay, he behelc El Zagal pacing to and fro with slow step and thoughtful brow. At first. he was disconcerted; bnt, seeing but one course left, went boldly forward. The Moslem leader heard his footsteps, and, with the instincts of a warrior, laid his hand upon the handle of his cimetar; then falling back to the wall, and folding his arms upon his breast, said, with a peculiar smile: “Pardon me, holy dervise! My mind was on the field of battle as you approached. I hope you hayeno reason to complain of your treatment in the tower of Comares ?” “ My son,” answered Mornay, “ I complain of nothing. The will of Allah determines all events.” “ Most true, pious santon. He predesti- nates who shall come and go, who shall live and who shall die, who shall love and who shall hate, aad who shall languish in dun- geons,” returned El Zagal. “Even so, warrior! Thou art most wise. The Prophet has unquestionably enlightengd thy mind, and given thee the pearl of wis- dom for the dross of ignorance. But I must not tarry. The inspjyation within me calls me hence,” added Mornay. “'The inspiration within you will perad- venture tell you to keep to your left hand as rou pass out of the tower, and to avoid the not of men-at-arms at the right-hand exit.” E] Zagal looked steadily belore him. No change came over his iron visage. Mornay was too quick and apprehensive not to per- ceive the friendly meaning of the Moor. “ Allah has indeed instructed me,” he an- swered, in a subdued and grateful voice. “I have learned a lesson this night that I shall not soon fu.get; which is that generosity is the noblest gift of heaven !” El Zagal smiled ; that smile was like light breaking upon darkness. Mornay liited his basinet and passed on. Turning to the left, as El Zagal had hinted, he soon found him- self in the Court of Lions, where he paused for Ahab, who presently appeared. “st is all well, my master! It was written that you should escape. The will of fate must be fulfilled. But we must away. Two splendid horses, saddled and bridled, and ready to mount, await us on the green bank of the Darro. All that remains for us to do is to hasten from this accursed spot. Yet we should not complain; everything is as it should be; and it is all the same!” _ “ Lead the way, in God’s name!” answered the knight. “Hamet is on the road, and Boabdil and his sister are in danger.” “True, your worship. We have business enough on hand. Unleavened Bread will do the mischief if we tarry by the way ; although I as «oa it amounts to just nothing in the end. None of these give recompense. The wisest persun is he who exerts himself the least. thinking, nothing would be done.” Hastening on, they began to descend a steep and rocky hill to the Darro. When about half way down, the knight saw a figure moving slowly toward them. The darkness revented immediate recognition. Mornay ept his hand on his weapon. When within a few paces of the person, he beheld in him Abaddon, the Magician. Quicker than it can be related, he called to mind the arts and hypocrisies of this singular man; how he ha empied him at the Vermilion Power, how he had attempted his life with a match- lock; how, like a stealthy leopard, he had come to him in his dungeon; and, lastly, his appearance and conduct in the torture- chamber. When he remembered these things, his indignation was great. Seeing Ahab, the Magician stopped, and He was now | | in a hall more frequented by those who came | and went and aitended upon the King. He ere all the world of my way of | 21 eyeing nim and the false santon keenly, asked : “ What is thy name, youth ?” “Tt is anything, mighty Magician, that people please to call me. ou can call me Mahomet, Baal, Beelzebub, Belial, or Bel- phagus ; and it will be all the same!” “You had best give me a civil answer. Methinks I have seen thee about the palace,” answered Abaddon, drawing still nearer to Ahab. “Very likely !” said the latter, coolly. “I haye a great deal of business with the a | and the Sultana, and they would find it har to get along without me; for I have nimble feet and nimble wit.” “IT doubt thy wit, but not thy impudence. | But this’—he turned to Mornay—* by his garb should be a santon ?” “'The most extraordinary santon in Gra- nada!” said Ahab. “So great is his holi- ness that he has wrought miracles, almost without trying. His power nearly equals your own.” “TI should like to see him work a miracle or two,” retorted Abaddon, bending his cold, blue eyes on Sir Raoul, who cared not to en- dure his scrutiny. He ip out his hand to thrust him aside, when Abaddon caught him by the wrist. “This,” he cried sarcastically, “is a re- markable hand for a sancon! lt is not thin with fasting nor unnerved by painful ordeals. It is like the hand of a warrior.” “Stand aside! My business is urgent !” said Mornay. “Pardon my curiosity, holy man; but I would see more fully the features of one who must be so inspired as thou undoubtedly art.” The Magician spoke with that composure which usually distinguished him, but his bearing was resolute. Sir Raoul could restrain his anger no longer. Seizing Abaddon by the shoulders, he lifted him from the ground and shook him fiercely. “ Why should I not fling thee from this batilement of stone?” he cried, springing to the edge of a jutting rock, and holding Ab- addon over an abyss of some fifty feet in depth. “ May the angel of God have mercy on me!” shrieked the Magician. ‘4 nou mayest well ask the aid of Heaven,” said ong tay de “for I have but to unclose my fingers to drop thee to perdition in an in- stant!” T, In his struggles, the old.man’s turban had fallen off, and with it a wig of white hair. Looking down upon his agitated face, the knight recognized Muley Aben Hassan, King of Granada. “ Drop him, my master, drop him!” said Ahab. Sir Raoul was so astounded by the discov- ery, that he came near folowing the youth’s advice. He snatched him hastily from the dangerous position in which he had placed him, and setting him upon his feet, for a brief space remained speechless. “ King of Granada,” he said, presently, in a husky voice, “thou hast been near death this night.” Aben Hassan’s white lips moved, but no sound escaped them. He raised his eyes up- ward, and seemed inwardly returning than for his escape. “An hour ago, I was in thy power; now thou art in mine!” he continued. “Thou art Sir Raoul Mornay !” faltered the King. “lam that injured knight. I have escap- ed from your dungeons, and fate has deliver- ed you into my hands.” “Tt is the will of Allah!” sighed Hassan. “Most true, great King. All this was writ- ten,” interposed Ahab. “King of Granada,” said Mornay, “we part not thus. Your life shall be sacred in my eyes; but you ascend not again the throne of Granada !” * Proud Engiishman,” returned Hassan, with dignity, “remember that I am a king, and that Allah protects the persuns of kings.” “{f he protects thee, it is well; I will not complain.’ Then to Ahab: “ Youth, bring onder turban and those white locks that ie on the stones.” Ahab obeyed in silence. “Aben Hassan, once King of Granada, be pleased to assume your disguise. You are | about to take a journey in my poor company ' to yonder mountains, and I would not —
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22 you recognized by those whom we may chance to meet.” “'l’o the mountains !” exclaimed Hassan, full of consternation. “ Wouldst thou put upon thee this indignity ?” * Talk not of indignities! Am I not even now recking from thy dungeons? Are not my joints swollen and stiffened by thy tender mercies? Be thankful that I do not strike thee to the heart !”’ “I acknowledge that I did thee some wrong, Sir Knight, but it was because thou wert leagued with my apostate son. Do no violence to my wishes, and I will make ample amends for what has passed. ‘Thou shalt return to Ferdinand laden with riches aud honors. Thou shalt bear letters from me to thy King, accrediting thee the bravest, the most courtly and puissant knight in his service; and that there fights not under his banners so meritorious a cavalier.” “1 trust thy faith no more! Were I so in- fztuated as to return with thee to the Alham- bra, my head, to-morrow morning, would be seen grinning from thy battlements, on the oint of a lance!” replied the knight of the ted Cross, sternly. “T swear by my religion, by Allah, and by the Propiet, that I will fwllfill my promise that I here make, to the very letter and spirit of the same !’ protested Hassan. “ And more than this I will do,” he. added, sinking his voice and speaking hurriedly, “thou shalt wed the princess Leoline! 1 swear it!” The blood fiew like lightning to Sir Raoul’s face. For a brief interval his emo- tions were painfully intense. The old King perceived his advantage and would have fol- lowed it up, had not Mornay waved his hand imperiously. “ Nay, nay, old man, it will not do! Thou hast broken faith with me once, and did I trust thee a second time, I should deserve to be betrayed. Take my arm and let us de- scend to the Darro. Fear not for thy life; I will guard it as my own. But attempt to es- cape, or raise thy voice, or practice any de- vice to that end, and King, as thou art, I will sever tly head trom thy body !” “It is just!’ murmured ‘the King, and re- | fusing the proffered arm of Sir Raoul, walked | with bowed head and frequent sighs, down the bili. Reaching the verdant bank of the river, | Mornay saw two horses tied to a fig-trees, | pawing the ground impatiently. | “There are the steeds I spoke of, my mas- ter,” said Ahab, in a more deferential tone than he had ever used in addressing Sir Raoul. “Ah,” muttered Aben Hassan, “it is to thy treachery that I owe this!” “Father of Boabdil, for once in your life thou hast spoken the truth. And this is not the only good turn for which thou art indebt- ed to Ahab the Witty. I have done some- | thing for thy son and something for thy Sul- | tana, but no more than was written. And whatever thou mayest think of it, and what- ever may come of it, it is all the same !” “Iyreverent and false varlet, 1 may yet hang thee from the loftiest turret of the Al- hambra!” retorted Hassan, with a flash of his old tierceness. * Aiter | am hanged,” answered Ahab, “ it Se make no manner of difference how I ied.” “ Aben Hassan,” said Mornay, holding the stirrup, “ you will mount this horse.” “Phere is no choice,” answered the King. “Oircumstances and physical strength give thee the advantage.” The old King vaulted into the saddle, and in obedience to a gesture from the knight, Ahab leaped - before him, and grasped the bridle-reins. ‘The betrayed monarch began an angry and vehement ex- postulation, but Mornay checked him by a determined look. “Searva him, my master, lest it be written that I be stabbed from behind,” said Ahab. “If it be written, Ahab, according to your | own showin, nothing can prevent it; never- theless, your advice is good. Great Abad- don, I will search thee. There may be on thy person some of the mysterious imple- ments of thine art.” * Be not too fumiliar with the person of a king! I will spare thee the trouble.” The | King drew a dagger trora his bosom, and, | with a haughty glance, gave it to Mornay: “lt is well,” said the latter. “The first sign of treachery will be the signal of thy | in ” The Knights of the Red Cross. country. Ride on; 1 will follow. Conduct | us to the castle of Sadoc, the Jew.” A malignant expression passed over Aben Hassan’s face; he was thinking of Hamet and the poisoned dagger. Sir Raoul mounted, and Ahab, giving the | impatient charger the rein, swept away with welcome speed. CHAPTER XXIV. THE JOURNEY OF SADOC. Mounted on his horse, and chained to Hamet, with his feet smarting from punish- ishment, Sadoc began to think seriously of his conduct. The ten pistoles that had been paid him before starting to the mountains jingled in his pockets, and in his rage and mortification he would have gladly cast them into the Darro or flung them into Hamet’s face. But this was no time for the manifest- ation of his feelings. It was better for his safety to dissemble; and hypocrisy came somewhat naturally to the Israelite. To lead Hamet and his followers to his stone castle, where he kept his daughters and his treas- ures, was a thing he did not mean to do. But he was placed in a situation so precarious, that it would require consummate art to ex- tricate himself trom the difliculty in which he had indiscreetly become involved. As he rode along across the Vega, or plain, that lay between them and the foot of the moun- tains, he taxed all his craft for a subterfuge by which to evade the conditions imposed. e recollected, tinally, a spacious cavern in- habited by banditti, and to this cavern he re- solved to lead Hamet and _ his ten followers. This expedient appeared a most clever one to the Jew, and his spirits immediately be- gan to revive. Being compelled to guide the movements of Hamet, he wisely resolved to make as long a journey of it as possible ; so wound about strangely through valleys, passes, and defiles, keeping, however, every locality fixed in his memory. He tried to beguile Hamet into conversation, but that dark Moslem was not | easily beguiled. He either remained entirely silent, or indicated that he heard, by a stiff movement of the head. Sadoc, as a last re- sort, drew a small wicker flask from his doublet, and after tasting its contents, prof- fered it to the glum Hamet, who shook his head and gravely declined the favor. “Thou drt most temperate, Hamet, and I commend thy prudence. Thou art young, but my old blood needs occasional warm- “ Thy blood,” answered Hamet, with un- changed countenance, “but recently got a most thorough warming !” The Israelite winced, for his feet every moment reminded him ofthe bastindo. Yet he did not regret this retort, for he had gain- ed an advantage with his surly companion. “ He might have spared his cudgel and my feet,” he said; “for [ would have betrayed this Boabdil out of mere hatred, if there had been no money in the case. But having an eye to mine own interest, I thought it best to drive « bargain, if possible; yet the choleric monarch was shrewder than I.” “Faith! I think he was!” snarled Hamet. “Tt may be so, but if he had hearkened to me to the end, he would have been greatly the gainer. The cavern I have mentioned is sometimes frequented by robbers, and there are vast treasures concealed in one or more of of its secret recesses.” “What might be the number of these rob- bers?” inquired Hamet, beginning to be in- terested. “Not less than six, not more than ten, according to the best of my knowledge,” replied Sadoc, with much seeming simplicity. | Hamet rode on in silence, thinking of the concealed treasure. The Jew’s chain jingled on his doublet, and the Ng tage jingled in his pocket. Both reminded him of his disgrace, | and both whetted his desire for vengeance. “Ifthe Prince,” he added, “was not pro- tected by those fellows, he could be easily taken.” “I care not,” replied Hamet, gruffly, “ for six or even ten such varlets. With those sturdy warriors at my back, what have I to fear? Yet,” added the Moor, with charac- teristic distrust, “I scarcely credit thy tale.” “T ask not credence,” returned the Jew, | humbly, “Ido but speak that you may un- derstand the true state of the case, and prac- tice such strategy as you may think proper death. Ahab, thou art acauainted with tne for the capture of him you are in search of. / number, turned and fled. ; once. The treasure which I mentioned was foully | come by, being plundered from travelers and merchants, together with five bags of gold taken from my own person, with much abuse and violence.” Hamet watched the countenance of Sadoc some time without speaking. The Jew, | feigning not to see him, kept his eyes deject- edly bent on the ground. “Thou lovest not these robbers, I should say ?” said the Mvor, anon. “They are to me as swine’s flesh, which is abominable! I spit upon them! May the curses of Heaven light on their heads!” The Israelite glanced slyly at the poisoned dagger which Hamet wore in his girdle. “Swear to me,” he resumed, with much earnestness, “ that if you secure the unlawful gains of these despoilers, you will restore to a my own, or, at least, the fourth part of my oss.”’ “Tt is not my business to bargain with thee, as thou knowest ; therefore, say no more of the matter.” Being forbidden to converse on the subject he most wished to press, the Jew rode on re- volving his chances of escape in his mind, and a Lok new wiles. Having guided Hamet till long after dark, and penetrated far into the labyrinths of the mountains, a halt was ordered, Sadoc protest- ing all the while that he feared misleading them if they went farther. He was taken from his horse and chained, like a wild ani- mal in a menagerie, to a small tree, near which the Moor stretched himself in his blanket, his followers doing the same thing at a little distance. This, like his other posi- tion, the Israelite could not have anticipated when he set out on his traitorous errand. With the dim sky over him, and the blurred mountain-ranges around him, with escape apparently impossible, he had ample time to reflect on his folly. He had taiked of robbers in the afternoon, | the whole tale being a coinage of his own brain ; but those lawless gentlemen by and by proved nearer than he had supposed. A little after midnight, Hamet and his ten men were furiously attacked. The latter, think- ing discretion the better part of valor, after striking a few blows and losing some of their ot being able to secure and mount their horses, they fell into the hands ot the banditti. Hamet fought like a lion, but finally, per- ceiving that his friends had deserted hina, and that courage could not avail against numbers, seized the Jew and hurried away with him on foot, which greatly increased his sufferings, his feet bein Pyrtlien from the bastindo. He obtiiptained Ditvstly of his tor- tures, but received no sympathy from the stern Moor. “Tf thy feet,” quoth he, “are sore, it is thine own fault. Hadst thou told the truth, there would have been no need of a cudgel ; and if thou triest to escape, that poisoned dagger is in my belt!” this wretched plight Sadoc was led, or rather dragged, along by Hamet, who, seeing that the undertaking had thus far failed, was strongly inclined to make an end of him at When the Israelite could endure this rough treatment no longer, he sank to the earth, protesting that he could go no farther. Casting his eyes about hopelessly, he descried at a short distance, the ruins of a castle, and made a last effort to reach it. Having, with slow and painful steps, arrived at the ruins, he entreated Hamet to stop, and, sinkins down like a dead man, in the first shelterec spot, slept more soundly than he hud ever done in his life. When he awoke, he saw Hamet stretched across the only way of egress, reposing like a weary warrior. It was nearly morning. A few pale stars gleamed upon the shattered turret, fallen tower, and tottering wall. A | silvery moon, too, shed its mild glories upon the melancholy and deserted spot, revealing Hamet as he slumbered. The Israelite arose to a sitting posture and contemplated his un- relenting master. He had cree the poison- ed dagger in his bosom; Sadoc saw the hilt protruding. His hatred and his vengeance took a tangible form. Was not the oppor tunity before him? Had not the God he served, delivered his enemy into his hand? He began to warm and apd with the thought. His aged limbs felt new strength, and his feet, he fancied, lost half their smart. The chain on his wrist rattled; Hamet had :
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just dropped from his unnerved fingers. ‘The Jew sofily drew it in, winding it about his arm. He got upon his knees, then upon his hands and knees, then crept crattily toward his terrible custodian. ‘he Moor, stretched on his back, breathing deep anc regular, was peradventure dreaming of his Gark-eyed wife and tawny-cheeked babes; faithiul to the King, his master—faithful to them. Sadoc’s thin, tremulous hand descended | silently upon the weapon, clutched it, drew it forth and from its silver sheath. The white moonlight played with it; it shim- | mered like pale flame. curse the old man drove it into Hamet’s bo- som. The fierce Moor, with a soldier's instinct, atarted to his feet. His hand fumbled an in- stant for his cimetar, he staggered, threw up his arms, and fell back heavily. But life was not extinct, nor was reason gone. He opened his eyes in a little while, and, casting them upon Sadoc, said : “Thou hast made a widow, Jew! But I cannot blame thee ; the blow was for liberty. Yet thou hast been false, O Sadoc, to ever principle of honor. Thou wouldst, for gold, have betrayed the son of a king, with whom thou hast eaten salt.” The expiring Hamet paused. “It pains me most, he added, mournfully, “that L leave the black-eyed woman and the unprotected babes. But thus | was doomed, O Sadoc! Withdraw the dagger, and let me die. I never feared foe in battle-field, nor will I shrink from this foe, pale and hol- low-eyed.” “Thou hast been cruel, fierce Moor, and this is thy reward. Thou wilt perish in thy hesthen darsness, without one true appeal to the God of Israel.” “T know nothing of thy God, but to Allah I commend my soul !” r Sadoc slowly withdrew the dagger, and the features of fi the rigidity of death. Wiping the fatal blade on the Moor’s gar- ments, he returned it to its sheath, and con- cealed it on his own person. CHAPTER XXYV. THE KING TRIES THE FIDELITY OF AHAB. The Knight of the Red Cross had not gal- loped far before he remembered that he had dropped the dagger which he had taken from the King, and calling to Ahab to proceed, went back to the fig-tree to get it. It was easily found, there being a diamond in the hilt, which sparkled like fire as it lay on the ground. He dismounted, secured it, and was swinging himself again into the saddle, when he saw a horseman urging swiftly to the spot. A moment more revealed the out- lines of his person ; and, with surprise mingled with misgivings, Mornay distinguished El Za- gal. He had in his hand two lances, two cime- tars by. his side, and a full suit of armor fas tened at the crupper. He was himself in mail from head to foot; and as he spurred up, made a most knightly and soldier-like ap- pearance. 9 “] expected to find thee here, Sir Raoul Mornay. I thought it not fitting that so brave a knight should go hence without his armor, his sword, and his tough ashen lance.” “ A most welcome gift!” answered Mornay, joyfully. “ Generous El Zagal, thou art not to be outdone in deeds of gentle courtesy.” “ Valorous knight, I beg thee to dismount and sulfer me to act, for once, as thine ar- morer. I will incase. thee in thine own stee) right quickly, and with good will.” Sir Raoul never obeyed a request with more alacrity, and the doughty El Zagal, with the gentleness of the most careful page, put him in harness. This done, he held the stirrup while he vaulted to the back of his own black steed, which El Zagal had ridden. “It is a splendid animal,” said the Moor, “and I thought it a pity to part a horse and rider so well matched.” . He then tendered Mornay his lance. “TI can well appreciate,” replied the latter, “such noble acts as these, and I know not what boon i would deny the cavalier who lays me under such obligations.” ’ “ Sayest thou so!” cried El Zagal, spring- ing to the saddle just left empty by the ex- change of horses, ‘There is one fayor I would ask !” The Moorish leader hesitated, and looked wishfully at the knight. amet gradually stiffened into | With a mutiered | “ Speak, in the name of chivalry, and there is nothing but liberty that I will not gladly accord, if it be in my power,” answered Sir Raoul, with warmth. “Jt isin thy power, and I doubt whether it be in the power of any other knight to grant so great a favor. It is to run one course, and to shiver one lance, for the sake of good fellowship and lady-love.” “ If that be thy wish,” exclaimed Mornay, with alacrity, “the favor is to me and not to thee. Faith! In this thing thou art doing me the greatest honor of all, and in- creasing the debt.1 already owe thee. For the sake, then, of my mistress dear, whose eyes are fairer than the evening-stars, and whose beauty surpasses the imagination of man, | will meet thee as loyal cavalier should meet loyal cavalier.” “So be it, and let thene be no hardness be- tween us. It were worth something to have a butfet from the Knight of the Red Cross, and even an Overthrow may not be reckoned shame.” With a graceful salute at each other, they wheeled their steeds, and riding a suitable distance for a clear course, turned and spurred to the encounter. The ground shook beneath the bounds of their trained coursers, and the knights met midway with a shock like thunder. Both lances were shivered, but neither horseman swerved from his seat. Wheeling again, they drew swords, and re- newed the conflict with those weapons, to still further test their prowess. For a time there was a sharp ring of steel. Their blades flashed like meteors, but v.ctory determined in favor of neither. They desisted presently, from sheer weariness. “I am content, Sir Knight!” said El Za- gal. “ Thou sittest like a rock in the saddle, aud thy sword gleams before one’s eyes like the flaming dart of Azrael, the Angel of Death. Thou hast canceled such trifling courtesy as 1 or 8 perchance have done thee. May Allah speed thee on thy way !” * Valiant 11 Zagal, 1 will not fail to report to the brave knights of Spain that I have run a course with the renowned Moslem chief, whose voice and arm are so terrible in battle. If need be, 1 will break lance in defence of thy honor and courage, and make good thy claims to the title of the best cavalier in Gra- nada!" responded Sir Raoul, with equal en- thusiasm. Then with mutual good wishes they parted, Sir Raoul riding after Ahab as fast. as his noble Andelusian could carry him. Meantime, Ahab kept on till he reached the mountains. The King, perceiving that they were alone, thought to play the youth a trick, by throwing himself suddenly from the sad- dle, believing that if once upon the ground, he would be, even if unarmed, more than a match for him; but no sooner had he at- tempted this, than to his dismay, he beheld a naked blade thrust from beneath Ahab’s left arm, in perilous proximity to his breast. With a muttered imprecation, he was forced to abandon his purpose, and began to test him in another direction. “Thou art faithful to thy master, youth,” he said, dissembling his anger. “ Would that I had been fortunate enough tohave had | thee in my service.” “Like enough, worthy Abaddon,” quoth Ahab, condescendingly. “Iam worth my weight in gola to him whom I take it into | my head to serve.” *Thou hast good recompense, ll war- | The Knights of the Red Cross. gone to sleep with it in his hand, but it had | rant?” “Your Kingship could put my recom- pense in your eye, and see none ‘the worse | for it. 1 take not a piastre from my real mas- | ter, but pick up my living from those whom | I feign to serve, but do not. I live by my wits.” “A cunning varlet! Thou mightest serve the deyil with credit,” said Aben Hassan, in a bland voice, though the youth heard him | grinding his teeth together. “Tf anything had been written concerning | the service you have last named, I think I | should have been in thy pay; but it is all the same!” | “ Knowest thou the value of diamonds, | Ahab? Thou art called Ahab, art thou not?” | continued the King, in accents still more | pleading. “TI am called Ahab, and I know somethin of diamonds. There were some splendic ones on the white fingers of Zoroya. I re- member they flashed in my eyes, when I | knelt to kiss the tips of her fingers.” | 23 Ahab spoke with as much ease of kissing the hand of a Sultana as if he had been born and bred the equal of princes. “Thou kiss her hand? Thou!” retorted Hassan, thrown off his guard by the assur- ance of the youth. “The same!” said Ahab. are obliged to kiss hands, when our betters have a chance at the lips. But there is no odds ; it is all one! e can kiss only what is written.” “Wouldst thou deign, incomparable Ahab, to examine this diamond?” ‘The King drew a magnificent ring from his finger and passed | it under Ahab’s arm. “T wil! deign,” answered Ahib, graciously accepting the jewel. of the first water,” he added, touching it to his tongue, then slipping it upon one of his tawny lingers. sand pistoles; which makes a very comfort- able diamond of it.” “Thy judgment is most accurate; that ‘is its value to a pistole, as estimated by the best lapidary in Granada. Now, this diamond is thine—” , “I thank you for the gift, most munificent magician ?” interrupted Ahab, with remark- able adroitness. “And for this grace, you shall ride behind me with as much safety as if you were riding in a chariot and four.” “ I was going to say,” added Hassan, some- what disconcerted, “ that this glittering gem “We servants. “ Great Abaddon, it is’ “It is worth about five thou-’ should be thine, if thou wilt but turn bridle ° toward Granada, and ride thither as if thou wert racing for life.” “That cannot be. I may not betray my chosen master. But whatever else I can do for you in return for this truly royal ring, shall be done right cheerfully.” “If thou reiusest this favor, allow me to push thee from thy seat, and manage the rest of the affair alone.” *T care not to be pushed ; therefore this is as impossible as the other. Be content with less.”’ “ Let it be even less, conscientious Ahab. Connive at my casting myself from behind you, and providing for my safety as I best may, On foot.” Hassan’s tones grew less and less hopeful. “ It is written, King of Granada, that if you cast yourself dpon the ground, J shall cast myself upon you, in which untoward event it might fare hard with you. Yet, for all this, 1 will keep your gift not a grain the less thanktwly, and will examine it more at my leisure when we have reached the stone castle of Sadoc.” Tue youth heard his prisoner gnashing his teeth with rage, but feigned not to be con- scious that anything untair had taken place. Most of this conversation transpired while Ahab was waiting for Sir Raoul at the toot of the mountain. “ How noble,” he exclaimed, leering over his shoulder, “ is the benevolence of hing#! With this poten stone converted into pis- toles, I will marry Nicolette and setup house- keeping. How mighty pleasant to have a‘ youth of my tender years wearying the ears _ of Allah every day with prayers for your | happiness!” “No moret I have had enough of thy wit. I may yet have the pleasure of hanging thee! Here comes thy master.” “Shall 1 show him your princely gift ?” asked Ahab, slyly. “ Do what thou wilt; but, in the name of Allah, hold no further speech with me. I had rather be lashed to a dead man than ride behind an imp of thy unblushing effront- erv.” ; Just then the Knight of the Red Cross came riding up, in cxcellent spirits. CHAPTER XXVI. A NIGUT OF ADVENTURES. Sir Raoul and Ahab now pushed forward cies of the mountain-paths and passes would admit. Aben Hassan said little, submitting | in moody silence to his fate. As luck would have it, just before morning they met one of those ten men-at-arms who had accompanied Hamet on his unfortunate expedition. On beholding Sir Raoul, he knew not whether to fly or advance; and, while he hesitated, the party came up with him. His surprise was om evident.; and the figure of Hassan, mounted behind Ahab, seemed not the least object of his wonder. He had seen but re- cently Abaddon, the magician, and also heard | With their royal captive as fast as the intrica- |
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24 wonderful stories of his occult powers, with- | out distrusting, or having any reason to do so, that he was not what he appeared. Rejoiced to see a face that he knew, he approached the King, exclaiming : “Good Abaddon, I am glad to meet you. I am but just escaped from the greatest peril, our party of ten having been attacked by more than thirty brigands, who came upon us unawares in the night.” Mornay rode to the side of Aben Hassan, giving him a warning glance, which he un- derstood, but determined to disregard. “Then your journey to the mountains failed ?” queried Hassan. “1 think you may safely come to that con- clusion,” replied the Moor. “ Hamet was a brave man. not turn his back on the foe, like a coward ?” continued the King, eagerly. “ The last I saw of Hamet,”’ answered the Moorish soldier, “ he had the Jew beside Surely, he did | him, fighting his way through the midst of | the banditti toward a narrow pass, through | which, no doubt, he intended to effect his | | my master without heeding his follies.” escape.” “ Faithful Hamet! half his nerve, you would never have fled in- arg sake of t thee a pistole wherewith to procure food and shelter till you reach the Alhambra.” As the Moor drew near, Hassan plucked off his turban and flowing hair, excla?ming : * Behold in me the King of Granada, foully insnared and betrayed, and forced from the Alhambra on pain of instant death! Either draw thy sword and attack this Christ- ian dog like a man and a true follower of the Prophet, or fly with the speed of the wind and tell what thou hast seen and heayd.” “ By Allah! Itis true!” cried the Moor, and sprang away at the top of his speed. “ See that the King escape not!’ shouted Had you ten possessed | Step hither, friend, and, for the | y royal master, I will bestow upon housekeeping on my finger, and if I do not marry Nicolette when I am a little older, it will be because it is not written. The person who now appeared presented a most formic.able aspect, and the heart of Aben Hassan beat with expectation. “ Stand !” cried Mornay. “‘ Come no nearer, on gr peril, till I know thy purpose.” “My purpose,” answered the horseman, “is to prove my lady the fairest in the world, and my cause the best! To wage war on the Christian, and to fight for the King and the true faith !” “ Allah ichbar !” exclaimed Aben Hassan, joyfully. ‘ Here is a cavalier after mine own heart. Set upon this Christian hound and make him bite the dust, brave stranger. I am Muley Aben Hassan, King of Granada!” “Heed not the ravings of this madman,” Sir Knight,” said Ahab, with admirable self- possession. “ He has been afflicted with this uilment a long time, and we cannot, with all we can do, drive it out of his addled pate that he is not veritably the King of Granada. Pray, good Sir, dispatch your business with The intolerant and haughty old King was so enraged at this unexpected turn of aflairs, that he foamed at the mouth, and laid vio- lent hands on Ahab, which conduct but served to confirm the stranger-horseman in the belief of his madness. e therefore did not notice what he had said, but waited the reply of Slr Raoul, who quietly made an- swer : “T am called the Knight of the Red Cross, and owe allegiance to Ferdinand of Spain. _ As to your lady being the fairest, I am ready _ to dispute it with the sword, and to maintain Mornay ; and lightly touching tne flanks of | his horse with his armed heel, shot after the sturdy runner, who endeavored to baffle pur- suit by choosing the most inaccessible paths ; now darting up a sharp ascent, now leaping across a chasm, now springing from rock to rock. But the unfortunate soldier miscalcu- lated the powers of the Andalusian horse, which swept like an avalanche, flying over chasm, rock, and crag, with astonishing swiftness and ease; and presently, with a terrific bound, struck by the side of the now affrighted Moor, who fell on his knees and begged for life. “ Arise, Moslem, and attend me. Try not again so desperate a hazard. This sword by my side has sheared off a burlier neck than thine, at a single blow.” Quaking with terror, the Moor made a sign that I serve one more beautiful. But I would not make this a good and sufficient cause for combat; it being a matter that can only hold in tournays and friendly jousts, where gentle knights meet for chivalric sports. Breaking a lance or dulling the edge of a sword can- not make one lady fairer or more ugly than another; and it is more manly to meet on sufficient provocation. I will deal truly and frankly with you, and without the use of _ those exaggerated and preposterous: czeeches of homage and submission, and returned | “having shivered it in an encounter not long ago; but draw thy sword, and I will teach | thee better than to take such presumptuous KY with his captor. “« What yt hed godship do with this fel- low ?” asked Ahab. “Take him with us; and if he again shows us the sole of his feet, we will stop his | running forever.” Afier this adventure, they went on again, but not so fast as before, being obliged to. keep the Moor before them. * Believest thou, soldier, that Hamet es- comes with the miserly Sadoc?” asked the ing. “1 have no doubt, your Highness, that he managed to get away; and, as for parting with the Israelite, he would never do it while the breath of life was in hiin.”’ “TI trust he killed the knave rather than let me escape in the confusion of the at- tac 7 Hassan questioned no more, and the Mus- lem soldier walked sullenly on. “ God deliver me in future,” quoth Ahab, “from the trouble of kings! I had rather carry two sacks of barley than one — Then to Sir Raoul; “If your godship take the fancy to carry off any more kings, I trust you'll straddle him behind anybody but me?” While Ahab was making this complaint, he looked up and saw a cavalier, armed at all points, coming directly tpward him. “My noble master,” cried Ahab, “ prepare that identical iron pot on your head for more batterings and bruisings ; for yonder comes another horseman, veaee up in hammered iron, who, of course, will have a bout with you. While you are chopping away at each other, I shall have enough to do to take care of my king and the tellow with heels. that characterize a certain ¢lass of errant- knights. Business of great iraportance urges me forward, and I have not a moment to lose. Iama plain-spoken Englishman, more in the habit of doing than talking. To cut short all useless parleyini , wilt thou or wilt thou not stand aside and permit me to pass on?” “I am under a vow, Sir Knight of the Red Cross, to let Mo one pass me who is not’afraid to try the temper of his steel; so put thy lance in rest, and do thy devoir for any cause thou wilt.” «I have no lance,” answered Mornay, vows.” “The event will show,” returned the other, haughtily, sticking his lance in the earth, and drawing his sword. Sir Raoul, somewhat angered by the inter- ruption and the pertinacity of the Moorish knight, commenced the combat with the fixed intention of humbling him. The vainglorious stranger soon discovered that he encountered one whose steady eye, firm hand, and adroit swordmanship rendered iim a dangerous foe. While they were thus engaged, the Moslem soldier, watching an opportunity, again es- sayed to show a light pair of hedis; out Ahab, who had not lost sight of him for an instant, pricked his horse with his dagger, which, with a snort and an angry leap, well nigh anticipated the movement of the Moor, and the youth, bending forward in the saddle, struck a sure blow at the faithless soldier, , who fell with a mortal wound in the neck. “It were a foul shame for my manhood, old as I am,” cried Hassan, “to submit to this longer. I will strangle thee, vile cur!” The quivering hands, to which his rage had lent temporary strength ; but Ahab was too agile to be thus surprised, and, springing upon the horse’s neck, turned suddenly, and held be- fore his pf Saat the dagger wet with the blood of the Moor. “The devil,” muttered Hassan, “ helps his own!” and, with a moan of inexpressible abasement, sank back into the saddle, and But it is all the same! I have the means of ) bowed his head upon his chest. The Knights of the Red Cross. At that moment Sir Raoul disarmed his antagonist, and sent his sword whiriing through the air, to fall among the rocks far below, while his horse, trained to battle, sharing in the excitement of his master, and confident in his might, rushed upon the Moslem knight and crushed his steed to the ground, and courser and rider fell together. Mornay leaped lightly trom the saddle, and, drawing a dagger so thin that it would pass between the joints of armor, and called the dagger of merey, exclaimed : “Yield, Sir Knight, rescue or no rescue !” “T yield!” answered the Moorish knight,” 3ullenly. “Name my ransom, and the sum, in good time, shall be forthcoming.” “Wilt thou keep knightly faith ?” asked Mornay. “T will 2” answered the Moor, proudly. “Then listen! My commands are these : Go to the Alhambra, and every morning, one hour after the muezzin’s cry, for three con- secutive days, proclaim in a loud voice, in the Court of Lions, on horseback, in full armor, as follows: “« Boabdil, son of Muley Aben Hassan, by the will of Allah and all good Musselmans, 1s King of Granada !’ “ This faithfully performed, thy ransom is paid, and thou art free.” “Tt shall be done!” answered the Moor, firmly. Sir Raoul then assisted him to arise and mount, with all courtesy. The King of Granada groaned, in the bit- terness of his heart. “ Doit,” he vociferated, shaking his clench- ed hand at the vanquished knight, “and by the soul of the Prophet, I'll tear thee joint from joint when I return to my own!” The cavalier, without so much as looking at Hassan, bowed moodily to Mornay, an | rode toward Granada. CHAPTER XXVII. THE STONE CASTLE OF SALOME. The anxiety of Salome increased hourly with the absence of her father. When a day and a night had passed, she became serious- ly alarmed for the safety of Boabdil. Her fears being founded on intimate knowledge of her father’s cupidity, she was placed ina position truly embarrassing, as she shrank trom betraying the weakness of a parent. Boabdil, since his flight, had found means to communicate with many of the disaffected in the kingdom, and at regular intervals Ali was dispatched to a certain place agreed upon, to deposit messages and take away such papers as might be left. An old ruin had been selected as the most fitting spot for these private and important transactions, and stole from the stone castle on this mission the very morning after the Jew’s terrible adven- ture with Hamet. As luck would have it, the ruin referred to was the identical one in which Sadoc had employed so fatally the poisoned dagger destined by Hassan for him- self. On entering the ruin, the first object that Ali saw was the body of Hamet, stern and swarthy even in death. Turning his eyes from this ghastly spectacle, he beheld Sadoc, with his back against a column, sleeping pro- foundly; for the old man, worn out witi fatigue, could no longer resist the claims of nature. ; This unexpected presentation : deprived Ali, for a little while, of speech and motion ; but being a person of sense, he controlled his surprise, visited the secret deposit, secured some letters on his person, then came back and considered the Jew more attentively. The thing, however, that most perplexed him, was the chain riveted to his wrist. ‘Tak- ing hold of the end of it, he gently pulled till the sleeper was awakened. The Israelite, on feeling himself dragged by the arm, manifested most genuine but lu- ' dicrous terror, shaking all over, and crying / out at the to of his voice. It was a long _ time before Ali could quiet him ; but by-and- old King clutched at Ahab’s throat with | — by, being brought to reason, and recognizing tue face of Boabdil’s servitor, was as extrava- gant in his joy asin his fear. Finding him unable to walk, Ali set him upon his beast, and walking by his side, conducted him back to his castle, vainly endeavoring to extract from him some account of his adventures. The Jew’s only reply was to the effect that he fell into the hands of the despoiler and the man of blood, and had escaped by the inter- positioa of the God he served. His arrival at =
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The K the stone chamber was the occasion of uni- versal surprise and conjecture. His haggard appearauce, swollen feet, and the chain on his wrist, were each signally siruificant of suffering. They had placed him by the fire, and were overwhelming him with questions and attentions, when an ar- rival yet more extraordinary occurred. First, came Ahab, then followed an old man of flowing locks and venerable appearance, and lastly, Sir Raoul Mornay. The entrance of these parties produced effects quite different on the different persons present. Boabdil tarball deadly pale, and uttered an exclamation of amazement on perceiving the old man. “'This,” said Sir Raoul, advancing and pointing to Hassan, “is Abaddon; a famed and remarkable tagician, for whom I be- speak your respect.” Boabdil, who was standing nearest to the fictitious Abaddon, looked at him naughtily, without acknowledging the introduction by word or sign. Both Leoline and the Jewess cuatemplated the demeanor of the prince with wonder. Graduatly the pallidness pass- ed from Boabdil’s face,and a burning tlush succeeded it. Anger, contempt, and un- speakable disdain, shot from his dark and lu- minous eyes. His jeweled fingers first sought his dagger, then his cimetar. then wandered to his throat. His breathing became hurried and his breast heaved with emotion. The pretended magician, confronting him, gleamed at him with his cold, fierce, blue eyes, displaying a countenanice as stern, hard, and unbending as any of those sculptured on the walls of Sadoc’s palace. Sneering hate curled the old King’s proud lips. The princess Py Salome perceived that Someta remarkable was about to be devel- oped. Mir Raoul did not speak, but stoed conve- niently near, with hand upon his sword, ready to interpose, if needful. Boabdil glanced reproachfully at his sister, and said, in a sorrowful voice : “'The English knight has betrayed us!” “ It is false !” exclaimed Leoline, indignant- ly. “ You do him foul injustice !” Sir Raoul smiled, and a joyous flush lent a momentary glow to his countenance. He did not speak. “Oruel king and false father,” said Boab- dil, in thrilling tones, “ thou canst lay aside thy murmuring! Remember, most unnatu- ral of parents, our meeting beneath the Ver- milion Tower. But for some pity for thy gray hairs, but for some lingering respect for the blood in thy veins, and but for horror of so dire a deed, that hour had been thy last! But the hand of Allah was on me, and I stayed my vengeance. Old man, why comest thou now?” He pointed to Leoline, and added : “May we not dwell even in the caves and dens of the earth in peace? Must we fly con- tinually before thy face? What evil canst thou wish upon her whose only sin is love and adherence t0 me? Look upon her! Had ever father a sweeter daughter and a fairer? But 1 will not attempt to soften a heart like thine, or turn a purpose as fixed and unalterable as life itself. I ask again, why art thou here ?” Muley Aben Hassan cast from him his dis- guise with haughty scorn. Leoline, enlight- ened by the words of her brother, now pre- sented a striking figure of astonishment and dread. Salome, throwing her arms about her waist, stayed and supported her agitated person. ‘‘] am here,” answered the King, in tones feavy with wrath and hate, “because I am betrayed, and Allah has forsaken me! Be- hold, apostate boy, the downfall of thy father, and the final humiliation of his ambition. I am lured, decoyed, cheated, and accursed ! Go thou and take the kingdom, and fulfill the dreadful predictions of seer and prophet. Woe to Granada! Woe to the Alhambra, for it will fall! And lastly, woe to Muley Aben Hassan !” The old King covered his convulsed face with his shaking hands, and suffered the in- expressible throes of expiring supremacy and the ineffable regret of departing glory. Leoline threw herself at his feet, but he coldly repulsed her, even refusing to look at her. Her brother tenderly raised and em- braced her, then, placing her hand in Sir | Raoul! Mornay’s, said : ° “The day after lam proclaimed King of Granada, thou shalt wed her!” “Then,” answered Mornay, in a voice scarcely audible, “that happy day will be to- morrow ; for, ere this hour, thou hast been Poon King of Granada at the Alham- ra!” Leoline, affected beyond measure, would have fallen, had not the Knight of the Red Cross prevented her by the timely support of his arm. ‘To spare her burning blushes, Salome, in a friendly manner, interposed. Just then Hassan’s eyes fell on the crouch- ing form of Sadoc, who, with the chain on his wrist, sat on a cushion, near a blazing fire, with soothing appliances upon his woun'led feet. “fa! ha! old man!” he sneered. hast on ta the poisoned dagger !” “But Hamet has not!” retorted the Jew. “You may find him dead not an hour’s ride from hence. Wily and heathen king, thou rae not craft enough to cope with Sadoc, the ew.!” “ Miserable Israelite, next time thou essay- est to betray the stranger within thy gates for gold, make thy bargain at a distance, and in a safe place ; for the traitor is ever held in scorn, even by him who treats with him. Thou hast come off too easily, most cringing, and creeping, and crafty Hebrew | Thou shouldst have tasted the dagger or the rack. Ah, better to have spared a dozen such serv- ile dogs as those, than one faithful Hamet. Alas, my Hamet! Alas, my brave Hamet !” Sadoc laughed like a raven. “ Have I touched thee there, King? Does it not affect thee that I am a witness of your downfall? Exult not over me, O mine enemy! My sin has been grievous. But I was urged on partly by avurice, and’ some- what by paternal tenderness ; for I perceived that the heart of my child was in danger of being beguiled by the fugitive prince. I thought to separate them forever by this base betrayal. But I do repent me in sackeloth and in ashes. I do desire that I may sit in lonely places, and eat the bread of bitterness, drink the waters of affliction, and weep over my trangressions.” The voice of the Jey was touchingly mournful. “I forgive thee, O my father!” cried Salome. “Here is a scene,” mocked Hassan, “ for one of those maudlin tragedies that are some- times enacted by men and women on the mimic stage. Son Boabdil, thou wilt doubt- less exalt this tender Jewess to thy throne ! Perhaps it will take away thy name of Un- lucky! Her worthy father, perchance, has some store of gold with which to commence kinging it over Granada.” “Enough,” screamed Sadoc, springing to his wounded feet, “ to buy thy throne and thy kingjom! Ay, enough to levy armies and wage a war of extermination against the accursed Moor! Gold!” he repeated, throw- ing up his arms in wild exultation. “I have heaps of it; more than thou couldst count during the remaining years of thy life, though thou countest night and day. Ha! ha! ha!” Sadoc laughed like a madman. “It is hers, hers!” he shrieked, pointing to Salome. “ Dost thou talk of thrones, old man? Nota queen in the world brought ever so rich a dower to her lord as she shall bring to thy son, if he will but accept her !” “ Father ! father!” murmured Salome, in a fainting voice. Boabddil harried forward and threw himself at her feet. “1 entreat, O Sadoc,” he cried, with elo- quent earnestness, “ this treasure without the other. Give me thy daughter, and thy gift shail make me happier than the crown I am going to the Alhambra to assume.” “Thou hast her! Thou hast her! I give her to thee in the name of the God of Israel. Meddle not with her faith, I charge thee! Were it not that I have good hopes of thy own enlightenment, this thing might not be. But she is such an angel, her lite is so pure, her modesty so great, and her wisdom so per- suading, that no heresy can long withstand her influence. She loves thee! Ay, she loves thee !” “Press her not, brother, press her not! Seest thou not that thou art answered in her blushing face? Damsels love not to sa Yea,” interposed Leoline, raising her brother, and kissing Salome upon both cheeks. “ By the sword of Omar!” muttered Has- san, biting his lips in wrath. “ Here is the “Thou nights of the Red Cross, “Thou hast a queen,” said Ahab, quietly, “that is not always a queen, especially when she visits prisoned knight, and entreats him to fly from captive thrall, for the yake of pure love.” Sir Raoul then glance. Hassan’s face grew of a dark purple. “ Prisoners escape not of themselves great Abaddon,” added Ahab, disregarding the warnings of his master, “and racks do oot always drag joints asunder when the fair youth, Zegrim, is present.” “Peace, Ahab, peace!” admonished Mor- gave Ahab a rebuking nay. Hasiitl looked from one to the other, and the mortifying conviction of Zoroya’s treach- ery came upon him with irresistible force- The Jew, detecting the torture he was suffer. ing, gave him a bitter taunt. Instantly Hus- san sprang upon him, snatched the poisoned dagger from his breast, the peculiar hilt of whicb was visible beneath his doublet, and before any one could interfere, plunged it into Sadoc’s throat, and was about to turn it against himself, when Sir Raoul caught his arms, and the deadly weapon fell ringing upon the stone floor. “Die, dog!” hissed Hassan. is for Hamet!” Ahab picked up the dagger, cast it into the fire, and said: “It was so written ; and it is all the same!” “Salome,” said Sadoc, faintly, when Boab- dil had placed him upon a couch, “come hither. Let me te upon thy face once more, Thou art like thy mother, whom I shal) soon see.” He laid his hand on her head, then casting his eyes upon Hassan with wonderful calm- ness, said : “I thank thee, O King, for the blow thou hast struck for Hamet. Life for life is but just. In dying I feel myselfaman. My bet- ter nature has too long been imprisoned in this shriveled flesh. 1 see clearly wherein hath been my sin and my biindness. I[ humble myself before the God of Israel. May Abraham take the persecuted Hebrew to his bosom. Salome, give me thine hand. Where is he who is to bethy lord and bus- band? I would have also his hand.” He paused, and for a moment there was a sound of low sobbing. “ Salome, in the casket thou knowest of, thou wilt find, as L have before informed thee, a full inventory of all my treasures, Which will soon be thine. It will more than suitlice for thee till we meet iu heaven. Do not forget the destitute of eartia, as | have done. My child, dost thou really and truly forgive me ?” “Most really and most truly!” sobbed Salome. “'Then may the blessing of God forever rest upon thee! Boabdil, where art thou ’”’ “T am here,” answered the prince, with emotion. “Join hands with my Salome. Swear by tie God of the Hebrews and by the Alla. of the Moor that thou wilt never leave nor jor- sake her, that thou wilt cleave unto her as w thine own soul as long as life shall last !”” “TI swear!” murmured Boabdil, in a sul» dued voice. ~So moteit be! 1 die in peace, in the faith of my fathers!” 4 Sadoc, the Jew, turned a little upon his: side, looked with ineffable tenderness at Sa- lome, and gently expired. CHAPTER XXVIII. AND THE LAST. Aben Hassan was confined in one of the stone chambers, and the faithful old Ali made his custodian. Sadoc’s castle becaine “That blow ‘at onee the scene of unusual action and in- terest. “Some trusty cavaliers are needed,” said Mornay, an hour aster the foregoing scene. “ You should take possession of the Alham)b.w this very night.” : “Those trusty cavaliers,” answered Boab- dil, taking a package from his bosom, « are now on their way to an appointed rendezvous. I have powerful friends who have been working zealously: and I am credibly in- formed and well assured by these letters, that. there ia a strong party in my favor at Gra- vada. The popular feeling humors the tura of the tide, and, by the will of Allah, to-mor- row-morning | will sit on the throne of my father.” unmaking and making of kings and queens | “tis well! lam glad that your Highness before my eyes!” ;
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‘26 has neglected nothing that can conduce to success; for the hour is most auspicious,” said Mornay. “T am afraid,” said Ahab, with his custom- yb familiarity, “ that I shall not witness that & htful passage-at-aruis that was to take | place on your return from the Alhambra, my master. King or otherwise, 1 would not, were I in your place, let him off; for l have no doubt but a great deal of fine sport might be had in tilting at each other with spears, and that you would make a merry ringing, if it should come to the matter of battle- axes.” “It is not written, I think!” replied Sir Raoul, smiling. “Then it can never happen; although it appears there hath been a page or two scratched over ab ut your marrying a princess, and returning in great glory to ain; also, that one Ahab the Witty will stick to your godship wile water runs and wood grows; moreover, that another, Nico- lette the Pretty, will eventually pair off with this same Ahab the Witty. but it is all the same !”” “ Your faithfulness, my good Ahab, exceeds all praise, and I shall be most happy to retain our services, whether here or elsewhere. f the two, I like your wit better than your heels, although when we first met, | was of a different mind. Whatever good has happen- ed to me of late, you have had a helping hand in; and if Nicolette be not sensilNe ot our merits, none will regret it more than “T think, your godship, thongh she may not be quite as handsome as the princess, she will do well enough for me. But I «m in no hurry. I can wait a year or two, or haifa dozen years, at a pinch, and live through it, provided it be not otherwise decreed. You see that & man can no more marry till it is written than he can lift himself by the tops of his boots. Marrying is like death, which cannot happen till the time comes. Yet none of these things disturb me. My love is The Knights | brow or his heart. of the Red Cross. of that patient kind that can endure post- poncments and delays as well as a camel Can travel without water on the desert. Sooner or later, the thing will come ; and with God's help I will bear it as if I had no more wit than a commen Moor.” “Your invaluable servant,” observed 'Boabdil, with a smile, “will never make himself miserable for black eyes; and it will be a stormy day that brings a cloud upon his I shall not forget that I, also, owe him a debt that never can be can- celed and wiped out of our common accounts by either kindness or rewards.” “ Your Highness,” answered Ahab, bowing, I have paid myself by appropriating one of the family-jewels, which stands me just tive thousand pistoles.” He held up the diamond- ring which he had received from Hassan. “I, too,” said Mornay, gratefully, taking the hand of the prince, “ have one of the roya: jewels, and the most precious and the bright- est that ever graced the throne of a monarch ; and that jewel is the princess Leoline, whom I have received, this day, from your munifi- cent hand. Boabdil, King of Granada, per mit me to be the first to acknowledge you sovereignty, and salute you as a dutiful sub. ' Reg The Knight of the Red Cross, before Boab. dil could prevent him, dropped gracefully on one Hpee and kissed his hand. “Nay,” remonstrated the Prince, “ this may not be! But here is one og wi or pe whose hand any knight would glad to salute. My first command is, that you now bay that homage to my sister.” t was Leoline, who at that moment enter- ed the apartment, to whom Boabdil’s first command referred, and never was the man- date of prince obeyed more willingly. “She may be a jewel of great purity, but not easily converted into pistoles,” said Ahab, with speculative eye. “ Never, lady,” whispered the Knight of the Red Cross to Leoline, “did I know the full taste of happiness till to-day! Let thy | ' } | brother repair to the Alhambra toa thron but I care not for thrones, and crowns in this hour of my bliss are baubles that I could walk over without seeing or coveting. All is arranged. Boabdil this night, with a chosen band, will quietly enter the Alham- bra, where he will be received with accla- mations and without bloodshed. I rejoice in his great good fortune; but, lady fair, I envy him not. Thou, sweet mistress, fillest _ every desire, satisfiest every ambition, except the ambition of being worthy of thee.” Leoline, with a charming blush, accept- ed the proffered arm of Sir Raoul, and they walked together in Sadoc’s hall, with mur- mured words of mutual content, even as they afterward walked through life together. That night, Boabdil took quiet possession of the Alhambra, and, on the following day, was proclaimed, by proper heralds, King of Granada Salome, after the expiration of her days of mourning, accepted him and his fate, and the vast riches left by her father long helped to uphold his throne. He was sometimes call- ed an apostate by factious Musselmans, but whether he was really converted to the faith of his sultana, history furnishes no certain knowledge. El Zagal became a firm friend and support- er of the new sovereign, and was present at pr magnificent bridal of Sir Raoul and Le- oline. Aben Hassan spent the remainder of his days in moody retirement. The anomalous aan Zegrim, or in plainer words, Zoroya, oabdil’s most dangerous enemy, fled the Alhambra, and whether she shared the changed fortunes of the fallen king, or sought consolation elsewhere, we cannot say. Sir Raoul Mornay took his beautiful bride to the Court of Ferdinand and Isabella, where her wonderful perfections of mind and person were celebrated by poets and minstrels, and made many hearts beat fast ae doublet of silver and breastplate of stee = > —
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te aN UNRIVALED AMONG POPULAR PAPERS In the good repute of its large corps of Contributors; In the variety, scope and interest of its contents; In the beauty of illustration, typography and order of its “make-up.” FIRST-CLASS POPULAR WEEKLY, aiming at what is Brest, FResHesT AND Most ATTRACTIVE in Fiction, Romance and Novel—in Sketch, Story, and Narrative—in Adventure on Sea and Land—in City Life Revelations—in History, Biography and Events—in Wit and Humor—in Poetry and Essay—in the Useful and Practical—in Answers to Correspondents, Topics of the Times, Editorials, etc., etc., etc. ENTERTAINING, INSTRUCTIVE AND AMUSING, {t mesta the tastes, wants and demands of old and young alike, and is the Congenial Companion, the Welcome Guest at Firesides, in Houses, Shops and Offices IN ALL PARTS OF THE UNION! No paper now published in this country having a wider eirculation, fand none being received with so much favor by that class of people who are solicitous that what they read shall be both pure and good. The corps of regular contributors embraces the following Most Popular Living American Writers: ALBERT W. AIKEN, CAPT. MAYNE REID, PHILIP 8. WARNE, MRS. MARY REED CROWELL, EBEN E. REXFORD, ~ BRACEBRIDGE HEMYNG (“Jack Hark OLL COOMES, MATTIE DYER BRITTS, away,”) CORINNE CUSHMAN, C. D. CLARK, EDWARD L. WHEELER, JOSEPH E. BADGER, Jr, COL. PRENTISS INGRAHAM, GARRY GAINES, MRS. JENNIE DAVIS BURTON, HON. WM. F. CODY (“Buffalo Bill,” SAPT. CHARLES HOWARD, CAPT. FRED. WHITTAKER, T. C. HARBAUGH, A. W. BELLAW, LUCILLE HOLLIS, RETT WINWOOD, MARY GRACE HALPINE, CHARLES MORRIS, MAJ. SAM. 8. HALL (“ Buckskin Sam,” FRANK DAVES, ROGER STARBUCK, CAPT, SATTERLER PLUMMER. as well as the inimitable Wits and Humorists, WASHINGTON WHITEHORN, JOE JOT, Jr., und BEAT TIME, and the sparkling essayists and pen-preachers, THE PARSON’S DAUGHTER and EVE LAWLESS, all of whom cater exclusively for the Star Journat, while in its department of ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS, those who are conversant with such literature pronounce it the best and most interesting column of the day. Taken all in all the Sram JoukNaL is the Journal Par Excellence for the Lovers of a Wholesome Popular Literature. and those secking for what is best and most enjoyable in that line should become its readers The Star Journal is Published Weekly at the Following Rates: Fer Four DUM Fo aia a cnc ncncTecteaecccctaeipens stp anew Two Copies for One WOOP. .cccsccesecyccecccccsis. OROO Por Ome Year.....sccccccr cc cretereesessenseessnecnce 3.00 Single SOR: 5 5c duveWeddece ee sereeaccecessecess 6 COnts Supplied by all Newsdealers BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YO"1K.
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‘Of notable works by notable authors. Beautifully | 14-15 Torers or roe Sra. By Vietor Hugo . 10e. | 88 Brave BARBARA, By Corinne Cushman...... 10c, printed in the popular folio form, from clear, open | 4g Tae QrapRoon. By Catharine A Warfield... 10¢, | 89 A Dancerovs Woman. By Margaret Blount.. 10c. itype; each issue a complete novel and sold et the |... ’ , " 40 Ovrpa’s Love. By Henrietta E. DeConde.. . 10c, -18 Uncte Srias. By J. 8. Le Fi &... f0e : wniform price of Ten Cents each. No double price on A108 Unpie BEL AB. By ay 6 Fanu ee 41 Lost: A Warr. By Corinne Cushman........ 10c. double or extra size numbers. The cheapest library | 1920 Deap-Sea Frurr. Miss M. E. Braddon. .... 10¢. | 49 Wuyxina Ways. By Margaret Blount ....... 10c. ever published; embraces only the choicest of recent | 21-22 Lirrne Kare Kirnay. FF. W. Robinson...... 10c. | 43 A Woman's Hedrr. By Mrs. M. V. Victor.. 10c. fiction. | 23 Sowine Tue Winp. Mrs. Mary R. Crowell... 10¢. | 44 Tae Deap Lerren. By Seeley Regester .. 10c. NOW READY. 24-25 Brrps or Prey. Miss M. E. Braddon...... ne ee cee a eee oe \ 46 A Woman’s Hanp. By the author of “‘ The 1 Was Sue His Wire? Mrs. Mary R. Crowell... 10c. | 26 Taat Boy or Norcort’s. Charles Lever ’.... 10c. Deed Been? ceo RSL pee nec eee 10e 2 Fueeie From Love. By Harriet Irving..... 10c, | 27-28 CHarLorrr’s INHERITANCE. By Miss M. E. 47 Viats or Wratu. By Mrs. Mary y Reed C ‘rowell. 10c. 18 A Wiip Girt. By Corinne Cushman.. ; . “ADC, mR? rtley T. C pes 105; pa 1 ees = ey Se a ee RE tte || : 8,Dw Hs Lova Hen? , Bartley T. Campbell , "i 49 Tae Mappest MARRIAGE Ever Was. By} ‘Mrs. 4 A Srranarz Woman. By Rett Winwood ..... 10c, | 29 A Greu’s Hearr. By Rett Winwood ........ 10¢e. Jenny Davis Burton, 5 Naprs. rue Russtan Spy. F. Whittaker....... 10c, | 30-31 Rep as A Rose 1s Suez. Rhoda Broughton 10c¢. | 50 Love in 4 Maze. By Mrs. E. P. ‘Ellet.. 4 " 100. , ie in Th ‘ 51 Carmona; or, WALLED UP ALIvE. B Dr. J. 6 Two Girts’ Lives. By Mrs. Mary R. Crowell. 10c. | 32 Tae Lity or St. Erne. By Mrs. Crow ...... 10¢. th aera « “ ae oD VOL ’ Sox 10. 7-8 Lap LEY’ RE’ iss . Oc, | 883 StraANGeELY Wep. By Mrs. J. D. Burton...... 10e. ; 7-8 vy AupLey’s Secret Miss M. EF. Braddon 10 y For sale by all newsdealer’, or sent, postage paid, 9 Tue War or Hearts, Corinne Coshman.... 10c, | 34 Tae Gresy Bripe. By M. E. O. Malen........ 10¢e. | .., receipt of twelve cents. i ®, ay », | 85 AnNiE TemPLE. By Rev. J. H. Ingraham.... 10¢e. : 10 LeiauTon Granar. Miss M,. FE, Braddon 10¢ zk TE y Re ig BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publishers, 11 Tue Fatse Wipow. Mrs. J. D. Burton ...... 10c, | 86 Wrrnovr Mercy. By Bartley T. Campbell... 10c. ~ ail a : 98 William street, N. Y. 12-13 Lost ror Love. Miss M. FE. Braddon...... 10c, | 87 Buack Eyes anv Biur, Corinne Cushman... 10c, FIFTY OR MORE SONGS IN EACH ISSUER, 1 Wuoa, Emm! and 59 other Songs, 26 PARADE OF THE GUARDS and 56 other Songs. 2 Caprain Curr and 57 other Songs. ¥% Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. we 28 "Twitt Never po To Gisrrvup So and 60 other Songs. 8 THe Garnsreoro’ Har and 62 other Songs. 4 Jounny MoreGan and 60 other Songs. 29 BLur Bonnets Over THe Borper and ™ other Songs. 5 Tit. Srrme You Wrru A Fratruer and 62 other Songs. 6 GrorGe TuE CHARMER and 56 other Songs. 30 Tae Merry Lavauine MAN and 56 other Songs. 31 Sweer F 2T-ME 5 sr Songs. 7 Tue Bete or Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 31 Sweet ForGer-me-Nor and 55 other Songs. > ; . Ke ’ m 8 Youne Freiian, You're Too Fresx and 60 other 32 Leerie Bary Mine and 53 other Songs. Songs. 83 De BANJO AM DE INSTRUMENT FOR. Me and 53 other 9 Say Youne Gree and 65 other Songs. Songs. ts ey fh w Gan 10 I’m rar Governor’s ONty Son and 58 other Songs. 31 Tarry and 50 other Songs. 11 My Faw and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Toro’ THE Rye and 55 other Songs. 35 Jos’ ro PLease THe Boys and 52 other Songs, 36 SKATING ON ONE IN THE GuDrER and 52 other Songs. 18 Tae RouuicKkina IntsHMan and 59 other Songs. . ; K . pe or Tr * > wer ¢ ‘ s Y ié Ox» Doo Tasy and Weir ethis. 37 KoLorED KRANKsS and 59 other Songs. 38 Ni DesprrRANpUM and 53 other Songs, 15 Waoa, CHarnirc and 59 other Songs. 16 JN THIs WHerat By AND By and 62 other Songs. Paes ane 1 Gare Regen Sp nedp) other Gongs +f inde Lak and 08 other Sovies. F 40 °T1s Bur A Lirrte Fapep FLower and 50 other Songs. 8 2" aa smat’s Bouxp 70 Busse and 57 other 41 Prerry WarLHetmra and 60 other Songs. 40 Hate Sei. 'Guamite thd 80 ther Soags. 42 DANCING IN THE BARN and 63 other Songs. 20 Waar Aare THE ‘Witp WaAves Savine, Sister? OB eB, A A antet ae and 59 other Songs. songs. 21 Inpreawant Pony Woa and 59 other Songs. Hold -atexyuiere, by. Mepamanstes, abc ivg.apate 29 Tun Oty Anw-CHam and 58 other Songs. per copy, or sent post-puid, to any address, on re 23 On Coney IsiLanp Bracr and 58 other Songs. et eae ee 24 OLd Sato, THe Hor-Corn Man and 60 others. BEADLE AND ADAMS. PuprisHers 26 Tu ww Love and 56 other Songs. 98 WitLiaM Streer. New York
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1 Deadwood Dick, THe PRINCE or THE Roap. By Edward L. Wheeler. 2 Yellowstone Jack; or, THz TRAPPER came ET By J. E. Badger, Jr. Kansas or, THe Rep RIGHT Hanp, By = alo win’ (Hon, Wm. ¥. Cody). 4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker. 5 Vagabond Joe; THz Youne WanpEr- ine Jew. By Oll Coomes, 6 Bill Biddon, ae: or, LIFE IN THE NORTHWEST. ard 8. Ellis, q = Fly Yankee ; or, Tux Ocean y CoL Prentiss Ingraham. fey Beth Salas or, THE CAPTIVES O¥ THE FRONTIER. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9g The Adventures of Baron Mun- chausen. 10 Nat Todd; or, Tae FATE or THE Sroux Captive. By Edward S. Ellis. 1 1 =a Two Detectives; or, TH RTUNES OF A Bowery GIRL. By Albert W. Aiken, pr of ‘‘ The Spotter Detective,’’ etc. 12 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to Lilliput, and a Voyage to Brobdingnag. 1 3 The Dumb Spy. By Oll Coomes, author of “‘ Vagabond Joe,” etc. 1 4 Alndaips or, 15 The he Sea-Cat; or, Wircn oF Darien. By Capt. Jacers | Whittaker. 16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.) 1 7 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca- neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. | be, Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy- ages. From the Arabian Nights. 19 The Phantom Spy; a, Tue Piwor OF THE Prarniz. By ‘alo Bill. 20 The Double Dagirers: or, Dwap- woop Dick’s DErtaNnce. y Edward L. Wheeler, author of ‘‘ Deadwood Dick. 21 Frontier Angel. A Romance of Kentucky Rangers’ ao By Edward 8. Ellis, author of ‘Seth Jones,” 2 The Sea oposite ry or, THe Boy Roprmson Crusoe. By Col, Juan Lewis. 23 Nick o’ the Night: or, Tue Boy Spy or '76. By T. C. Harbaugh. 24 Diamond Dirk: or, THz Mystery oF THE YELLOWSTONE. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham, author of “The Flying Yankee,” etc. 2 5 The Boy Captain: or, THE PIRATE’s Daveuter. By Roger Starbuck. 26 Cloven Hoof, the Demon. By Edward L. Wheeler 27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide. By Oll Coomes, 28 Buffalo Ben, the Prince of the Pistol: or, Deapwoop Dick 1n Disauisxr, By Edward L. Wheeler. 29 The Dumb Pa Al or, THE Doae’s Daveuter. By F, Whittaker. aring Ralph Rockwood. THE 30 st fave By Harry St. George. 31 Keen-Knife, THE PRINCE OF THE Prarmizs. By Oll Coomes. 32 Bob Woolf, the Border Ruffian: r, THe Girt Deap-SHor. By Edward L. Wheeler, author of “ Deadwood Dick,” ete., ete. 33 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, THr Rep PrRaTEs OF THE CARIBBEES, by Samuel W. Pierce, author of “‘The Boy Detective,” etc., etc. Oregon Sol; or, Nick Wutrr.zs’ 34 Bor srt. By Capt. J. ¥. C. Adams, ‘wild tv Ivan, Tue Boy CLaupE Duvat; 35 or, THE BrorHERHOOD oF Dears. Dead- wood Dick Romance No, 4. By Edward L. Wheeler. The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN or 36 po ek By Frank 68. Finn. 37 The Hidden Lodge; or, THE Loris HunTER OF THE ADIRONDACKS. Harbaugh, author of “ Nick o' the Night,”’ etc. 38 Ned of Wylde, Tue Boy Soour. By -F the Detective; or, 39 Death Face, mx New Yorn. By Ed- THe WONDERFUL BEADLE’S HALF-JIME LIBRARY. Every one of them ‘* Live” Stories by ** Live®? Authors, a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price of a HALF-DIME. 40 Roving Ben. A story of a Young imarion who wanted to see the world. By John J. Marshall. 41 Lasso Jack, THE Youne MustTanc- ER. By Oll Coomes. 42 The Phantom Miner: or, Drap- woop Dick’s Bonanza. By Ed. L. Wheeler. 43 Dick Darling, the Pony Express Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker. 44 Rattling Rube: or, Tar Nicat- HAWKS OF KenTuckYy. By Harry St. George. 4 5 Old Avalanche, the Great An- nihilator: or, THE Girt BRIGAND. By Edward L. Wheeler. 46 Glass Eye, the Great Shot ofthe West. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. 47 Mightingale Nat: ox, THE Forest APTAINS. By T. C. Harbaugh. 4.& Black John, the oe Se or, THe OvuTLaw’s RETREAT, Badger, Jr. 4Q Omaha Ol, the Masked Terror, or, Dzapwoop Dick in Dancer. By Ed- ward L. Wheeler. 50 Burt Bunker, THe Trapper. A Tale of the North-west Hunting-Grounds, By Charles E. Lasalle. 51 The Boy Rifles, or, THz Unpzr- @RounD Camp. By Archie C. Iron, 52 The White Buffalo. A Tale of Strange Adventure in the Northwest. By Charles E. Lasalle. 53 Jim Bludsoe, Jr., THz Boy Prenrx; or, THROUGH TO THE DeaTH. By Edw L, Wheeler. 5 4. Ned Hazel, Tux Boy Trapper; or, vax PHanrom PRINCESS, By Capt. J. F.C, Adams. 5 5 Deadly-Eye, Tuz Unknown Scout; By Buffalo Bill. 56 Nick Whiffiles’ Pet, or, In THE Vatury oF DeaTs. By Capt. J. F. C, Adams. 57 Deadwood Dick’s Wy “E or, THe Parps or FLoop Bar. Edward L. Wheeler. 5s The Border King; or, Taz Sxcrer For. By Oll Coomes. 59 Old Hickory, or, Panny EL1is’s Scatr. By Harry St. George. 60 The White Indian; or, Tax Scout OF THE YELLOWSTONE. ’ By Capt. J. F, C. Adams. 61 Buckhorn Bill, or, Taz Rep Ririz Tzam. By Edward L. Wheeler. 6 The Shadow Ship, or, THz Riva LIEUTENANTS. By Prentiss Ingraham. 6 3 The Red Brotherhood, or, THz Twetve Avencrers. By W. J. Ilamilton. 64 andy a Jack, or, Tox OuTLAW oF REGON TRAM, By T. C. Harbangh. 6 5 Hurricane Bill, or, Mustane Samu AND HIs “Parp.” By Jos. E. Badger, Jr 66 Single Hand, or, A Lire ror a Lirz. By W. J. Hamilton. 67 7 ae tapes: Joe: or, OLD Rart- THE CHARMER. By Pil 8. Warne, AB ey: of fA Ha ca Crowd,” “ r Dick.” “ Always on Hand,” etc. 88 The Boarder Robin Hood; or, Tur Prarie Rover. By Buffalo Bill, 69 Gold Rifle, THz Younc SxHarp- SHOOTER; or, THE Boy DErTEcTIVE oF THE Biack Rancw. By Edward L. Wheeler. 70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, Tue Green- HORN IN THE Woops. By Captain J. F, CO. Adams. i 1 Delaware Dick; Tur Youne Rane- ER Spy; or, BRorTHER AGatnsT BROTHER, By Oll Coomes. 72 Mad Tom Western, Taz TExan RanaerR. By W. J. Hamilton. 73 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or, CALAMITY JANE, THE HEROINE OF THE Wuoorp-up. By Edward L. Wheeler. > § 4 Hawk-eye Harry, THE Youne TRAPPER RANGER. By Oll Coomes, 7 75) The Boy Duelist; or, Tok Cruisz or THE Sxa Wo tr. ‘By Col. Prentiss In- 10 Eaehk number * | 6 Abe Colt, the Crow-Killer; or, Tae Great Fieutinc Max or tax West. By Albert W. Aiken. y 7 Corduroy Charlie, Tux Boy Bravo: or, THE fm Act or Drapwoop Dick. By Edward L. Wheeler. 7 & Blue Dick; or, Tux YELLow Curer’s VENGEANCE. By Captain Mayne Reid. vi 9 Sol Ginger, Tur Giant TRAPPER; or, Tae Flower or THe BuLackreer. By Albert W. Aiken. SG Rosebud Rob; or, ges: 4 NED, THE KNIGHT OF THE GULCE. Edward L. Wheeler. S&S] Lightning Jo, THE TERROR OF THE rie. A Tale of the Present Day. By Captain J. F. C. Adams. &2 Kit Harefoot, THE Woop-Hawk; or, OLp PowprR-Facr anp His Demons. By T. C. Harbaugh. &@ Rollo, the Boy R Heiress oF THE GOLDEN Coomes. 4 Idyl, the Girl Miner; or, Rosrsup B ON Hanp. By Edward i Wheeler. ~ 5 Buck Buckram: or, Brss, THE FE- MALE TRAPPER. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams &6 Dandy Rock, THx-Man-Frrom-TEx- 4s. By G. Waldo Browne. & wf The Land Pirates: or, THE LEAGuE oF Drvit’s IsLanp. By Capt. Mayne Reid. , 8 Photograp! ph Phil: or, Rosesup! Ros’s SS osbounias. By Ed. L. Wheeler. \ §9 Island Jim: oR, THE PET OF THE or* tack eer ye Bracebridge Hemyng, author 9 The Dread Rider: or, tur TEXAN Duruist. By George W. Browne, 91 The Cap tain of the Club; or, THE Youre & IvaL ATHLETES, By Bracebridge Hemyng, (Jack Harkaway.) 92 Canada Chet, THE COUNTERFEITER CHIEF; Or, ANACONDA IN SITTING Buii’s Camp. By fiwerd Le Wheeler. 9 3 The Boy Miners; or, THE ENCHANTED IsLanp. By Edward 8. Ellis. 9 Midnight Jack, Tur Roap-AGEnt; or, GoLpen GrorGr’s Great Prize.’ By T. ©. Harbaugh. 95 The Rival Rovers: or, THz Frez- BOOTERS OF THE Mississipri. By Lieut. Col. Hazeltine. 96 Watch - Eye, THE DETECTIVE; or, ARABS AND ANGELS oF 4 GrEaT City. By Edward L. Wheeler. 97° The Outlaw Brothers: or, Tur Captive oF THE HARpEs, By John J. 3; or, THE orn. By Ol 98 eae hate Hood, THE OUTLAWED EARL. By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve, 99 The Tiger of Taos: or, Wp Karte, Danpy Roock’s Anezt. By George W. Browne. 100 Deadwood Dick in Leadville, or, A SrranGce STROKE FOR Lrerry. By Edward L. eeler, Ready June %4th. 1 O 1 Jack Harkaway in New York, or, THe ADVENTURES OF THE TRAVEL ers’ CLus. By Bracebridge Hemyng. Ready July 1. Dick Dead-Eye, Tur Boy Smuvue- LER; or, THE CRUISE OF THE VIXEN By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. Ready July 8th. 1 O 4 Deadwood Dick’s Device, S Tue SIGN oF THE DovsLE Cross. Edward L, Wheeler. Ready July 22d, 10 5 Old Rube, THe Hunrer; or, Tue Crow Captive. By Capt. H. Holmes. A new issue every week. The Half-Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, five cents per copy, ur sent es lon t of six cents each, BMADIE & ADAMS, Pavlbhors, 98 William Street, New Y¥
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oS ak JNK i ! An Encyclopedia of Song! ee - Containing all the best Lyrics, Ballads, Burlesques, Travesties and Vernacular Songs of the day—Old Favorites and New— Gems of English, Irish, Scotch, Negro, Sailor, and Student Mel- ody and Song:—all printed in beautiful style, with fimely colored Initial Song from original Designs by the Best Artists.—Wo songs repeated | By far the Cheapest and Most Attractive Song Series ever issued ! Nothing offensive, vulgar or exceptionable, but worthy of a place in every household and in every Song Lover’s hand. ALREADY ISSUED. 1 Whoa Emma! and 59 other Songs. 2 Captain Cuff and 57 other Songs. 3 The Gainsboro’ Hat and 62 other Songs. 4 Johnny Morgan and 60 other Songs. 5 I’'ll Strike You With a Feather and 62 other Songs. 6 George the Charmer and 56 other Songs. 7 The Belle of Rockaway and 52 other Songs. 8 Young Fellah, You’re Too Fresh and 60 other Songs. 9 Shy Young Girl and 65 other Songs. 10 I’m the Governor’s Only Son and 58 other Songs. 11 My Fan and 65 other Songs. 12 Comin’ Thro’ the Rye and 55 other Songs. 13 The Rollicking Irishman and 59 other Songs. 14 Old Dog Tray and 62 other Songs. 15 Whoa, Charlie and 59 other Songs. 16 In this Wheat By and By and 62 other Songs. 17 Nancy Lee and 58 other Songs. 18 I’m the Boy that’s Bound to Blaze and 57 other Songs. 19 The Two Orphans and 59 other Songs. 20 What are the Wild Waves Saying, Sister? and 59 other Songs. 21 Indignant Polly Wog and 59 other Songs. 22 The Old Arm-Chair and 58 other Songs. 23 On Coney Island Beach and 58 other Songs. 24 Old Simon, the Hot-Corn Man and 60 others. 25 I’m in Love and 56 other Songs. 26 Parade of the Guards and 56 other Songs. 27 Yo, Heave, Ho! and 60 other Songs. 28 ’Twill Never do to Gib it up So and 60 other Songs. 29 Blue Bonnets Over the Border and 54 other Songs. 30 The Merry Laughing Man and 56 othor Songs. 31 Sweet Forget-me-Not and 55 other Songs. 32 Leetle Baby Mine and 53 other Songs. 33 De Banjo am de Instrument for Me and 53 other Songs. 34 Taffy and 50 otber Songs. 35 Just to Please the Boys and 52 other Songs. 36 Shaties on One in the Gutter and 52 other ngs. 37 Kolored Kranks and 49 other Songs. 38 Nil Desperandum and 53 other Songs. 39 The Girl I Left Behind Me and 50 other Songs. 40 ’Tis but a Little Faded Flower and 50 other Songs. Sold everywhere by Newsdealers, at five cents per copy, or oo post-paid, to any address, on receipt of Stix cents per num- BEADLE & ADAMS, Publishers, 98 William Street, New York.
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on Beadle & Adams’ Standard Dime Publications. Speakers. DIM Ov ni BEADLE AND ApAms have now on their lists the fol- * INC ELS. 10. Biackbee $50. Li ie be _ a ee ny oe ey oy > oe aienclixe text-books, | Incomparable in Merit. 411. The Lost Ship. 431, The Faleon Hoven il volume contains 100 large} axes, printed trout b Unapproachable in Price. 413. White sno, 233. renew Hand. open ‘ype, comprisin ie t collection of Dia. ee Be very careful not to confound these books 414. Th Gorpent. ait. ‘The Stone Chief. logues, Dramas and stadions (vutlesaie. comnts with those of other publishers, sold at the same | 415. e Lost Captain. 434, The Gold Demon. an otherwise.) ‘The Dime enters fo te comic | price. The vast success of the Dime Novels called ry The Twin Trailers. 435. Eutawan, the Slayer Sar a? an mow hud eseacs tsutans | ft, zttonce Ten Get vei wig ipa | Mg?" Ban ate Gu volum: "; ved in . : = 1 Ricaminae Speaker. 12. Exhibition Speaker The only Dime Novels are how pabheton te. oanen a. pa of Captains. | 438. Swiftwing. 2 National Speaker. 13. School Speaker. | tho. Nee i ag gopyright trade-mark and signet | 419. The Blue boo : 440. The Privates 3. Patriotic Speaker. 14. Ludicrous Speaker : pie always for BEADLe’s | 420. 'Th ‘ , J ane Antelope Boy. tid’ Baticeque “Hy taeda armors Dialogue | * 5 the rrrmsed a ae eee s. he Black Ship. 93, The Phantom Hunter and , new and standard, of the test | 87. On the Dee x 353. T io pectes 28. Pine i oA. Road Fins the celebrity and interest. Edited by Prof. A. M. Russell. = see Molly 854. Old Bald Neal. ¥ 29. The Scout. 96, The Bed fener. ar Wares o . wa 855. , ppers, G3, The Creole Sisters, | 856. Sib Cone, Tranper, | SL. The Mystic Ca Om Dusky Dick. DIME HAND-BOOKS 96. Little Moccasin. | 357. The Bear Hunter. | 88 The Golden Harpoon, | 99. Colosel Cup ALIN J ° 98. Ruth Harland, 358. Bashful Bill, Spy. | 83. The Scalp King” 100. Ola Bear Pow” Yo wiksancle Gest 101. Maid of Wyoming. | 350. The White Chint. 34. Old Lute, Wk ung P 8 28. in Hearts Forever. 860. Cortina, Scourge. 85. Rainbolt, the Ranger. | 102. Wild Rube Beapvie’s Dime HaAnp-Booxs ror Youna Propix | 106. Sim AA aba pL eg Fe a Pioneer. | 103. The Indian Hunters, dover 6. Wide sunke cliaminede tA Ore cancel. | tk ae ee 362. Scout of "76. 37. Carson, the Guide, _| 104. Scarred Eagle adapted to their end. They constitute at once the | 113. Rattlepate mrs i Necker jack Sa Weteal eo en 105, Nick Doyle. | ~ chea and most useful ‘works yet put into the | 114. Ned § : 364. Masked Spy. 39, Wetzel, the Scout. 106. The Indian § market for popular circulation. HS, ee Son F Lapenty, [Soe BirKG, Renegade. | 40. The Huge Hunter. | 107, Job Dean.” Ladies’ Letter-Writer. Book of G@ 116. Port at Last rty. . Dingle, the Outlaw, | 41. Wild Nat, the Trapper | 108. The Wood Gents’ Letter-Writer. | Fortune-Teller. 117, The Mohegan Maiden | 368. Montree gage, | Ss the winks 109. The Sextpod Hunter Book of Etiquette, Lovers’ Casket. 118. The Water Waif. * 369. monsbers Scourge. by The ite Outlaw. 110. Nick, the . Book of Verses. Ball-room Companion, _| 119. The Five Champions. | 870. Thornpath, Trail 45. The Elk King 111. The Texas Tiger. Book of Dreams. Book of Beauty, 121. Vailed Benefactress. | 371, Foul-weather Jack, | 46. Adrian, the £ He The — 128, The Missing Bride. |372. The Black Rider” | 47. The Man-hunter. | 114. Ths Mactnd reckon Hand-Books of Games. 124. Sumter's Scouts. | 373. The Helpless Hand, | 49. Moccasin Bil 114. The Masked Avenger Brape’s Drwe HANp-Booxs or Games AND Poputar | 13 phe Hunted Life. | 374. The Lake ers. | 50. ‘The Wolf Queen, ii Blox r Panties Hanp-Books cover a variety of subjects, and are es- 1%. Bald Eagle. 875. Alone on the s. | 51. Tom Hawk, the Trail- | 117 re ye pecially adapted to their end. Py ftp oe Miners. 76. Phantom Horseman. er, ; 118 Gato, the Gneone Book of Croquet. Yachting and Rowing. - Winons. 52. The Mad Chief. : Two-Han . Chess Instructor, Riding and Detvines 185, The hecebse Chict..[3o eee oy No 53. The Black Wolf. 130. Maa hen Tanto Cricket and Football. | Book of Pedestrianism, | 189. The Border Foes.” (30, The pep uP. | b4 Arkansas Jack. 121. Black Nick. Guide to Swimming. Base-Ball Player for 1879. | 142, The Gagamnore ” of aa, Theene og by eed 122. Kit Manuals for Housewives. 154. Rob Ruskin, 383, The aad Ranger ®. Hunter Ham. 124. Giant Pete. Beap.e’s Dime Famity Serres aims to supply a 159. Snowbird 384, © Red Co} mare be. The teeny a tlass of text-books and manuals fitted for every per- | 165. The Unseen Hand. 885. The Hun inhad , 60. Mon ie SS eee pon’s use—the old and the young, the learned and | 176. The Trader Spy. 386. The Black Wises 61 a SE edt ag 8 the unlearned. They are of conceded value. aut. The Eitalo Trapper. 887. The Mad Horeeran. | 68 The Lucklosy Trapres | 496, Toethtid ook: i Recipe Book 4. Family Physician, | $0: ane avnite omit. | 38% The Privateers Bride | @: The Florida Scout. {a0: Mink Coat?” . . - x u tad aguar r BR Hounskewper’é Guide. “—— and Mil 2%. The Mohave Captive. 890. grees Jack. P & Was -Ca ie ia oy Plume, : 227. The Forest Princess. | 391 Mi 132, Clyde, the Trailer, ‘ —_——_ 228, The Mute Chief, 302, The eee tlaw. | oF — = " Lives of Great Americans, | i ie rumeguem,. | Red Slayer." | @& Iron Hand. = oe Are presented complete and authentic biographies | 239. Old Zip. 305. The Blue peeks 70. Th Xellow Hunter. , let Moccasin. i eed of the men who have added luster to the | 242. Graybeard. 396. Red-Skin' Pl ~ 71. FN Bley oon er, | 187. Kidna, blic by their lives and deeds. The series em- 4 on Black Princess. | 397. The Guadroon Spy 72. Silver Rifle, — id of the ¢ eetsea, 398, ; I.—George Washington. | VII.—David Crockett, | 248. The White Apache. | 399, Red-Belt, the ‘husca- II.—John Paul Jones. VIII.—Israel Putnam. 20, The Border Renegade Til.—Mad Anthony Wayne IX.—Kit Carson. a rae a ys The Two Trails. SONG BOOKS, pas —Tecumseh . ve. 1. Brapie’s Dime Sone V.—Marquis de Lafay-| X1—Abraham Lincoln, | 23: The Border Huntress | 402 The Red Princ the only popular collection of soy it ge containing. Pontiac. 264. Mountain Kate 403, Th iy pop —_ copyright songs to be 7 * . The First Trail found market, bereits ‘ =. A oy a. Sheet-Anchor Tom. en e al ® publi . . Old Avoirdupois, os will: ue ahek, cee es , newsdealers, | 284. The Young Spy. 406, White Gladiator MISCELLANEOUS DIME BOOKS. BEADLE & ADAMS, seipt, of Price, by | 380. The Balloon Scouta. | 407, Blue Clipper Saitceeel muaM Sr., N, Y. | 292, Black John, 408. Dan porte Joke Bonk. Jim Crow Joke Book.- Paddy Whack Joke Book,
Page 32
32 Large Three-Column Pages. 1.4 Hard Crowd: or, GentTLEMAN 6am’s Sister. By Philip S. Warne. 2. The Dare-Devil:. or, Wircn or THe Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham. 3. Kit Carson, dr., Tue Crack SHor or ree West. By Buckskin Sam. } 4. The Kidnapper: or, Tar Great SHANGHAI oF THE NorrHwest. By Philip S, Warve. | 5. The Fire-Fiends: or, HercuEs, rae | Huncnsack, By A. P. Mor os 6. Wildcat Bob, Tue Boss Breiser: or, THE BorperR BLoopHouNps. By Edward L. Whee- ler, author of ‘* Deadwood poi k,” “ Double Daggers.” | 7. Death-Notch, THe Destroyer: or, Tur Sprrir Lake Avenaers. By Oll Coomes. 8. The Headless Horseman. A strange story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid. | 9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover. 10, Vidocq, Tue Frencu Pouice Spy. | Written by himself. 11. Midshipman Easy. ryat. 12. The Death-Shot: on, TRACKED TO DeatH. By Capt. Mayne Reid, 13. Fethasway ; or, Nick WHIFFLES, THE Sup ‘TRAPPER OF THE NORTHWEST. By Dr. J. H. Rob- nson, 14, Thayendanegea, THE ScourcE ; on, Tom WAr-HAGLE or THE MonAwks. By Ned Bunt. ine, author of “The White Wizard.” 15. The Tiger-SJayer: or, Eacur- Heap to THe Rescvg. By Gustave Aimard. 16. The White Wizard: or, Tux Great PROPHET OF THE SemINOLES. By Ned Buntline. 1%. Nightshade, Tue Rosser Prince DF Houheon Herat. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 18. The Sea Bandit: or, Tor QuEeENn or THE Istz. By Ned Buntline, 19. Red Cedar, Tue Prarmim Ovurtiaw. By Gustave Aimard, 20. The Bandit at Bay: or, Tur Pi- RATES OF THE Prarries. By Gustave Aimard, 21. The Trapper’s Daughter: or, Tue OvrLAw’s Farr. By Gustave Aimard, 22. Whitelaw: on, Narrie or THE LAKE Snore. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 23. The Red Warrior: or, STELLA Detorme'’s Comancue Lover, By Ned Buntline, 24. Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai- mard, author of “ Tiger-Slayer,” etc. 25. The Gold-Guide: or, Stren Ary, roe Reeunator. By Francis Johnson. 6. The Death-Track: or, Tue Ovur- LAWS oF THE Mountain. By Francis Johnson, By Capt. Mar- 27. The Spotter-Detective: on, Tux By Albert W, Aiken. Gres or New York, HANDY ANDY.—No, 9% THE WINGED | KIT CARSON, JR.—No. 3, 28. Three-Fingered Jack, Tur Roap- AGENT ov THE Rockies; or, THe Boy Miner or Harp Luck. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 29. Tiger Dick, THe Faro Kino; or, Tue Casurer’s Crime. By Philip 8. Warne, author of “A Hard Crowd,” ete. 30. Gospel George; or, Fiery Frep, Tue Ovrtaw. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 31. The New York ‘Sharp; on, Tue | Fiasu or Ligutnine. By Albert W. ap Ey 32. B’hoys of Yale; on, Tue Scrapers or A Harp Ser or Cotueaians. By John D. Vose. 33. Overland Kit. By Albert W. Aiken. 34. Rocky Mountain Rob. By Al- | bert W. Aiken. 35. EKentuck, the Sport. By Albert | WwW: <a 6. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. | x: Hirl, the Hunchback; or, Tur | SwoRDMAKER OF THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. 38. Velvet Hand; or, Tur [Ron Grip or Ingun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken. 39. The Russian Spy: or, Tur Brorn- ERS OF THE STARRY Cross. By I’rederick Whittaker. 40. The Long Haired ‘ Pards;’ or, Tue TARTARS OF THE PLAtns.. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 41. Gold Dan: or, Tue Waite Savacr or THE Great Satt LAke,. By Albert W. Aiken. 42. The California Detective: or, Tue Wrrenes or New Yorsr. By Albert W. A ikon. 43. Dakota Dan, THe Reckirss RANGER; or, THe Bee-Hontrers Excursion. By Oll Coombs, | 44. Old Dan Rackback, THe Great | EXtTaRMINATOR; or, THe J'RIANGLE’S Last TraAt. By Oll Coomes. 45. Old Bull’s Eye, Tae Liguryina Ssor or THe Puarns. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr., | 46. Bowie-Knife Ben, THe LirmtLx Honter or THE Nor’-west. By Oll Coomes, / 47. Pacific Pete, THE PRINCE or THE Revoiver. By Jos, E. Badger. / 48. Idaho Tom, THE YounG Ovurtaw Or SILVERLAND. By Oll Coomes. 49. The Wolf Demon, or, THE QUEEN OF | THE KANnAwna. By Albert W. Aiken. / 50. Jack Rabbit, Tue Prairie Sport; or, THe CHILDREN or THE LLANO Estacapo. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr. 51. Red Rob, Tur Boy Roap-AGent. By Oll Coomes. 52. Death Trailer, Tue Curer oF Scouts; or, Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Hon. Wm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.) 53. Silver Sam; or, Tue Mystery oF Deadwoop Crry, By Col. Delle Sara. 54. Always on Hand; or, THE Sportive Sport or THE Foor His. By Phillip 8. Warne author of ‘‘A Hard Crowd.” “Patent Leather Joe ’ | Publishers, 98 William Street, Each Number Complete. Price 10 cts, 55. The Scalp Hunters. A Romance or THE Puains. By Capt. Mayne Reid. 56. The Indian Mazeppa; or, Tur Map MAN ov THE PuLAINns. By Ibert” W. "Aiken, 57. The Silent Hunter ; or, Tur Scowr, Haut Mystery. By Percy B. St. John. 58. Silver Knife: or, WICKLIFFE, THD Rocky Mountain Rancer. By Dr. J. H. Robinson, 59. The Man From Texas; or, OvutTLAw or ArkANsAS. By Albert W. Aiken, 60. Wide Awake; or, Tur tue BLAcKk Hinus. By Frank Dumont, THE JpDIOT OF 1. Captain Scawaif, tue Privaterr. By Ned Buntline. 62. Loyal Heart; or, Tue TraArrers oF ArkAnsAs, By Gustave Aimard. 63. The Winged Whale. W. Aiken, 64. Double: Sight. the Death Shot. By Joseph E. Badger, 65. The Red Rajah: or, Tue Scovrar or THE INDIES. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, By Albert 66. The Specter Barque. A Taz or THE Paciric, By Captain Mayne Reid. 67. The Boy Jockey: or, Honesty versus CROOKEDNESS. By Joseph I. Badger, Jr. 68. The Fighting Trapper: or, Kir CARSON TO THE Rescue. By Capt. J. F.C. Adams. 69. The Irish Captain: A Tate or Fontenoy. By Captain Frederick Whittaker, 70. Hydrabad, Tue Srraneirr; ALETHE, THE CHILD OF THE Corp. By Dr « & Robinson. : 71. Captain Cool Blade, or, Tar Mar SHARK OF THE Mississippr. By Jos. KE. badger, Jy. Ready July 3d. 72. The Phantom Hand. A Srory or New York HeartTHs AND Homes. By Albert W. Aiken. Ready July 17th. 73. The Knight of the Red Cross: or, THe Magician of GRANADA. A. Tale of the AL hambra, By Dr. J. H. Robinson. Ready July sist. 74. Captain of the Rifles. A Romancr or Tre Mexican VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid. | Ready August I4th. A new issue every week. Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on BEADLE & ADAMS, New York, receipt. of twelve cents each, MIDSHIPMAN EASY.—No. 11.