to keep them
company.
But when her father saw her in full dress and with all her jewels about
her, he said to her in his own language, "What means this, my daughter?
Last night, before this terrible misfortune in which we are plunged
befell us, I saw thee in thy everyday and indoor garments; and now,
without having had time to attire thyself, and without my bringing thee
any joyful tidings to furnish an occasion for adorning and bedecking
thyself, I see thee arrayed in the finest attire it would be in my power
to give thee when fortune was most kind to us. Answer me this; for it
causes me greater anxiety and surprise than even this misfortune itself."
The renegade interpreted to us what the Moor said to his daughter; she,
however, returned him no answer. But when he observed in one corner of
the vessel the little trunk in which she used to keep her jewels, which
he well knew he had left in Algiers and had not brought to the garden, he
was still more amazed, and asked her how that trunk had come into our
hands, and what there was in it. To which the renegade, without waiting
for Zoraida to reply, made answer, "Do not trouble thyself by asking thy
daughter Zoraida so many questions, senor, for the one answer I will give
thee will serve for all; I would have thee know that she is a Christian,
and that it is she who has been the file for our chains and our deliverer
from captivity. She is here of her own free will, as glad, I imagine, to
find herself in this position as he who escapes from darkness into the
light, from death to life, and from suffering to glory."
"Daughter, is this true, what he says?" cried the Moor.
"It is," replied Zoraida.
"That thou art in truth a Christian," said the old man, "and that thou
hast given thy father into the power of his enemies?"
To which Zoraida made answer, "A Christian I am, but it is not I who have
placed thee in this position, for it never was my wish to leave thee or
do thee harm, but only to do good to myself."
"And what good hast thou done thyself, daughter?" said he.
"Ask thou that," said she, "of Lela Marien, for she can tell thee better
than I."
The Moor had hardly heard these words when with marvellous quickness he
flung himself headforemost into the sea, where no doubt he would have
been drowned had not the long and full dress he wore held him up for a
little on the surface of the water. Zoraida cried aloud to us to save
him, and we all hastened to help,
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