houghts of earthly love intruded. When
Heimbert was alone he would often smile happily within himself, saying
in his own beloved German tongue, "It is indeed delightful that I am now
able consciously to do the same service for Fadrique as he did for me,
unconsciously, with his angelic sister." And then he would sing some
German song of Clara's grace and beauty, the sound of which rang with
strange sweetness through the desert, while it happily beguiled his
solitary hours.

Once when Zelinda came in the evening twilight, gracefully bearing on
her beautiful head a basket of provisions for Heimbert, he smiled at her
and shook his head, saying, "It is inconceivable to me, sweet maiden,
why you ever give yourself the trouble of coming to me out here in the
desert. You can indeed no longer find pleasure in magic arts, since the
spirit of truth and love dwells within you. If you would only transform
the oasis into the natural form in which the good God created it, I
would go there with you, and we should have far more time for holy
converse." "Sir," replied Zelinda, "you speak truly. I too have thought
for some days of doing so and the matter would have been already set on
foot, but a strange visitor fetters my power. The Dervish whom you saw
in Tunis is with me, and as in former times we have practised many magic
tricks with each other, he would like again to play the old game. He
perceives the change in me, and on that account urges me all the more
vehemently and dangerously."

"He must either be driven away or converted," said Heimbert, girding on
his shoulder-belt more firmly, and taking up his shield from the ground.
"Have the goodness, dear maiden," he continued, "to lead me to your
enchanted isle."

"You avoided it so before," said the astonished Zelinda, "and it is
still unchanged in its fantastic form."

"Formerly it would have been only inconsiderate curiosity to have
ventured there," replied Heimbert. "You came too out here to me, and
that was better for us both. But now the old enemy might lay snares for
the ruin of all that the Lord has been working in you, and so it is a
knightly duty to go. In God's name, then, to the work!"

And they hastened forward together, through the ever-increasing darkness
of the plain, on their way to the blooming island.

CHAPTER XIII.

A charming breeze began to cool the heated brows of the travellers, and
the twinkling starlight revealed in the distance a grove, wav