intercede with Hamet for a surrender. Ali
Dordux was a man of courage as well as policy; he perceived also that
hunger was giving boldness to the citizens, while he trusted it was
subduing the fierceness of the soldiery. He armed himself, therefore,
cap-a-pie, and undertook this dangerous parley with the alcayde. He
associated with him an alfaqui named Abraham Alhariz and an important
inhabitant named Amar ben Amar, and they ascended to the fortress of
Gibralfaro, followed by several of the trembling merchants.

They found Hamet el Zegri, not, as before, surrounded by ferocious
guards and all the implements of war, but in a chamber of one of the
lofty towers, at a table of stone covered with scrolls traced with
strange characters and mystic diagrams, while instruments of singular
and unknown form lay about the room. Beside Hamet stood the prophetic
dervise, who appeared to have been explaining to him the mysterious
inscriptions of the scrolls. His presence filled the citizens with awe,
for even Ali Dordux considered him a man inspired.

The alfaqui, Abraham Alhariz, whose sacred character gave him boldness
to speak, now lifted up his voice and addressed Hamet el Zegri. "We
implore thee," said he, solemnly, "in the name of the most powerful
God, no longer to persist in a vain resistance which must end in
our destruction, but deliver up the city while clemency is yet to be
obtained. Think how many of our warriors have fallen by
the sword; do not suffer those who survive to perish by famine. Our
wives and children cry to us for bread, and we have none to give them.
We see them expire in lingering agony before our eyes, while the enemy
mocks our misery by displaying the abundance of his camp. Of what avail
is our defence? Are our walls, peradventure, more strong than the walls
of Ronda? Are our warriors more brave than the defenders of Loxa?
The walls of Ronda were thrown down and the warriors of Loxa had to
surrender. Do we hope for succor?--whence are we to receive it? The time
for hope is gone by. Granada has lost its power; it no longer possesses
chivalry, commanders, nor a king. Boabdil sits a vassal in the degraded
halls of the Alhambra; El Zagal is a fugitive, shut up within the walls
of Guadix. The kingdom is divided against itself--its strength is gone,
its pride fallen, its very existence at an end. In the name of Allah
we conjure thee, who art our captain, be not our direst enemy, but
surrender these ruins of ou