rate to the ground.

"I am safe," he thought, as he wheeled round his horse; when lo!
the Spaniards he had just left behind, and who had now routed their
antagonists, were upon him.

"Yield, or die!" cried the leader of the troop.

Almamen glared round; no succour was at hand. "I am not your enemy,"
said he, sullenly, throwing down his weapon--"bear me to your camp."

A trooper seized his rein, and, scouring along, the Spaniards soon
reached the retreating army.

Meanwhile the evening darkened, the shout and the roar grew gradually
less loud and loud---the battle had ceased--the stragglers had joined
their several standards and, by the light of the first star, the
Moorish force, bearing their wounded brethren, and elated with success,
re-entered the gates of Granada, as the black charger of the hero of
the day, closing the rear of the cavalry, disappeared within the gloomy
portals.

CHAPTER III. THE HERO IN THE POWER OF THE DREAMER.

It was in the same chamber, and nearly at the same hour, in which
we first presented to the reader Boabdil el Chico, that we are again
admitted to the presence of that ill-starred monarch. He was not alone.
His favourite slave, Amine, reclined upon the ottomans, gazing with
anxious love upon his thoughtful countenance, as he leant against the
glittering wall by the side of the casement, gazing abstractedly on the
scene below.

From afar he heard the shouts of the populace at the return of Muza, and
bursts of artillery confirmed the tidings of triumph which had already
been borne to his ear.

"May the king live for ever!" said Amine, timidly; "his armies have gone
forth to conquer."

"But without their king," replied Boabdil, bitterly, "and headed by a
traitor and a foe. I am meshed in the nets of an inextricable fate!"

"Oh!" said the slave, with sudden energy, as, clasping her hands, she
rose from her couch,--"oh, my lord, would that these humble lips dared
utter other words than those of love!"

"And what wise counsel would they give me?" asked Boabdil with a faint
smile. "Speak on."

"I will obey thee, then, even if it displease," cried Amine; and
she rose, her cheek glowing, her eyes spark ling, her beautiful form
dilated. "I am a daughter of Granada; I am the beloved of a king; I will
be true to my birth and to my fortunes. Boabdil el Chico, the last of
a line of heroes, shake off these gloomy fantasies--these doubts and
dreams that smother the fire of a great na