s conquests, and having refilled
his treasury, mustered the whole force of his dominions--forty thousand
foot, and ten thousand horse; and once more, and for the last
time, appeared before the walls of Granada. A solemn and prophetic
determination filled both besiegers and besieged: each felt that the
crowning crisis was at hand.

CHAPTER VII. THE CONFLAGRATION.--THE MAJESTY OF AN INDIVIDUAL PASSION IN THE MIDST OF
HOSTILE THOUSANDS.

It was the eve of a great and general assault upon Granada, deliberately
planned by the chiefs of the Christian army. The Spanish camp (the most
gorgeous Christendom had ever known) gradually grew calm and hushed. The
shades deepened--the stars burned forth more serene and clear. Bright,
in that azure air, streamed the silken tents of the court, blazoned with
heraldic devices, and crowned by gaudy banners, which, filled by a brisk
and murmuring wind from the mountains, flaunted gaily on their gilded
staves. In the centre of the camp rose the pavilion of the queen--a
palace in itself. Lances made its columns; brocade and painted arras
its walls; and the space covered by its numerous compartments would have
contained the halls and outworks of an ordinary castle. The pomp of
that camp realised the wildest dreams of Gothic, coupled with Oriental
splendour; something worthy of a Tasso to have imagined, or a Beckford
to create. Nor was the exceeding costliness of the more courtly tents
lessened in effect by those of the soldiery in the outskirts, many of
which were built from boughs, still retaining their leaves--savage and
picturesque huts;--as if, realising old legends, wild men of the woods
had taken up the cross, and followed the Christian warriors against the
swarthy followers of Termagaunt and Mahound. There, then, extended that
mighty camp in profound repose, as the midnight threw deeper and longer
shadows over the sward from the tented avenues and canvas streets.
It was at that hour that Isabel, in the most private recess of her
pavilion, was employed in prayer for the safety of the king, and the
issue of the Sacred War. Kneeling before the altar of that warlike
oratory, her spirit became rapt and absorbed from earth in the intensity
of her devotions; and in the whole camp (save the sentries), the eyes
of that pious queen were, perhaps, the only ones unclosed. All was
profoundly still; her guards, her attendants, were gone to rest; and
the tread of the sentinel, without that immen