oabdil
motioned to one amongst the crowd. "Hamet," said he, "thou hast examined
the state of the Christian camp; what news dost thou bring?"

"Light of the Faithful," answered the Moor, "it is a camp no longer--it
has already become a city. Nine towns of Spain were charged with the
task; stone has taken the place of canvas; towers and streets arise like
the buildings of a genius; and the misbelieving king hath sworn that
this new city shall not be left until Granada sees his standard on its
walls."

"Go on," said Boabdil, calmly.

"Traders and men of merchandise flock thither daily; the spot is one
bazaar; all that should supply our famishing country pours its plenty
into their mart."

Boabdil motioned to the Moor to withdraw, and an alfaqui advanced in his
stead.

"Successor of the Prophet, and darling of the world!" said the reverend
man, "the alfaquis and seers of Granada implore thee on their knees to
listen to their voice. They have consulted the Books of Fate; thy have
implored a sign from the Prophet; and they find that the glory has left
thy people and thy crown. The fall of Granada is predestined; God is
great!"

"You shall have my answer forthwith," said Boabdil. "Abdelemic,
approach."

From the crowd came an aged and white-bearded man, the governor of the
city.

"Speak, old man," said the king.

"Oh, Boabdil!" said the veteran, with faltering tones, while the tears
rolled down his cheeks; "son of a race of kings and heroes! would that
thy servant had fallen dead on thy threshold this day, and that the
lips of a Moorish noble had never been polluted by the words that I
now utter! Our state is hopeless; our granaries are as the sands of the
desert: there is in them life neither for beast nor man. The war-horse
that bore the hero is now consumed for his food; the population of thy
city, with one voice, cry for chains and--bread! I have spoken."

"Admit the Ambassador of Egypt," said Boabdil, as Abdelmelic retired.
There was a pause: one of the draperies at the end of the hall was drawn
aside; and with the slow and sedate majesty of their tribe and land,
paced forth a dark and swarthy train, the envoys of the Egyptian soldan.
Six of the band bore costly presents of gems and weapons, and the
procession closed with four veiled slaves, whose beauty had been the
boast of the ancient valley of the Nile.

"Sun of Granada and day--star of the faithful!" said the chief of the
Egyptians, "my lord, the Sold