f anxiety for what might throw a light upon the object of my duty,
I lost no time in proceeding to the ruin, in order to ascertain why
these people hid themselves so mysteriously, and ordering five men to
follow me, I made the rest halt near the bridge.

We saw no one until turning the sharp angle of a wall we found, seated
under an arch, the objects of our search. A woman, apparently sick, was
extended on the ground, whilst a man, leaning over, supported her head,
in an attitude of the greatest solicitude. Enough of daylight now shone
upon them to discover that they were both young. The woman's face,
partially hid by her veil, notwithstanding its deadly paleness, was
surprisingly beautiful; and the youth was the finest specimen of
strength, activity, and manliness that I had ever seen. He was dressed
in the costume of Georgia, a long knife hung over his thigh, and a gun
rested against the wall. Her veil, which was of the purest white, was
here and there stained with blood, and torn in several places. Although
I had been living amongst men inured to scenes of misery, utter
strangers to feelings of pity or commiseration, yet in this instance I
and my companions could not fail being much interested at what we saw,
and paused with a sort of respect for the grief of these apparently
unfriended strangers, before we ventured to break the silence of our
meeting.

'What are you doing here?' said I. 'If you are strangers, and
travellers, why do you not go into the village?'

'If you have the feelings of a man,' said the youth, 'give me help, for
the love of God! Should you be sent to seize us by the serdar, still
help me to save this poor creature who is dying. I have no resistance to
offer; but pray save her.'

'Who are you?' said I. 'The serdar has given us no orders concerning
you. Where do you come from? Whither going?'

'Our story is long and melancholy,' said the young man: 'if you will
help me to convey this poor suffering girl where she may be taken care
of, I will relate everything that has happened to us. She may recover
with good and kind usage: she is wounded, but I trust not mortally,
and with quiet may recover. Thanks to Heaven, you are not one of the
serdar's officers! I entreat you to befriend me, and my lamentable tale
may perhaps induce you to take us under your protection.'

This appeal to my feelings was unnecessary: the countenance and
appearance of the youth had excited great interest in my breast, an