efly he saluted the young Earl
of Huntingdon, and generously congratulated him upon prospects, which
seemed to have interfered with and overclouded those which he had
himself entertained.

"But think not," said the Soldan, "thou noble youth, that the Prince of
Scotland is more welcome to Saladin, than was Kenneth to the solitary
Ilderim when they met in the desert, or the distressed Ethiop to the
Hakim Adonbec. A brave and generous disposition like thine hath a value
independent of condition and birth, as the cool draught which I here
proffer thee, is as delicious from an earthen vessel as from a goblet of
gold."

The Earl of Huntingdon made a suitable reply, gratefully acknowledging
the various important services he had received from the generous Soldan;
but when he had pledged Saladin in the bowl of sherbet which the Soldan
had proffered to him, he could not help remarking with a smile, "The
brave cavalier, Ilderim, knew not of the formation of ice, but the
munificent Soldan cools his sherbet with snow."

"Wouldst thou have an Arab or a Curdman as wise as a Hakim?" said the
Soldan. "He who does on a disguise must make the sentiments of his heart
and the learning of his head accord with the dress which he assumes. I
desired to see how a brave and single-hearted cavalier of Frangistan
would conduct himself in debate with such a chief as I then seemed; and
I questioned the truth of a well-known fact, to know by what arguments
thou wouldst support thy assertion."

While they were speaking, the Archduke of Austria, who stood a little
apart, was struck with the mention of iced sherbet, and took with
pleasure and some bluntness the deep goblet, as the Earl of Huntingdon
was about to replace it.

"Most delicious!" he exclaimed, after a deep draught, which the heat of
the weather, and the feverishness following the debauch of the preceding
day, had rendered doubly acceptable. He sighed as he handed the cup to
the Grand Master of the Templars. Saladin made a sign to the dwarf, who
advanced and pronounced, with a harsh voice, the words, _Accipe hoc!_
The Templar started, like a steed who sees a lion under a bush, beside
the pathway; yet instantly recovered, and to hide, perhaps, his
confusion, raised the goblet to his lips;--but those lips never touched
that goblet's rim. The sabre of Saladin left its sheath as lightning
leaves the cloud. It was waved in the air,--and the head of the Grand
Master rolled to the extremity of