“Rely on the word of a King, and the faith of a friend!” he concluded, “all this I solemnly swear to perform should heaven restore me to my throne.--When we meet again, may it be in our dear native land!--then Gaspar thou shalt see how much I love thee.” Transported with such goodness, the tender-hearted youth wept like a woman; his sovereign’s heart beat high with hope, and could not admit regret; he anticipated a blissful hour of future meeting, and gently chiding his companion, leaped the window of their chamber:--Gaspar followed more cautiously. Sebastian was lightly clothed in a habit sent him by Kara Aziek, which he had never yet worn, and therefore could not be described by; in his girdle was stuck a small hatchet, and a Moorish knife, for the purpose of defence; over his shoulder was flung a sort of basket, containing a few Tourkia cakes and dried meats, which he had saved from the daily presents of Aziek. A short circuit brought them to their place of destination: pushing aside the trees, they gently drew away the loose stones that concealed the aperture; the sullen sound of the river was heard through it: Gaspar looked up fearfully to the sky; the clouds there were thick and dull, but something like light gleamed through them in parts proceeding from the moon now at her full: Sebastian whispered him to be of good cheer; then turning hastily round, he grasped him to his heart without speaking. Both the King and the soldier trembled in each other’s embrace; at length sinking from his sovereign’s arms, Gaspar embraced his knees without being able to articulate a single word: Sebastian hastily raised him, embraced him once more, then pressed through the aperture. With breathless attention Gaspar listened to the rustling of the bushes on the opposite side through which Sebastian had rushed; the next moment he distinctly heard him plunge into the river: at that fearful crisis he crossed his breast and his forehead, and remained kneeling in an agony of supplication; but suddenly recollecting his friend’s injunctions, he hastily filled up the chasm of the wall at each extremity. At every blast of wind sweeping through the leafy branches over his head, (while thus employed,) he almost fancied that he heard the drowning voice of his King: once he thought the sound of a gun had mingled with the blast, but it was not repeated, and his apprehension ceased. By degrees the wind sunk into a low moan, only mixed with the hoarse dashing of the water; neither voice nor step came any longer to his ear: the faithful soldier then sorrowfully arose, and returned to his solitary chamber; piously endeavouring there to cast his cares upon that Almighty Protector who alone is able to destroy and to save. CHAP. II.