Sebastian’s suspence did not continue long: one night he was summoned to meet Aziek in the labyrinth. It was nearly midnight when his listening ear caught the sound of her unsteady and hurried steps; she came leaning on her confidential maid: her veil was down, and he could not therefore behold any peculiar emotion in her countenance, but he perceived it in her air and voice. She answered his salutation in broken accents, then sitting down at some distance from him, was awhile silent. The green, and now fading lamps, with which the subterraneous passage was illuminated, cast a melancholy light over the veiled figure of Kara Aziek; her silence, and the rapidly apprehensive mind of Sebastian contributed to agitate him beyond measure: he approached her with extreme solicitude. “Allow me a little emotion,” she said faintly, averting her head, “I believe we are about to part for ever! thou art the only friend Kara Aziek ever had reason to esteem and to regret--ah! if thou shouldest forget her entirely!” She stopped, momentarily overcome, affording the King an opportunity for uttering an exclamation of surprize and of affectionate reproach: “Prince! she faultered out, thou art free; tomorrow thou mayest return to Portugal.” Uncertain whether he had heard aright, Sebastian repeated her words, conjuring her to say if his senses had deceived him: her answer transported him to throw himself at her feet; he did not speak, but joy triumphed on his face, and burnt in the kiss which he imprinted on her trembling hands. This excess of joy was what Aziek had thought herself prepared to meet, yet now it distracted her resolutions, and half-maddened her to exclaim, “Ah, ungrateful man, is it thus that my friendship is returned!” Liberty, home, happiness, every dear and oft-remembered object was now present to the ardent imagination of Sebastian; the names of his country and of his mistress were the only sounds that escaped his lips: they penetrated the heart of Kara Aziek: she strove to extricate herself from the transports of his gratitude and rapture, for, alas! their impassioned expressions glowed more from anticipated emotions, than from any that she herself excited.--Faultering and tearful, she besought him to let her depart. “Depart!” he repeated, (roused from his selfish delirium) “depart so soon, when we are to meet no more! Do not poison the felicity you give, by making me fear that you think me indifferent to the future fate of my benefactress! You tell me, Aziek, that it is to your intreaties I am indebted for this blessing, but you do not say how it was granted--whether you did not incur some wrath.”