Having succeeded in calming him, she held out a letter, conjuring him not to open it till he should be restored to Donna Gonsalva; “In it thou wilt find a braid of Kara Aziek’s jetty hair;” she said, striving to smile, “thou wilt sometimes look at it, and remember her who gave it thee: perhaps thou wilt contrast it with the golden tresses and ivory skin of thy beloved; ah! tell her, as thou dost so, that the heart of Kara Aziek is fairer than her face.” As she spoke, she lifted her veil, and fixed on Sebastian her lovely eyes, now swimming in tears; the look they gave entered his soul: neither time nor distance ever effaced their impression.--Thrilled with pity, admiration, and regret, he could only faulter out a repetition of his hope that they were not parting for the last time; Aziek faintly repeated that hope, adding, they must now separate, to allow him some repose ere he began his journey. “Hafiz is instructed to provide for thy accommodation,” she continued, “he has my father’s commands.--Adieu, Prince!--friend!--instructor!--light of my once dark mind!--may thy prophet, may my prophet conduct thee, not merely to thy throne, but to the hearts of thy people!” She turned aside her head while she spoke, and stretched out her hands to him; the half-distracted and bewildered Sebastian made a movement as if he would have thrown himself at her feet, but the feelings of nature triumphed over every idea of established customs, and he found that he had pressed her to his heart, instead of distantly saluting her hand. In a tumult of new emotions, Kara Aziek gently pushed him from her, “Leave me, leave me, Prince!” she exclaimed faintly,--“think of me in Portugal--remember me there, as the mutual friend of thee and thy Gonsalva.” At that name the agitated monarch recovered from a moment’s oblivion; he fixed his eyes earnestly upon her lovely figure, then lifted them to heaven, as if invoking blessings on her, and hurried from the grotto. Occupied with contradictory feelings, the King reached his own apartment: to sleep was impossible; he walked up and down, watching the dawn of that day which was either to restore him to liberty, or to crush him with disappointment. The capriciousness of the Moorish character made him dread some change in the sentiments of El Hader; yet hope preponderated, and the joyful tone now given to his mind, dissipated those fears for Gaspar and Gonsalva which had before tormented him. How rarely does our reason behold any object uncoloured by the medium of passion! not a single circumstance had arisen to warrant a change of opinion, yet Sebastian now banished every suspicion of his people’s infidelity and his relations unkindness; he recollected the timid spirit of his uncle, which might have procrastinated, without wishing to frustrate measures, and warm with present happiness, confidently anticipated superior felicity in the future.