By the time the corpulent innkeeper overtook him in an adjoining field, he had drawn from his bosom the treasure of Kara Aziek, and selected from it a bracelet of gems: this graceful ornament forcibly recalled its generous wearer, and fixing his eyes on it with a mixture of regret, tenderness, and consolation, he sighed often and deeply. The gems sparkling in daylight rivetted the attention of Lopez, and he ventured to commend their beauty: awakened by this remark, Sebastian turned round; “Friend!” he said, with an air of gentler sadness, “your kindness has not been thrown away upon an ungrateful man; I have found one heart in Portugal worthy of a Portuguese: take this precious present, turn it into money, and continue, with added means, to succour the unfortunate. Do not eye me with distrust,” (he added, seeing Lopez retreat doubtfully,) “I came honestly by it; ’twas the gift of one to whom I owe my freedom. She is a Moor, Lopez, an infidel, join your prayers with mine for her conversion and her salvation: promise me that you will never pray, without soliciting the saints to intercede in Heaven for her soul.” Again Lopez thought his companion mad, and gently putting aside the bracelet, exclaimed, “Poor youth! I would not rob thee for the whole world; thy brain is disordered, thou knowest not what thou are doing.” Touched with such uncommon disinterestedness, the amiable monarch exerted himself to convince Lopez that he was perfectly reasonable and sincere; after much difficulty he succeeded: Lopez took the jewels, and gave up his title to Barémel. Sebastian squeezed the hand of his host, and telling him to remember the Moorish lady in his prayers, plunged into a neighbouring thicket. The royal wanderer was now journeying towards the river Zadaon, near the extremity of which lay the home of Gaspar: he hoped to learn there something of that humble friend, to have preserved whose life he would willingly have poured forth all his blood; and hope yet surviving every shock, began to soothe him with promises of Gaspar’s safety. On that subject alone, could hope exert her heart-supporting influence, all others were desperate; and the wretched Sebastian, blasted in every tender expectation, dishonored by the matchless depravity of her who was to have shared his throne, wished only to find some gloomy solitude where he might bury his shame and his despair. A betrayed lover cannot easily learn to think of the woman who once entranced him, in any other manner than that to which he has been accustomed; impressions repeated again and again are not to be immediately effaced by one impression, however just; the heart retains its first print of excellence long after a faithless object has ceased to impress it: we may regret without weakness for a while, what it would be meanness to love on, for ever; in short, we may lament that the brightest vision of our days was _but_ a vision!