“The queen of England’s ambassador, Sir Anthony Shirley; a sage and worthy gentleman; one, she says, that will protect me, and would aid thee, if--” A sudden light shone over the face of Sebastian--“Tell me Aziek,” he said, “have you heard the grounds of this war? which are the aggressors, the Turks, or the Persians?” Ignorant of her lover’s motive for this inquiry, Kara Aziek proceeded to detail what had been casually communicated to her by the old negro, and by the captain of her guard; from their accounts it was evident that the Persians had been forced into hostilities. A most atrocious act had been committed on their frontiers in the time of peace by a Turkish grandee whom the Sultan refused to punish; this insult had been followed by a train of enormities which obliged the sufferers to take up arms, and the merciless Ottomans had already traversed part of Persia, with desolation and cruelty as their attendants. It was a war of justice on the part of Persia;--not a barbarous contest for supremacy. “Once more then in the broad field of honour--once more in open day and fearless truth, will I press onward to my wishes!”--this exclamation burst from the heart of Sebastian: as he spoke, his hand habitually sought the place where his sword formerly hung; joy smoothed his noble brow, his whole being seemed to dilate. “What meanest thou, Sebastian?”--faintly articulated Kara Aziek. “To gain you like a King and a soldier!--Tremble not my beloved; think you that the God we serve, will not bless me more in the open path of sincerity, than when shrinking from scrutiny, planning, deceiving, and over-reaching?--my soul abhors artifice, Aziek,--’tis a yoke that galls me worse than servitude or chains.--I will abandon this disguise, trust your dear safety to angels like yourself, hasten to Persia, enroll myself in her list of champions, and with my sword clear out the way to thee.--I will win thee----I will deserve thee Aziek!” In an ecstacy of hope, the young and ardent monarch fell at the feet of Kara Aziek; he was restored to himself, he was Sebastian of Portugal again! never had she beheld him thus. What new charm did this proud fire spread over his countenance! his figure was concealed by its loose black drapery, but his uncovered head breathed indeed both the King and the soldier. Aziek regarded him more fondly, more admiringly, more devotedly than ever: “Ah why must I love thee thus (she exclaimed) with an increasing passion?” her blushing face hid itself on the shoulder of her lover. Soothing, grateful and tender, Sebastian checked his enthusiasm to raise the drooping spirits of Aziek: while endearing vows, and chaste caresses, assured her of his attachment, she forgot every apprehension, and whispered only this sentiment of regret, “Life is too short to love thee in.” But when he spoke again of his intention to join the forces of Persia and win her by deeds of arms; her fears returned, and her tears flowed.