The expressive countenance of Sebastian, and his own quickness of perception, supplied the place of language between him and the Persians: after some difficulty, he procured a bath, refreshment, and then a conductor to the mansion of the ambassador. Having thrown off his Moorish habit, and put on a suit of old armour, which he had collected from different shops at Mecca, he prepared to issue forth. Ill-assorted and imperfect as this armour was, it yet clouded not the manly graces of the wearer: his gallant looks ennobled a homely cuirass, and might have made the harness of trimmer knights appear but the trapping of military idleness. Brightened by a variety of animating feelings, his countenance formed a strong contrast to the sombre hue of his iron mail. The man who acted as guide led him through streets intersected with gardens and canals, to a wide square, in which stood the palace of the Sophi, and the residence of the ambassador: there he left him. Among the domestics of the Englishman, fortunately there was an Italian, to whom Sebastian addressed himself, “Tell your master,” he said, “that a stranger, a Christian knight, asks to converse with him alone.” The Italian eyed him with surprize, but the air of the stranger awed curiosity into silence, and he respectfully withdrew. Sir Anthony Shirley,[A] (to whom is that name unknown?) had lived in the memorable court of Queen Elizabeth, he had breathed the same air with Raleigh, Cecil, and Sidney; he had listened with admiration to the immortal Shakespeare; he was now come to represent his sovereign at the distant court of Persia, giving there a wondrous example of perfect goodness and profound wisdom unalloyed by one visible failing. [A] To lessen the number of agents necessary for the plan of this romance, the author has ventured occasional violations of chronology: in the above instance, she has antedated the birth and mission of Sir Anthony Shirley, who did not really reside at the magnificent capital of Schah Abbas, till several years later. The title of stranger was an immediate passport to his courtesy, but when coupled with that of a Christian knight, courtesy changed into kindness. On the entrance of Sebastian, he rose and embraced him: “in this country,” he said, “Christians should indeed think themselves brethren,--far from our homes and our altars the heart eagerly throws off the restraint of ceremony, and finds relationship in opinions and principles.” Sir Anthony spoke in his own language, of which Sebastian was ignorant; he shook his head with a thanking smile, that shewed he felt the meaning of those words merely from the tone in which they were uttered, and recollecting himself an instant, replied in Portuguese, and then in Latin: Shirley looked at him with pleased surprize while opening the letter which he presented.