When he recollected their last interview, and the sudden conjecture to which it had given birth, a mixture of joy and alarm quickened the pulses of his heart: Kara Aziek had surely indicated a change in her religious sentiments; her female companion was then affecting that conversion which her lover had vainly attempted. But what was the creed of this Christian? if she were of the Reformed Church (the new religion of England,) she was instilling “a damnable heresy,” instead of planting the true faith. In the ear of Sebastian the names of Luther and Calvin, sounded like the voice of Satan: with the tremulous pertinacity of a son of Rome, he had constantly refused even to hear their doctrines discussed, and now that he apprehended Kara Aziek might be bewitched by their sophistry, he gave himself up to temporary despair. This transport of zeal aggravated his impatience for the hour which should restore her to him, and made him quicken the preparations of that part of the Persian army which he was destined to command in conjunction with a native officer. On the night preceding the march of these new levies, Sebastian was surprised by an extraordinary visit. His courteous host had given up to him a Kiosk in the gardens, which he occupied solely, and slept in, without guard or attendants. The tranquil beauty of a fine night detained him long from rest; he leaned over an open trellis (through which the most luxuriant honeysuckles and jessamine had interlaced themselves,) alternately admiring the universal blush caused by the thickets of roses, and the splendor of the Kiosk, whose alabaster sides reflected the brighter moonlight. Nightingales answering each other from different distances, some near, some remote, blending their liquid notes together in sweet confusion, now pausing, now proceeding, diffused enchantment over the scene. Those melodious sobbings which seem the overflowings of love too exquisite, too happy,--those melodious sobbings were echoed by the sighs of Sebastian: his country, his friend Caspar, his beloved Aziek, seemed speaking in every note; he felt them present to his heart, though absent from his sight, and the most passionate melancholy, an emotion at once painful and delicious, penetrated his whole being. In this state of abstraction, the steps of two persons advancing to the Kiosk were long unheard; at length the rustling of some shrubs through which they pressed, made the King look towards the spot, and he beheld with some surprize a female figure, and one in male attire, whose dress bespoke him a servant. The lady motioned for the slave to remain without, and entered the saloon. Of what “fantastic stuff,” are the thoughts of a lover formed! Sebastian lived only for Aziek, and without conceiving how she could have come thither, he believed that it was her whom he now saw: he rose, rushed towards her, and extending his arms to snatch her to him, found himself modestly repulsed.