“That is precisely the question I may not answer;” replied Sebastian, “my honour is pledged to secrecy; and having assured you that your suspicions are unjust, I exact this proof of your reliance: Prince, you must not speak of my adventure.--The reputation of the lady is a sacred deposit in my hands, and that wantonly attacked, will draw down my vengeance.--Since appearances demanded them, I owed explanation and asseverations to your friendship, and I have done violence to my nature in order to give them; but in the former case my vengeance will be as prompt as it will be justifiable.” The stern air of the young monarch heightened the effect of his commanding voice: Abbas looked at him with some admiration. “Be it so!” he cried, offering his hand, “I pledge myself for discretion; nay more, I must believe your strange assertion: but allow me, my friend, to suspect the lady of less singular ideas; she will seek you again, depend on it.--Whatever motive she may have feigned for so hazardous a step, be certain that love alone could tempt a Persian woman to trust herself and her character with a young warrior in this Kiosk at this hour.--I have but one caution to give you: beware how you sully the purity of royal blood! I have a virgin sister who has seen you at our tournaments; should she, forsaken by modesty, forget what is due to her birth--should she be this vieled unknown--I need not talk to you of the implacable hatred of a dishonoured brother, and a betrayed friend.” “As the lady told me her name and rank, I may at least assure you,” returned Sebastian, “that she is not your sister.” Prince Abbas turned hastily round, and eyed Sebastian again with an earnest and anxious look: some new idea evidently shot through his mind, for he changed colour repeatedly, and several times beginning to speak, hesitated, and broke off. “It is no matter!” he said at last, “others may resemble her also--Sir Knight I thank you for your moderation: forget not what I have told you, that in Persia the dishonour of one noble house, is the dishonour of all.--Farewel! when we meet again, two hours hence, at the head of our troops, we meet only to think, and to talk of war.” The friendly smile which for an instant dispersed the unusual gloom of Abbas’s countenance, could not deceive Sebastian: when he had left him, he reflected on the events of the night with some uneasiness; it was possible that Maimuna might have misled him by a false account of herself and of her motive, and that in reality she might be the sister of Abbas. It was possible, that pleased with his person, and curious to know his character, she had either feigned this excuse to visit him, or in fact purposed to send him her page, that such a trust might form some bond between them.