He was about the middle stature,--lean, muscular, and strongly though
sparely built. A plain black robe, something in the fashion of the
Armenian gown, hung long and loosely over a tunic of bright scarlet,
girdled by a broad belt, from the centre of which was suspended a small
golden key, while at the left side appeared the jewelled hilt of a
crooked dagger. His features were cast in a larger and grander mould
than was common among the Moors of Spain; the forehead was broad,
massive, and singularly high, and the dark eyes of unusual size and
brilliancy; his beard, short, black, and glossy, curled upward, and
concealed all the lower part of the face, save a firm, compressed, and
resolute expression in the lips, which were large and full; the nose was
high, aquiline, and well-shaped; and the whole character of the head
(which was, for symmetry, on too large and gigantic a scale as
proportioned to the form) was indicative of extraordinary energy and
power. At the first glance, the stranger might have seemed scarce on the
borders of middle age; but, on a more careful examination, the deep lines
and wrinkles, marked on the forehead and round the eyes, betrayed a more
advanced period of life. With arms folded on his breast, he stood by the
side of the king, waiting in silence the moment when his presence should
be perceived.
He did not wait long; the eyes and gesture of the girl nestled at the
feet of Boabdil drew the king's attention to the spot where the stranger
stood: his eye brightened when it fell upon him.
"Almamen," cried Boabdil, eagerly, "you are welcome." As he spoke, he
motioned to the dancing-girls to withdraw. "May I not rest? O core of
my heart, thy bird is in its home," murmured the songstress at the king's
feet.
"Sweet Amine," answered Boabdil, tenderly smoothing down her ringlets as
he bent to kiss her brow, "you should witness only my hours of delight.
Toil and business have nought with thee; I will join thee ere yet the
nightingale hymns his last music to the moon." Amine sighed, rose, and
vanished with her companions.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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