"On thine own house will the thunderbolt fall, since over thine own house thou sufferest the cloud to gather," said a calm and stern voice. Boabdil started; and in the chamber stood a third person, in the shape of a woman, past middle age, and of commanding port and stature. Upon her long-descending robes of embroidered purple were thickly woven jewels of royal price, and her dark hair, slightly tinged with grey, parted over a majestic brow while a small diadem surmounted the folds of the turban. "My mother!" said Boabdil, with some haughty reserve in his tone; "your presence is unexpected." "Ay," answered Ayxa la Horra, for it was indeed that celebrated, and haughty, and high-souled queen, "and unwelcome; so is ever that of your true friends. But not thus unwelcome was the presence of your mother, when her brain and her hand delivered you from the dungeon in which your stern father had cast your youth, and the dagger and the bowl seemed the only keys that would unlock the cell." "And better hadst thou left the ill-omened son that thy womb conceived, to die thus in youth, honoured and lamented, than to live to manhood, wrestling against an evil star and a relentless fate." "Son," said the queen, gazing upon him with lofty and half disdainful compassion, "men's conduct shapes out their own fortunes, and the unlucky are never the valiant and the wise." "Madam," said Boabdil, colouring with passion, "I am still a king, nor will I be thus bearded--withdraw!" Ere the queen could reply, a eunuch entered, and whispered Boabdil. "Ha!" said he, joyfully, stamping his foot, "comes he then to brave the lion in his den? Let the rebel look to it. Is he alone?" "Alone, great king." "Bid my guards wait without; let the slightest signal summon them. Amine, retire! Madam--" "Son!" interrupted Ayxa la Horra in visible agitation, "do I guess aright? is the brave Muza--the sole bulwark and hope of Granada--whom unjustly thou wouldst last night have placed in chains--(chains! Great Prophet! is it thus a king should reward his heroes)--is, I say, Muza here? and wilt thou make him the victim of his own generous trust?" "Retire, woman?" said Boabdil, sullenly. "I will not, save by force! I resisted a fiercer soul than thine when I saved thee from thy father." "Remain, then, if thou wilt, and learn how kings can punish traitors. Mesnour, admit the hero of Granada." Amine had vanished. Boabdil seated himself on the cushions his face calm but pale. The queen stood erect at a little distance, her arms folded on her breast, and her aspect knit and resolute. In a few moments Muza entered alone. He approached the king with the profound salutation of oriental obeisance; and then stood before him with downcast eyes, in an attitude from which respect could not divorce a natural dignity and pride of mien.