Scarcely had the fiery and high-souled Moor uttered his boast, than,
from some unseen hand amidst the groves, a javelin whirred past him,
and as the air it raised came sharp upon his cheek, half buried its
quivering shaft in the trunk of a tree behind him.
“Fly, fly, and save thyself! O God, protect him!” cried Leila; and she
vanished within the chamber.
The Moor did not wait the result of a deadlier aim; he turned; yet, in
the instinct of his fierce nature, not from, but against, the foe; his
drawn scimitar in his hand, the half-suppressed cry of wrath trembling
on his lips, he sprang forward in the direction the javelin had sped.
With eyes accustomed to the ambuscades of Moorish warfare, he searched
eagerly, yet warily through the dark and sighing foliage. No sign of
life met his gaze; and at length, grimly and reluctantly, he retraced
his steps, and quitted the demesnes; but just as he had cleared the
wall, a voice--low, but sharp and shrill--came from the gardens.
“Thou art spared,” it said, “but, haply, for a more miserable doom!”
CHAPTER IV. THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
The chamber into which Leila retreated bore out the character she had
given of the interior of her home. The fashion of its ornament and
decoration was foreign to that adopted by the Moors of Granada. It had
a more massive and, if we may use the term, Egyptian gorgeousness.
The walls were covered with the stuffs of the East, stiff with gold,
embroidered upon ground of the deepest purple; strange characters,
apparently in some foreign tongue, were wrought in the tesselated
cornices and on the heavy ceiling, which was supported by square
pillars, round which were twisted serpents of gold and enamel, with
eyes to which enormous emeralds gave a green and lifelike glare: various
scrolls and musical instruments lay scattered upon marble tables: and
a solitary lamp of burnished silver cast a dim and subdued light around
the chamber. The effect of the whole, though splendid, was gloomy,
strange, and oppressive, and rather suited to the thick and cave-like
architecture which of old protected the inhabitants of Thebes and
Memphis from the rays of the African sun, than to the transparent heaven
and light pavilions of the graceful orientals of Granada.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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