“Thou art a subtle reasoner, my friend,” said Ferdinand, smiling gently. “Peace go with thee! our conference for the time is ended. What ho, Perez!” The attendant appeared. “Thou hast left the maiden with the queen?” “Sire, you have been obeyed.” “Conduct this stranger to the guard who led him through the camp. He quits us under the same protection. Farewell! yet stay--thou art assured that Muza Ben Abil Gazan is in the prisons of the Moor?” “Yes.” “Blessed be the Virgin!” “Thou hast heard our conference, Father Tomas?” said the king, anxiously, when the Hebrew had withdrawn. “I have, son.” “Did thy veins freeze with horror?” “Only when my son signed the scroll. It seemed to me then that I saw the cloven foot of the tempter.” “Tush, father, the tempter would have been more wise than to reckon upon a faith which no ink and no parchment can render valid, if the Church absolve the compact. Thou understandest me, father?” “I do. I know your pious heart and well-judging mind.” “Thou wert right,” resumed the king, musingly, “when thou didst tell us that these caitiff Jews were waxing strong in the fatness of their substance. They would have equal laws--the insolent blasphemers!” “Son!” said the Dominican, with earnest adjuration, “God, who has prospered your arms and councils, will require at your hands an account of the power intrusted to you. Shall there be no difference between His friends and His foes--His disciples and His crucifiers?” “Priest,” said the king, laying his hand on the monk’s shoulder, and with a saturnine smile upon his countenance, “were religion silent in this matter, policy has a voice loud enough to make itself heard. The Jews demand equal rights; when men demand equality with their masters, treason is at work, and justice sharpens her sword. Equality! these wealthy usurers! Sacred Virgin! they would be soon buying up our kingdoms.” The Dominican gazed hard on the king. “Son, I trust thee,” he said, in a low voice, and glided from the tent. CHAPTER II. THE AMBUSH, THE STRIFE, AND THE CAPTURE. The dawn was slowly breaking over the wide valley of Granada, as Almamen pursued his circuitous and solitary path back to the city. He was now in a dark and entangled hollow, covered with brakes and bushes, from amidst which tall forest trees rose in frequent intervals, gloomy and breathless in the still morning air. As, emerging from this jungle, if so it may be called, the towers of Granada gleamed upon him, a human countenance peered from the shade; and Almamen started to see two dark eyes fixed upon his own. He halted abruptly, and put his hand on his dagger, when a low sharp whistle from the apparition before him was answered around--behind; and, ere he could draw breath, the Israelite was begirt by a group of Moors, in the garb of peasants. “Well, my masters,” said Almamen, calmly, as he encountered the wild savage countenances that glared upon him, “think you there is aught to fear from the solitary santon?”