“You approve, then, my design?” “The friends of the king cannot approve the ambition of the king to die.” “Ha!” said Boabdil, in an altered voice, “thou thinkest, then, that I am doomed to perish in this struggle?” “As the hour shall be chosen, wilt thou fall or triumph.” “And that hour?” “Is not yet come.” “Dost thou read the hour in the stars?” “Let Moorish seers cultivate that frantic credulity: thy servant sees but in the stars worlds mightier than this little earth, whose light would neither wane nor wink, if earth itself were swept from the infinities of space.” “Mysterious man!” said Boabdil; “whence, then, is thy power?--whence thy knowledge of the future?” Almamen approached the king, as he now stood by the open balcony. “Behold!” said he, pointing to the waters of the Darro--“yonder stream is of an element in which man cannot live nor breathe: above, in the thin and impalpable air, our steps cannot find a footing, the armies of all earth cannot build an empire. And yet, by the exercise of a little art, the fishes and the birds, the inhabitants of the air and the water, minister to our most humble wants, the most common of our enjoyments; so it is with the true science of enchantment. Thinkest thou that, while the petty surface of the world is crowded with living things, there is no life in the vast centre within the earth, and the immense ether that surrounds it? As the fisherman snares his prey, as the fowler entraps the bird, so, by the art and genius of our human mind, we may thrall and command the subtler beings of realms and elements which our material bodies cannot enter--our gross senses cannot survey. This, then, is my lore. Of other worlds know I nought; but of the things of this world, whether men, or, as your legends term them, ghouls and genii, I have learned something. To the future, I myself am blind; but I can invoke and conjure up those whose eyes are more piercing, whose natures are more gifted.” “Prove to me thy power,” said Boabdil, awed less by the words than by the thrilling voice and the impressive aspect of the enchanter. “Is not the king’s will my law?” answered Almamen; “be his will obeyed. To-morrow night I await thee.” “Where?” Almamen paused a moment, and then whispered a sentence in the king’s ear: Boabdil started, and turned pale. “A fearful spot!” “So is the Alhambra itself, great Boabdil; while Ferdinand is without the walls and Muza within the city.” “Muza! Darest thou mistrust my bravest warrior?” “What wise king will trust the idol of the king’s army? Did Boabdil fall to-morrow by a chance javelin, in the field, whom would the nobles and the warriors place upon his throne? Doth it require an enchanter’s lore to whisper to thy heart the answer in the name of ‘Muza’?” “Oh, wretched state! oh, miserable king!” exclaimed Boabdil, in a tone of great anguish. “I never had a father. I have now no people; a little while, and I shall have no country. Am I never to have a friend?”