“Bear with me now awhile rather,” cries Ayub, detaining him by the folds of his embroidered robe. “O Abdul-asis, remember the words of your father: ‘Beware, my son, of the seductions of love. It renders the mighty weak and makes slaves of princes.’” The colour on the face of the Emir deepened into a flush of wrath. He was weary of hearing these words ever repeated--yet he kept silence. “Time was, my cousin,” continues the discreet Ayub, “when you listened to my words, and all went well. Now, for the sake of a strange woman, a slave, a captive, you are bartering your kingdom.” At this coarse allusion to the royal Egilona [Illustration: Moorish Mills in the Guadalquivir, at Cordova.] [Illustration] Abdul-asis could scarcely resist the temptation of enlightening Ayub as to her real condition, but he forebore. “It is my right, O Ayub, to love whom I choose,” he answers coldly, again preparing to mount his horse. Again Ayub arrests him, and, forgetting all respect in the heat of his argument, fairly shouts in his ear: “Yes, O son of the great Mousa, but not like that glorious warrior. Yes, free to love a whole tribe of slaves if you please, gather all the beauties from the corners of the earth, the houris of Paradise, if you can get them, but you have no right to sacrifice your throne and bring ruin on your race.” To this torrent of reproach Abdul-asis answered not a word. Steadying by his touch and voice the exasperated horse, which had now become restive under the delay, as if sharing in the irritation of his master, Abdul-asis surveyed his cousin as if to demand what more abuse he had in store--a look and manner which only exasperated Ayub all the more. “What kind of a sovereign are you,” he continued, in the same shrill voice, which echoed round the court and could not fail to reach the ears of the guards and eunuchs, however unmoved their countenances might remain, “who pretend to have no time to administer justice in the Gate as your Moorish ancestors did? Who neglect to review your troops in the great plains about the city and to take counsel upon the affairs of state with the chiefs and counsellors sent hither by the Caliph? Can you expect that he will continue you as governor, when the report of your acts comes to his ears? With you will fall your father Mousa and your brothers in Africa. Who is this witch who has overlooked you? Send her away, or by the name of Allah I will no longer screen you!” Even the discreet Ayub paused here for lack of breath, and the young Emir, quickly vaulting into the saddle, rode off in a cloud of dust, followed by his attendants. Yet, spite of these stinging words, his passion for Egilona was so consuming, that although he felt their truth and that he was entering upon a career full of danger, he could neither pause before it was too late, nor turn back altogether.