Sybil went over these things in her mind as she watched the battle, trying, in vain, to distinguish the form of her brother. She soon saw to her dismay, that the Infidel forces had turned the flank of the Christian army, and that the ranks of the latter were broken, and they were retreating, closely followed by their enemies. She stood up now, and strained her eyes to watch them until they had all disappeared over the crest of a hill. Then she sadly returned to Christern’s cottage to tell the old man of this new and terrible misfortune. Days passed away, and Maghar did not return. Christern learned that the Christian army was broken, and the soldiers scattered. Some had returned to their homes. The wounded were cared for among their friends. The dead were buried. But Maghar was with none of these. No one could tell anything about him, except that he had fought bravely. Then Sybil determined to seek out the great and learned man to whom Maghar had intended to offer his services as copyist. She was somewhat afraid of him, for he was known to be a powerful magician. But he could, no doubt, tell her the fate of Maghar, and she would try to overcome her fears. She took off the coarse peasant’s dress she had been wearing, and arrayed herself in her best robe of fine white cashmere, which was one of the things that Christern had managed to save. She loosened her beautiful hair, which fell nearly to her feet. This last she did to show the deep sorrow she was in. She also took with her the Latin volume, as a present, to propitiate the powerful magician. The great man lived in the simplest manner in a rocky cavern. Sybil found him outside his dwelling, seated on a mossy stone, sorting some plants that lay in his lap. He did not look up as she approached, and she had a good opportunity to study his countenance, which was so sweet and gentle that her fear of him vanished; and she came forward quite boldly, greeted him, and presented her book. But the magician waved the volume aside. “I know why you seek me, sister of Maghar,” he said, kindly. “Oh, can you tell me aught of my brother?” cried Sybil. “I know not where he is. The oracles would not enlighten me without your presence. Come into my dwelling, and we will consult them.” So saying he conducted her into his cave through a low, dark passage way. Great was Sybil’s astonishment when she found herself in a vast room, with a lofty ceiling. Around the circular walls was a continuous row of lamps, kept constantly burning. Their light was reflected from myriads of stalactites that hung from the roof, glowing with all the colors of the rainbow, making the rough, rocky chamber as brilliant and gorgeous as a fairy palace. In the centre of the room stood a brazier, filled with burning coals, and near it, a large iron harp, with silver strings, and a sort of cupboard, made of iron. A few rough couches were scattered around. And this was all the furniture the room contained.