"Yes, yes! may Allah grant a long and prosperous life to our gallant champion, Arslan Gherrei, and to his brave son, the young Selem," was shouted by the assembled warriors. "Long live Selem Gherrei!" was echoed through the grove, as they advanced in gallant and martial array, each grasping Selem's hand as they passed him and his proud and happy father; nor could they refrain from giving an admiring but respectful glance at the fair Ina, as she stood clinging to her newly-found brother's arm. Then arose the song of a wandering minstrel, who, attracted by the fast flying news of the storming of the fort, had repaired hither to commemorate the victory with his muse; and here was a theme well worthy of his martial strains. First tuning his lyre he broke forth into a loud triumphant hymn of victory; then, changing his theme, he described the fierce attack of the Russians, when the noble chief Arslan Gherrei was deprived of his wife and son; then it sunk into a low strain of grief, worked into rage against the ravishers. He next enumerated the many bloody combats in which the chief had fought to revenge himself on his foes, the coming of the youthful stranger, his fighting by his father's side and rescuing him and his sister from the enemy. Finally, as he pictured their surprise and joy at meeting, his notes were melting and pathetic, till, by degrees swelling high to triumphant strains of joy, he was joined by numerous other minstrels of scarcely less note, who had followed him to the scene. A band of maidens then, taking the word from the bard, advanced, and surrounding the group with their wreaths of flowers, joining their sweet, rich voices to the melody as the cadence rose and fell with the subject. Then the bard changed his theme to the rescue of the Polish stranger; and as he sang, all eyes were turned towards Thaddeus; and as Ina caught his gaze drinking in with enraptured delight the beauty of her form and features, she cast her look on the ground, blushing she knew not why; while he, the brave soldier, seemed seized with the same bashful feeling. The bard had ceased his strains when a party of musicians struck up light and cheerful airs, and some of the youthful mountaineers, in spite of the fatigue of the fight and march, led forth the village maidens, nothing loath, to the dance; the nobles looked on to applaud, until messengers arrived from the house of the Tocav to say that a banquet was prepared to welcome the warriors. Our hero, whom we must in future designate by his true name of Selem Gherrei, now took the hand of Thaddeus. "My sweet sister," he said, "I will lose no time in making known to you one, who has been my friend under various circumstances, and will, I trust, always continue so."