Her first glance at the dreaded Infidel was transient; but soon she took another, and a longer look; and curiosity was, in its turn, succeeded by sympathy. The Russian prisoner was the handsomest man on whom her eye had ever rested, and it was not thus that she had pictured to herself the dreaded Muscovite. He was unhappy too, for in his solitary moments he paced the floor with hurried and unequal steps, like one who is grappling with some painful memory; and at times sat sadly, with his head pillowed on his hand, and his fingers wreathed amid the wavy hair which encircled his brow; looking so mournful, and above all so fascinating, that the fair Rèchèdi at last began to weep as she clung to her lattice, with her gaze riveted upon him; and to find more happiness in those tears, than in all the simple pleasures that had hitherto formed the charm of her existence. Little did the young Hanoum suspect that she loved the Giaour. She never dreamt of passion; but, with all the generous anxiety of innocence, unconscious that a warmer feeling than that of mere pity urged her to the effort, she began to muse upon the means of diminishing the irksomeness of a captivity which she was incapable of terminating. The first, the most natural impulse led her to sweep her hands across the chords of her Zebec; and as she remarked the start of agreeable surprise with which the sound was greeted by the courtly prisoner, her young heart bounded with joy, and the wild song gushed forth in a burst of sweetness which chained the attention of the captive, and afforded to the delighted girl the opportunity of a long, long look, that more than repaid her for her minstrelsy. During the evening she watched to ascertain whether a repetition of her song would be expected, and she did not watch in vain; for more than once the Russian noble leant from his casement, and seemed to listen; but he came not there alone; one of his companions in captivity was beside him; and Rèchèdi Hanoum, although she guessed not wherefore, had suddenly become jealous of her minstrelsy, and would not exhibit it before a third person. On the morrow, an equally graceful, and equally successful effort whiled the prisoner for a time from his sorrows. A cluster of roses, woven together with a tress of bright dark hair, was flung from the casement of the young beauty, at a moment when the back of the stranger was turned towards her. It fell at his feet, and was secured and pressed to his lips, with a respectful courtesy that quickened the pulses of the donor; but not a glimpse of the fair girl accompanied the gift; and it seemed as though the Baron had suspected wherefore, for ere long he was alone in his apartment; and, when he had dismissed his attendants, he once more advanced to the window, and glanced anxiously towards the jealous lattices by which it was overlooked.