With this intention he repaired to the Queen to receive her commands, and asked permission to take leave of Daraxa. The Queen, who well knew that this young lord could not have passed two days with so lovely a person as the beautiful Moor with impunity, wished to have the pleasure of witnessing their separation: “What you desire is reasonable,” said she to Don Alonso, “since Daraxa is your prisoner; but as she is under my protection, I must watch over all her actions; you can only converse with her, therefore, in my presence.” This embarrassed him, and he now almost despaired of being able to acquaint his captive, that in leaving her he quitted what was dearest in the world to him. What he viewed as so great an obstacle to the accomplishment of his desires, served, however, to promote them. The Queen having sent for the beautiful Moor, said to her: “My daughter,” (for so she already called her from friendship) “behold a young warrior, who I fear is more to be pitied, and more a prisoner than you are; he has considered it a duty to take leave of his captive previous to his departure for the army; I am his friend, and I permit him to disclose, in my presence, the tender sentiments that he cannot but have conceived for you.” Daraxa blushed: she had been till now so much taken up with her own misfortunes, that she had not once thought of endeavouring to distinguish the motives of Don Alonso’s actions, or if she had observed any attention more than ordinary in his behaviour, she had attributed it solely to pity, which is never without a degree of tenderness: besides which, her heart was already prepossessed in favor of another, so that she could but look upon Zuniga with an indifferent eye.