A third bull was on the point of being loosed, when Ozmin, who perceived it, made sign to Orviedo to walk up to the bars of the lists, and desire admission; and their appearance was of too much consequence for this to be refused them. No sooner had they got within the lists, than every eye was turned upon them; a silent admiration prevailed throughout the place for a considerable time; every one seemed to take great pleasure in considering the splendour of their arms, the tastefulness of their equipage, and, above all, their noble appearance on horseback. Ozmin, especially, attracted the observation of the assembly by his graceful and fashionable deportment. Both their faces were covered with blue crape, to shew that they did not wish to be known. The squire carried his master’s lance in a different manner from the Spaniards; and Ozmin wore round his left arm the embroidered handkerchief that Daraxa had given him, which was a gallantry quite different from the custom in Spain; from which it was concluded, that if they were not foreigners they at least wished to be thought so; but that they were Moors was not even suspected. Ferdinand was one of the first who had his eyes upon them, and he pointed them out to the Queen, who was not less pleased with their appearance. All the cavaliers, within the barrier, made way for them to pass, and conceived, of the master in particular, the most advantageous opinion. Daraxa was the only one present who had taken no notice of these new champions, and, most probably, would not have seen them at all, if the old Don Lewis, Marquis de Padilla, father of Don Rodrigo, after having rallied her upon her pensive and melancholy humour, had not obliged her at last to turn her head that way. At first sight of these two cavaliers, she felt a slight emotion, which she could not account for; their foreign air excited her curiosity so as to induce her to ask Don Lewis who they were. “I know not, Madam,” replied he, “nor is the King himself able to learn.” In the mean time Ozmin approached the balcony where she was; she fixed her eyes upon the handkerchief that he wore upon his arm, and the palpitation of her heart at the moment inspired her with a thousand thoughts. She could not, however, yet believe that it could be the same handkerchief she had sent her lover when he was wounded, nor that it was that dear lover himself who now stood before her eyes; but as he stopped opposite to her balcony, and she had full leisure to observe him with attention, her heart at length assured her that _it could be no other_.