“If this be all that you have to tell me,” said the Marquis, “the Queen will not gain much information by having sent me hither. She is not ignorant of the quarrel that you had with the stranger, the beautiful Moor and Donna Elvira having explained it to her; she thought that you would be able to satisfy her more fully on the subject; and the whole Court as well as the Queen are astonished that two cavaliers, after having performed two such glorious actions, should take as much pains to conceal themselves, as others generally take to make themselves known. Ferdinand himself is anxious that they should come forward and receive the prizes that are destined for them, and especially for the last, who, according to all appearance, was not a man of any distinguished rank.” “Judging from his dress,” cried Don Alonso, “I was, at first, of the same opinion, but I feel convinced of my mistake; whoever he be I will venture to say, that he is a great man; and I can say no more on the subject.” The Marquis d’Astorgas, finding that he could gain no further information from Zuniga, returned to the Queen. It was believed at Court that all this was not without mystery, and that Don Alonso, in return for the generosity that he had experienced, would not betray a cavalier who wished to be incognito. As for Daraxa, nobody suspected that she was at all privy to the matter; and the concern that she had evinced during the sports, was attributed solely to the misfortune of Don Alonso. It was very reasonably thought that she was kind enough to feel interested for a young nobleman, who was her champion as well as her adorer. She enjoyed in private the undivided pleasure of knowing what had happened; but this happiness was accompanied by the intrusion of many anxious thoughts. She had distinctly heard what Ozmin had said to his rival about the knot of ribbon, and she so well knew the delicate feelings of the Moors on such occasions, that she reproached herself with imprudence for having given to Zuniga any thing that had been presented to her by so dear a hand. She could find no excuse for having committed this fault, although her heart had no participation in it. She could not write to Ozmin, for she knew not where he was to be found; she could only hope that her lover would find some means or other of communicating with her. Several days passed in this sweet yet painful expectation; sometimes she reflected with pleasure that her future husband was in the same city as herself, and at other times, was distractedly impatient to see him. Time, however, brings every thing about.