Anxious as Ozmin was to render himself serviceable to his country, he was unable to resist Daraxa’s persuasive remonstrances; and the lover, on this occasion, gained the victory over the hero in him. The Court set forward for the army; and the beautiful Moor was received by the Marquis de Padilla with as much honour as if she had been the Queen herself. Elvira, who loved her tenderly, and whom an interest still stronger than friendship assisted to rejoice that they should henceforth be inseparable companions, was delighted with this change. Daraxa would also have been tolerably satisfied with her situation, if she had had a little more liberty in the family; but, on the contrary, she was more confined than she had been at Court. She was completely a prisoner. In the first place, neither she nor Elvira dared venture to leave the house, under any pretence whatever. The only indulgence that was extended to them was to walk of an evening in the garden at a regulated hour; and, as if this walk was not a recreation sufficiently restricted for them, the old Marquis generally took the trouble of accompanying them; or, if he sometimes had not sufficient time to allow of his harassing them with his vexatious company, Don Rodrigo, his son, took charge of them, and they gained nothing by the change. In addition to all this, the ladies’ apartments had no look-out but towards the garden, without any window towards the street. They saw nobody from without doors, neither men nor women; and of the people in the house, very few were permitted to speak to them. All these unpleasantries united to embitter the extreme civilities paid her by Don Lewis. This old courtier professed that he only treated her in this manner from the very great consideration and respect he entertained for her. Daraxa was not, however, the dupe of these fine protestations; but losing all hope of receiving any communication from her lover, she would have completely given herself up to chagrin, had not Donna Elvira also been concerned in it, who, being scarcely able to live any longer without her dear Don Jaymé, told Daraxa that she much wished to write to that cavalier. “Ah!” answered Daraxa, “and how do you think of conveying the letter to him?” “One of my women,” replied Elvira, “has prevailed on a man, who does not belong to the family, and who is well acquainted with Vivez, to undertake to deliver the letter into his own hands.” Daraxa approved of her resolution, and they sat down to compose a letter together. The daughter of Don Lewis wrote it, and Daraxa added these words in her own language: “The chief happiness of lovers consists in seeing each other; their chief misery in being separated. I languish in expectation of hearing from you. I die if I do not receive some news from you shortly.”