Bertha stretched out her hand kindly to the emir, and answered, “Good night, brave and adventurous son of the renowned Hygies. We must meet early to-morrow, and be prepared for our journey.” “Ay, truly,” answered Nurreddin; “but I pray you, do not call me as you now did, the son of Hygies; for though I respect his memory who was ennobled by such brave exploits, yet the reflection, that he neither brought me to my mother’s parents, the king and queen at Damascus, nor to his own home, which remains still unknown, but that I was left amid the wild wandering Arabs to be educated as chance might direct;--these thoughts, noble lady, are indeed bitter and painful to my heart; and I am tempted to think, that though he might well merit his prize of the Damascus sword, yet he was not deserving of the tender rose-tree, nor the rose-like maiden.” With these words he bowed respectfully, and left the veranda. On the following morning the ships of Nurreddin, with their brazen beaks and silken streamers, were gleaming in the sun, while the light breezes gently played amid their snow-white sails. Through a shadowy walk of the garden, Bertha now came with her extraordinary protector from the palace towards the sea-shore. As they drew near the gate, there was heard from the thickets the gentle sound of a harp; and ere long, words too blended with its notes, and Bertha could not but listen; for the words were French, and reminded her of past and happy days. The voice and music were tremulous and mournful; and the minstrel deplored that he could no longer praise the beauties of the ocean-waves dancing in the sunshine, the blooming woods and fragrant breezes of the morning; for now the fairest of flowers, the damsel that had adorned these woods, was borne far away; and he could only weep, or faintly sing to his harp, the lamentations of a lonely and despairing lover. Then it seemed, after this beginning, as if his voice died away in his grief and sadness, and only low broken notes of his harp were still heard from amid the shadowy coverts. Bertha had involuntarily stood still to listen; and the emir, anxious to fulfil every wish of hers, stopped also, and made a signal that the slaves who followed them should not move. When the song had thus died away, and Bertha looked anxiously round for the minstrel, Nurreddin stepped hastily on through the portal, and, with his eagle-eyes, soon found out the disconsolate youth with his harp, made a sign that he should come nearer; and thereafter brought him before the lady, who, to her great joy, recognised at once the minstrel, Aleard.