A clang of drums, trumpets, and cymbals announced the arrival of the Hebrew army. The people shouted, the troops without responded with a long cheer of triumph. Amid the blaze of torches, a youth waving his scimitar, upon a coal-black steed, bounded into the city, at the head of his guards, the people fell upon their knees, and shouted ‘Long live Alroy!’
A venerable man, leading a beauteous maiden with downcast eyes, advanced. They headed a deputation of the chief inhabitants of the city. They came to solicit mercy and protection. At the sight of them, the youthful warrior leaped from his horse, flung away his scimitar, and clasping the maiden in his arms, exclaimed, ‘Miriam, my sister, this, this indeed is triumph!’
‘Drink,’ said Kisloch the Kourd to Calidas the Indian; ‘you forget, comrade, we are no longer Moslemin.’
‘Wine, methinks, has a peculiarly pleasant flavour in a golden cup,’ said the Guebre. ‘I got this little trifle to-day in the Bazaar,’ he added, holding up a magnificent vase studded with gems.
‘I thought plunder was forbidden,’ grinned the Negro.
‘So it is,’ replied the Guebre; ‘but we may purchase what we please, upon credit.’
‘Well, for my part, I am a moderate man,’ exclaimed Calidas the Indian, ‘and would not injure even these accursed dogs of Turks. I have not cut my host’s throat, but only turned him into my porter, and content myself with his harem, his baths, his fine horses, and other little trifles.’
‘What quarters we are in! There is nothing like a true Messiah!’ exclaimed Kisloch, devoutly.
‘Nothing,’ said Calidas; ‘though to speak truth, I did not much believe in the efficacy of Solomon’s sceptre, till his Majesty clove the head of the valiant Seljuk with it.’
‘But now there’s no doubt of it,’ said the Guebre.