‘But, my uncle, there is hope.’
‘Speak, then, of hope,’ replied Besso, with sudden vehemence, and starting from his pillow.
‘Truly I have seen a child of the mountains, who persists in the tale that our Eva has escaped.’
‘An enemy’s device! Are the mountains ours? Where are the troops?’
‘Were the mountains ours, I should not be here, my uncle. Look from the ramparts, and you will soon see the plain covered with the troops, at least with all of them who have escaped the matchlocks and the lances of the Ansarey.’
‘Are they such sons of fire?’
‘When the Queen of the Ansarey refused to deliver up the prisoners, and declared that Eva was not in her power, the Pasha resolved to penetrate the passes, in two detachments, on the following morning. The enemy was drawn up in array to meet us, but fled after a feeble struggle. Our artillery seemed to carry all before it. But,’ continued Hillel, shrugging his shoulders, ‘war is not by any means a commercial transaction. It seemed that, when we were on the point of victory, we were in fact entirely defeated. The enemy had truly made a feigned defence, and had only allured us into the passes, where they fired on us from the heights, and rolled down upon our confused masses huge fragments of rock. Our strength, our numbers, and our cannon, only embarrassed us; there arose a confusion; the troops turned and retreated. And, when everything was in the greatest perplexity, and we were regaining the plain, our rear was pursued by crowds of cavalry, Kurds, and other Giaours, who destroyed our men with their long lances, uttering horrible shouts. For my own part, I thought all was over, but a good horse is not a bad thing, and I am here, my uncle, having ridden for twenty hours, nearly, without a pause.’
‘And when did you see this child of the mountains who spoke of the lost one?’ asked Besso, in a low and broken voice.
‘On the eve of the engagement,’ said Hillel. ‘He had been sent to me with a letter, but, alas! had been plundered on his way by our troops, and the letter had been destroyed or lost. Nevertheless, he induced them to permit him to reach my tent, and brought these words, that the ever adorable had truly quitted the mountains, and that the lost letter had been written to that effect by the chieftain of the Ansarey.’
‘Is there yet hope! What sound is that?’