“Epirus is prepared,” replied Iskander.
The Turks withdrew. Iskander bore the senseless form of Iduna to her father. Hunniades embraced his long-lost child. They sprinkled her face with water from the fountain. She revived.
“Where is Nicæus?” inquired Iskander; “and how came you again, dear lady, in the power of Mahomed?”
“Alas! noble sir, my twice deliverer,” answered Iduna, “I have, indeed, again been doomed to captivity, but my persecutor, I blush to say, was this time a Christian prince.”
“Holy Virgin!” exclaimed Iskander. “Who can this villain be?”
“The villain, Lord Iskander, is your friend; and your pupil, dear father.”
“Nicæus of Athens!” exclaimed Hunniades.
Iskander was silent and melancholy.
Thereupon the Lady Iduna recounted to her father and Iskander, sitting between them on the margin of the fount, all that had occurred to her, since herself and Nicæus parted with Iskander; nor did she omit to relate to Hunniades all the devotion of Iskander, respecting which, like a truly brave man, he had himself been silent. The great Hunniades scarcely knew which rather to do, to lavish his affection on his beloved child, or his gratitude upon Iskander. Thus they went on conversing for some time, Iskander placing his own cloak around Iduna, and almost unconsciously winding his arm around her unresisting form.
Just as they were preparing to return to the Christian camp, a great noise was heard in the grove, and presently, in the direction whence Iduna had arrived, there came a band of men bearing torches and examining the grove in all directions in great agitation. Iskander and Hunniades stood upon their guard, but soon perceived they were Greeks. Their leader, seeing a group near the fountain, advanced to make inquiries respecting the object of his search, but when he indeed recognised the persons who formed the group, the torch fell from his grasp, and he turned away his head and hid his face in his hands.