Mor. (eagerly.) Yes! the way was long,
The desert’s wind breath’d o’er me. Could I rest?
Mel. Yes! thou shalt rest within thy father’s tent.
Follow me, gentle child! Thou look’st so changed.
Mor. (hurriedly.) The weary way,—the desert’s burning wind——
[Laying her hand on him as she goes out.
Think thou no evil of those Christians, father!—
They were still kind.
Scene II.—Before a Fortress amongst Rocks, with a Desert beyond.—Military Music.
Rainier de Chatillon—Knights and Soldiers.