"Of this," said Don Amador, "I will have a word to speak with thee anon. At present, I am desirous, that thou shouldst relate to me the fate of this day's battle, which I am the more anxious to know, since thou hast spoken the name of Calavar."
"I am loath to obey thee," said the Zegri, struggling with the fierce satisfaction that beset him at the thought, "for it may again excite thee to anger."
"Nevertheless, I will listen to thy story, with such composure as I can, as to a thing, it may be needful for me to know; after which, I have myself a matter of which it is quite essential I should acquaint thee."
Thus commanded, the Moor obeyed; and his eyes sparkled, as he conned over in his mind the events of a day so dreadful to the Spaniards.
CHAPTER LI.
"Yesterday, when thou wert sleeping," said the Zegri, "or lay as one that slept——"
"That day, then," muttered Amador, "is a blank in my existence! and very grievous it is, to think that so great a space of so short a period as life, should be lost in a stony lethargy.—It seems to me, that that blow thou gavest me, was somewhat rounder than was needful.—Nevertheless, I am not angry, but grateful."
"Yesterday was a day of comparative peace," continued the Zegri. "The Spaniards shut themselves in their citadel, preparing for the greater exploit of to-day. It was evident to the dullest of the nobles, that Don Hernan had cast an evil eye on the temple."
"Did he so?" cried the cavalier. "It was the thought of a good Christian: and, methinks, my countrymen had not been judged with so many of these present torments, if they had sooner torn down that strong-hold of the devil, which is detestable in the eye of heaven."