“Zelma!” said the maiden modestly, dropping her eyes before those of the knight, and speaking with a certain tremulousness of tone that was more eloquent than words.
“Zelma!” said de Guiscan astonished, “and do I indeed behold the far-famed daughter of the Emir, Abel-dek, she for whom the Saracenic chivalry have broken so many lances? Thou art indeed beautiful, far more beautiful than I had dreamed. The blessed saints may be praised, that thou wishest to be a Christian.”
“Such is my wish,” said the maiden meekly, as if desiring to change the conversation from her late act, “and I pray that, as soon as may be, we may reach some Christian outpost, where you will place me in charge of one of those holy women, of whom I have heard my nurse so often speak; and after that, the only favor I ask of you, sir knight, is, that, should you ever meet my father, Abel-dek, in battle, you will avoid him, for his daughter’s sake.”
“It is granted, sweet Zelma,” said de Guiscan enthusiastically. But the attendant now returning, their conversation was closed for the present.
Why was it that de Guiscan, instead of retiring to rest, when, having formed a rude couch for Zelma, he persuaded her to take a short repose, kept guard for hours, busy with his own thoughts, but without uttering a word? Was it solely gratitude to the fair Saracen which forbid him to trust her safety even for a moment to her attendant, or had another and deeper feeling, arising partly from gratitude, and partly from a tenderer source, taken possession of his soul? Certain it is, that though the young knight had gazed on the bright eyes of his own Gascony, and seen even the fair-haired maidens of England, yet never had he experienced toward any of them, such feelings as that which he now experienced toward Zelma. Hour after hour passed away, and still he stood watching over her slumbers.
It was late in the afternoon when the little party again set forth on their flight. De Guiscan, when the road permitted it, was ever at the bridle reins of Zelma, and though his keen eye often swept anxiously around the landscape, their conversation soon grew deeply interesting, if we may judge by the stolen glances and heightened color of Zelma, and the eager attention with which the young knight listened to the few words which dropped from her lips. How had their demeanor changed since the night before! Then the princess was all energy, now she was the startled girl again. Then de Guiscan followed powerless as she led, now he it was upon whom the little party leaned for guidance.
“Pursuit, the saints be praised, must long since have ceased,” said de Guiscan, “for yonder is the last hill hiding us from the Christian camp. When we gain that we shall be able to see, though still distant, the tents of my race.”
The eyes of the maiden sparkled, and giving the reins to their steeds, they soon gained the ascent. The scene that burst upon them was so grand and imposing that, involuntarily, for a moment, they drew in and paused.
Before them stretched out an extensive plain, bounded on three sides by chains of hills, while on the fourth, and western border, glistened far away the waters of the Mediterranean. Rich fields of waving green; sparkling rivers, now lost and now emerging to sight; rolling uplands, crowned with cedar forests; and, dimly seen in the distance, a long line of glittering light, reflected from the armor of the Crusaders, and telling where lay the Christian camp, opened out before the eyes of the fugitives.
“The camp—the camp,” said de Guiscan joyously, pointing to the far-off line of tents.