The child looked around with delighted eyes. The breeze blew his curling locks from about his face, and his cheek glowed at the boundless prospect; for the tower was reared upon that lofty promontory on which Hercules founded one of his pillars. The surges of the sea were heard far below, beating upon the rocks, the sea-gull screamed and wheeled about the foundations of the tower, and the sails of lofty caraccas were as mere specks on the bosom of the deep.
"Dost thou know yonder land beyond the blue water?" said Yuza.
"It is Spain," replied the boy; "it is the land of my father and my mother."
"Then stretch forth thy hands and bless it, my child," said the astrologer.
The boy let go his hold of the wall; and, as he stretched forth his hands, the aged son of Ishmael, exerting all the strength of his withered limbs, suddenly pushed him over the battlements. He fell headlong from the top of that tall tower, and not a bone in his tender frame but was crushed upon the rocks beneath.
Alahor came to the foot of the winding stairs.
"Is the boy safe?" cried he.
"He is safe," replied Yuza; "come and behold the truth with thine own eyes."
The emir ascended the tower and looked over the battlements, and beheld the body of the child, a shapeless mass, on the rocks far below, and the sea-gulls hovering about it; and he gave orders that it should be thrown into the sea, which was done.