up the height with such rapidity that Alba's violent descent seemed
but a lazy snail's pace. Before any one was aware, he was already on
the height, and wresting spear and shield from the maiden, he had
seized her in his arms and was attempting to bear her away, while
Zelinda in anxious despair clung to the palisade with both her hands.
Her cry for help was unavailing, partly because the Turks imagined
that the magic power of the maiden was annihilated by the almost
equally wondrous deed of the youth, and partly also because the
faithful Heimbert, quickly perceiving his comrade's daring feat, had
led both troops to a renewed attack, and now stood by his side on the
height, fighting hand to hand with the defenders. This time the fury
of the Mussulmans, weakened as they were by superstition and
surprise, could avail nothing against the heroic advance of the
Christian soldiers. The Spaniards and Germans speedily broke through
the enemy, assisted by the watchful squadrons of their army. The
Mohammedans fled with frightful howling, the battle with its stream
of victory rolled ever on, and the banner of the holy German empire
and that of the royal house of Castile waved victorious over the
glorious battle-field before the walls of Tunis.




CHAPTER VII.



In the confusion of the conquering and the conquered, Zelinda had
wrested herself from Fadrique's arms and had fled from him with such
swiftness that, however much love and desire might have given wings