And like some faultless statue, the ornament of the whole edifice,
there stood Zelinda upon a high and giddy projection, while the
tongues of flame wreathed around her from below, calling to her
companions in the faith to help her in saving the wisdom of centuries
which was preserved in this building. The projection on which she
stood began to totter from the fervent heat raging beneath it, and a
few stones gave way; Fadrique called with a voice full of anguish to
the endangered lady, and scarcely had she withdrawn her foot from the
spot, when the stone on which she had been standing broke away and
came rattling down on the pavement. Zelinda disappeared within the
burning palace, and Fadrique rushed up its marble staircase,
Heimbert, his faithful companion, following him.

Their hasty steps carried them through lofty resounding halls; the
architecture over their heads was a maze of high arches, and one
chamber led into another almost like a labyrinth. The walls
displayed on all sides magnificent shelves, in which were to be seen
stored rolls of parchment, papyrus, and palm-leaf, partly inscribed
with the characters of long-vanished centuries, and which were now to
perish themselves. For the flames were already crackling among them
and stretching their serpent-like and fiery heads from one case of
treasures to another; while some Spanish soldiers, barbarous in their
fury, and hoping for plunder, and finding nothing but inscribed rolls
within the gorgeous building, passed from disappointment to rage, and
aided the flames; the more so as they regarded the inscriptions as
the work of evil magicians. Fadrique flew as in a dream through the
strange half-consumed halls, ever calling Zelinda! thinking and
regarding nothing but her enchanting beauty. Long did Heimbert
remain at his side, until at length they both reached a cedar
staircase leading to an upper story; here Fadrique paused to listen,