already a rejected suitor, and under circumstances which scarcely had
left hope. Nothing but the sole credit of her chivalric rescue could
perhaps have obtained for him the interest in the heart of Iduna which
he coveted. For while this exploit proffered an irresistible claim to
her deepest gratitude, it indicated also, on the part of her deliverer,
the presence and possession of all those great qualities, the absence
of which in the character and conduct of her suitor, Iduna had not, at
a former period, endeavoured to conceal to be the principal came of his
rejection. And now, by the unhappy course of circumstances, the very
deed on which he counted, with sanguine hope, as the sure means of his
success, seemed as it were to have placed him in a more inferior
situation than before. The constant society of his mistress had fanned
to all its former force and ardour, the flame which, apart from her,
and hopeless, he had endeavoured to repress; while, on the other hand,
he could not conceal from himself, that Iduna must feel that he had
played in these rest proceeding but a secondary part; that all the
genius and all the generosity of the exploit rested with Iskander, who,
after having obtained her freedom by so much energy, peril, sagacity
and skill, had secured it by a devoted courage which might shame all
the knights of Christendom; perhaps, too, had secured it by his own
life.

What if Iskander were no more? It was a great contingency. The
eternal servitude of Greece, and the shameful triumph of the Crescent,
were involved, perhaps, in that single event. And could the possession
of Iduna compensate for such disgrace and infamy? Let us not record
the wild response of passion.

It was midnight ere the restless Nicaeus, more exhausted by his
agitating reverie than by his previous exertions, returned into the