The Abencerrage kissed the hand of the Alcayde, in grateful
acknowledgment. "Give me," said he, "my own armor, and my steed, and
I require no guard. It is not likely that I shall again meet with so
valorous a foe."

The shades of night had fallen, when the tramp of the dapple-gray steed
sounded over the drawbridge, and immediately afterward the light clatter
of hoofs along the road, bespoke the fleetness with which the youthful
lover hastened to his bride. It was deep night when the Moor arrived at
the castle of Coyn. He silently and cautiously walked his panting steed
under its dark walls, and having nearly passed round them, came to the
portal denoted by Xarisa. He paused and looked around to see that he was
not observed, and then knocked three times with the butt of his lance.
In a little while the portal was timidly unclosed by the duenna of
Xarisa. "Alas! senor," said she, "what has detained you thus long? Every
night have I watched for you; and my lady is sick at heart with doubt
and anxiety."

The Abencerrage hung his lance, and shield, and scimitar against the
wall, and then followed the duenna, with silent steps, up a winding
stair-case, to the apartment of Xarisa. Vain would be the attempt to
describe the raptures of that meeting. Time flew too swiftly, and the
Abencerrage had nearly forgotten, until too late, his promise to return
a prisoner to the Alcayde of Allora. The recollection of it came to him
with a pang, and suddenly awoke him from his dream of bliss. Xarisa
saw his altered looks, and heard with alarm his stifled sighs; but her
countenance brightened, when she heard the cause. "Let not thy spirit be
cast down," said she, throwing her white arms around him. "I have the
keys of my father's treasures; send ransom more than enough to satisfy
the Christian, and remain with me."