"Is not the king's will my law?" answered Almamen; "be his will obeyed.
To-morrow night I await thee."

"Where?"

Almamen paused a moment, and then whispered a sentence in the king's ear:
Boabdil started, and turned pale.

"A fearful spot!"

"So is the Alhambra itself, great Boabdil; while Ferdinand is without the
walls and Muza within the city."

"Muza! Darest thou mistrust my bravest warrior?"

"What wise king will trust the idol of the king's army? Did Boabdil fall
to-morrow by a chance javelin, in the field, whom would the nobles and
the warriors place upon his throne? Doth it require an enchanter's lore
to whisper to thy heart the answer in the name of 'Muza'?"

"Oh, wretched state! oh, miserable king!" exclaimed Boabdil, in a tone of
great anguish. "I never had a father. I have now no people; a little
while, and I shall have no country. Am I never to have a friend?"

"A friend! what king ever had?" returned Almamen, drily.

"Away, man--away!" cried Boabdil, as the impatient spirit of his rank and
race shot dangerous fire from his eyes; "your cold and bloodless wisdom
freezes up all the veins of my manhood! Glory, confidence, human
sympathy, and feeling--your counsels annihilate them all. Leave me!