beautiful Boabdil seemed to have grown suddenly old; his eyes were
sunken, his countenance sown with wrinkles, and his voice sounded broken
and hollow on the ears of his kinsman.

"Come hither, Muza," said he; "seat thyself beside me, and listen as thou
best canst to the tidings we are about to hear."

As Muza placed himself on a cushion, a little below the king, Boabdil
motioned to one amongst the crowd. "Hamet," said he, "thou hast examined
the state of the Christian camp; what news dost thou bring?"

"Light of the Faithful," answered the Moor, "it is a camp no longer--it
has already become a city. Nine towns of Spain were charged with the
task; stone has taken the place of canvas; towers and streets arise like
the buildings of a genius; and the misbelieving king hath sworn that this
new city shall not be left until Granada sees his standard on its walls."

"Go on," said Boabdil, calmly.

"Traders and men of merchandise flock thither daily; the spot is one
bazaar; all that should supply our famishing country pours its plenty
into their mart."

Boabdil motioned to the Moor to withdraw, and an alfaqui advanced in his
stead.

"Successor of the Prophet, and darling of the world!" said the reverend
man, "the alfaquis and seers of Granada implore thee on their knees to
listen to their voice. They have consulted the Books of Fate; thy have
implored a sign from the Prophet; and they find that the glory has left