IN ONE of a series of chambers excavated in the mountains, yet connected with the more artificial portion of the palace, chambers and galleries which in the course of ages had served for many purposes, sometimes of security, sometimes of punishment; treasuries not unfrequently, and occasionally prisons; in one of these vast cells, feebly illumined from apertures above, lying on a rude couch with her countenance hidden, motionless and miserable, was the beautiful daughter of Besso, one who had been bred in all the delights of the most refined luxury, and in the enjoyment of a freedom not common in any land, and most rare among the Easterns.

The events of her life had been so strange and rapid during the last few days that, even amid her woe, she revolved in her mind their startling import. It was little more than ten days since, under the guardianship of her father, she had commenced her journey from Damascus to Aleppo. When they had proceeded about half way, they were met at the city of Horns by a detachment of Turkish soldiers, sent by the Pasha of Aleppo, at the request of Hillel Besso, to escort them, the country being much troubled in consequence of the feud with the Ansarey. Notwithstanding these precautions, and although, from the advices they received, they took a circuitous and unexpected course, they were attacked by the mountaineers within half a day’s journey of Aleppo; and with so much strength and spirit, that their guards, after some resistance, fled and dispersed, while Eva and her attendants, after seeing her father cut down in her defence, was carried a prisoner to Gindarics.

Overwhelmed by the fate of her father, she was at first insensible to her own, and was indeed so distracted that she delivered herself up to despair. She was beginning in some degree to collect her senses, and to survey her position with some comparative calmness, when she learnt from the visit of Cypros that Fakredeen and Tancred were, by a strange coincidence, under the same roof as herself. Then she recalled the kind sympathy and offers of consolation that had been evinced and proffered to her by the mistress of the castle, to whose expressions at the time she had paid but an imperfect attention. Under these circumstances she earnestly requested permission to avail herself of a privilege, which had been previously offered and refused, to become the companion, rather than the captive, of the Queen of the Ansarey; so that she might find some opportunity of communicating with her two friends, of inquiring about her father, and of consulting with them as to the best steps to be adopted in her present exigency.

The interview, from which so much was anticipated, had turned out as strange and as distressful as any of the recent incidents to which it was to have brought balm and solace. Recognised instantly by Tancred and the young Emir, and greeted with a tender respect, almost equal to the surprise and sorrow which they felt at beholding her, Astarte, hitherto so unexpectedly gracious to her captive, appeared suddenly agitated, excited, haughty, even hostile. The Queen had immediately summoned Fakredeen to her side, and there passed between them some hurried and perturbed explanations; subsequently she addressed some inquiries to Tancred, to which he replied without reserve. Soon afterwards, Astarte, remaining intent and moody, the court was suddenly broken up; Keferinis signifying to the young men that they should retire, while Astarte, without bestowing on them her usual farewell, rose, and, followed by her maidens, quitted the chamber. As for Eva, instead of returning to one of the royal apartments which had been previously allotted to her, she was conducted to what was in fact a prison.

There she had passed the night and a portion of the ensuing day, visited only by Cypros, who, when Eva would have inquired the cause of all this mysterious cruelty and startling contrast to the dispositions which had preceded it, only shook her head and pressed her finger to her lip, to signify the impossibility of her conversing with her captive.

It was one of those situations where the most gifted are deserted by their intelligence; where there is as little to guide as to console; where the mystery is as vast as the misfortune; and the tortured apprehension finds it impossible to grapple with irresistible circumstances.

In this state, the daughter of Besso, plunged in a dark reverie, in which the only object visible to her mind’s eye was the last glance of her dying father, was roused from her approaching stupor by a sound, distinct, yet muffled, as if some one wished to attract her attention, without startling her by too sudden an interruption. She looked up; again she heard the sound, and then, in a whispered tone, her name ——

‘Eva!’

‘I am here.’

‘Hush!’ said a figure, stealing into the caverned chamber, and then throwing off his Syrian cloak, revealing to her one whom she recognised.

‘Fakredeen,’ she said, starting from her couch, ‘what is all this?’

The countenance of Fakredeen was distressed and agitated; there was an expression of alarm, almost of terror, stamped upon his features.

‘You must follow me,’ he said; ‘there is not a moment to lose; you must fly!’

‘Why and whither?’ said Eva. ‘This capture is one of plunder not of malice, or was so a few hours back. It is not sorrow for myself that overwhelmed me. But yesterday, the sovereign of these mountains treated me with a generous sympathy, and, if it brought me no solace, it was only because events have borne, I fear, irremediable woe. And now I suddenly find myself among my friends; friends, who, of all others, I should most have wished to encounter at this moment, and all is changed. I am a prisoner, under every circumstance of harshness, even of cruelty, and you speak to me as if my life, my immediate existence, was in peril.’

‘It is.’

‘But why?’

Fakredeen wrung his hands, and murmured, ‘Let us go.’

‘I scarcely care to live,’ said Eva; ‘and I will not move until you give me some clue to all this mystery.’

‘Well, then, she is jealous of you; the Queen, Astarte; she is jealous of you with the English prince, that man who has brought us all so many vexations.’ ‘Is it he that has brought us so many vexations?’ replied Eva. ‘The Queen jealous of me, and with the English prince! ’Tis very strange. We scarcely exchanged a dozen sentences together, when all was disturbed and broken up. Jealous of me! Why, then, was she anxious that I should descend to her divan? This is not the truth, Fakredeen.’

‘Not all; but it is the truth; it is, indeed. The Queen is jealous of you: she is in love with Tancred; a curse be on him and her both! and somebody has told her that Tancred is in love with you.’ ‘Somebody! When did they tell her?’ ‘Long ago; long ago. She knew, that is, she had been told, that Tancred was affianced to the daughter of Besso of Damascus; and so this sudden meeting brought about a crisis. I did what I could to prevent it; vowed that you were only the cousin of the Besso that she meant; did everything, in short, I could to serve and save you; but it was of no use. She was wild, is wild, and your life is in peril.’

Eva mused a moment. Then, looking up, she said, ‘Fakredeen, it is you who told the Queen this story. You are the somebody who has invented this fatal falsehood. What was your object I care not to inquire, knowing full well, that, if you had an object, you never would spare friend or foe. Leave me. I have little wish to live; but I believe in the power of truth. I will confront the Queen and tell her all. She will credit what I say; if she do not, I can meet my fate; but I will not, now or ever, entrust it to you.’

Thereupon Fakredeen burst into a flood of passionate tears, and, throwing himself on the ground, kissed Eva’s feet, and clung to her garments which he embraced, sobbing, and moaning, and bestowing on her endless phrases of affection, mixed with imprecations on his own head and conduct.
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