We have now brought our story up to
the time when Alfonzo had his first interview
with the beautiful Genilla. We
have seen how rapidly love intoxicated
his heart as he discoursed with the beautiful
Genilla. We have seen how rapidly
love intoxicated his heart as he discoursed
with her upon the moss-seat beneath
the wild olive tree on the mountain.
We shall now briefly allude to the events
that followed, and then proceed with the
regular narrative which we broke off after
the parting of the lovers at the tower and
as Alfonzo was returning to his home
where he had left his father watching
over the wounded young Emir.

Alfonzo, then, having conducted the
Moorish maiden to his homble abode,
where he quickly exchanged his Moorish
dress for one more suited to his faith and
race, presented the lovely Moor to his
sister, relating her history. The fair
Xariffa, who had less strong prejudice
than her brother, received the rescued
maiden with sisterly affection; and when,
after an hour's rest with her, she left
under Alfonzo's charge to return to her
father's house, she presented her with a
little silver cross, and sweetly told her
that when she was in sorrow or trouble if
she would pray to him who died upon
a cross, she would find protection and
peace. Genilla accepted the cross rather
as a token of affection than a badge of
faith, and promised she would try its efficacy.
Alfonzo then took her once
more under his charge and safely conducted
her to the tower, where she found
that Ben Osmin had just returned from
Cordova, whither he had been to get
troops to pursue the robbers, who had
carried off his daughter; but could obtain
none, each of the ruling Emirs fearing
to let any of his own followers go,
as a revolution was daily, if not hourly,
expected to break out. He, therefore,
returned in despair just before the arrival
in safety of his lost daughter. He
embraced her with tears, and was nearly
beside himself with joy, crying and
laughing by turns.

Alfonzo had not delayed a moment
after leaving her, as he was anxious to
return and head an expedition against
the tower, and besides he did not wish to
hear the Moor's thanks for the service
done his daughter.

From that time he became a frequent
visitor at the cottage of the Moor, till old
Ben Osmin thought it best to ask the
young lover if he intended to become a
Moslem; if so, he might still visit Genilla;
but if not, he must cease coming to
the Emir's tower.

`I owe you my child's happiness and
safety,' he said to him, `but, by the
beard of the Prophet! I cannot have her
saved from El Zegris to be lost again to
a Christian. The Zegris is at least half
Moor, while thou hast not a drop of the
true blood in thy veins. I thank thee,
Christian, for the rescue of my child; but
I cannot consent that you should have
her as the price of it. So let there be
peace between us and the shadow of thy
body cast no more across my threshold!'

Alfonzo bowed in quiet submission to
the will of the Moor. He could not become
a Moslem, even for Genilla's love.
All the while the maiden stood by in
silence, her hands folded upon her breast,

[figure description] Page 054.[end figure description]

as if she perfectly submitted to her father's
decree. She well knew that the
young mountaineer would not change his
religion; therefore she did not ask him.
But she also knew that he would not
cease to love her.

Without a word he left the presence
of the old Moor; but he had caught the
dark glance of the maiden as he passed
out and translated into, `Wait by the
tower and I will speak with thee, Alfonso.
'

So he waited at the southern angle of
the tower, and in three minutes Genilla
was by his side. Her eyes were sparkling
with moisture and her cheek was
pale; that emotion which she suppressed
and concealed in the presence of her
father now showed itself before the
lover.

`Alfonzo, we cannot part thus!'

`No, Genilla! Yet I feel that your
father has instructed me in my duty. I
ought not to see you again. Day by day
I have been self-condemned for loving
thee! But in vain have I tried to break
the sweet spell with which thou hast
bound my heart to thee! I would say
in the morning, I will see Genilla no
more, and yet evening would find me by
thy side! I have felt miserable because
I loved thee, and ye more wretched
when I thought that I must one day give
thee up, or perish!'

`It need not be, Alfonzo!'

`What wilt thou become a Christian?'
cried Afonzo, with joy.

`No, no, I said not so. I cannot become
a Christian, but for me thou wilt
become a follower of the Prophet of
God!'

`I, a Mahommadoun!' he cried,
shrinking from her in holy horror. `I a
Moslem believer? Never, never, Genilla,!
I love thee with all my being,
but I detest thy faith!'

`We will not darken this hour of parting
by more words like these, Alfonzo.
I love thee, because gratitude lies at the
bottom of my love; and I cannot cease
to love thee whatever thou art. We will
speak of this subject no more. But we
are not to part now forever!'

`I hope I shall see you again, yet I sin
in saying so!'

`Sin! Sin for thee to love me! Oh,
what a severe faith is thine, Alfonzo!'
she said, softly and reproachfully. `It
is no sin for me to love thee as I do!'

`If the Holy Church knew that I loved
an Infidel maiden, as I love thee Genilla,
it would cast me forth from its bosom.'

`Would to Allah it would; then the
fold of Islam would open its gate to receive
thee!'

`I would rather perish with the curse
of the Church upon my head than embrace
thy false faith!'

`We were to speak no more on this
theme,' she said, smiling. `I forgive
thy words for thy sake. I have not
come to meet thee, Alfonzo, to make
thee a Mussleman, but to tell thee that I
and my father are of two minds. He
would have thee stay away, I would have
thee come! Wilt thou come secretly to
see me! For thou art the star of my
life, now! To love thee and to be conscious
that I am beloved by thee is all of
existence that I feel! Thy love is the
breath of my being. Wilt thou come!'

`Yes, Genilla! I would refuse to see
thee again, for it is better to lose thee in
this world than to lose my soul in the
next; but I cannot say so. I must come.'

And he did come often and secretly,
till their hearts grew together as one
heart, and save in faith they were one.
Yet Alfonzo loved with a heavy conscience.
He kept the secret of his love
from the hermit, and this made him unhappy;
for to an ingenuous mind concealment
is hateful. He felt he was
doing wrong in loving the Moorish maiden;
but he hoped to convert her to
Christianity, and with this weak defence
of his conduct he let the current of
his peep passions drive him onward. On
her part she felf none of those compunctious
visitings of conscience for
loving Alfonzo. He had won her heart
by the service he had done her. Christian,
or Moor, or Pagan, even, she could
not cease to love him. And she too, it
was the sweet hope of her young heart,
she too hoped by the talisman of love to
allure him to the faith of Islam, which to
her was the Faith of Faiths.

So the current of their loves ran
smoothly on, disturbed only by brief discussions
upon their respective faiths.
Their meetings were secret, and not less
delightful that they were so. It rendered
Genilla dearer to Alfonzo in that her

[figure description] Page 055.[end figure description]

sweet society was not to be purchased
without danger.

We have now got back to our lover as
he is proceeding homeward from the
Emir's tower after his last visit, that visit
in which he had found the hermit closeted
with Ben Osmin, and on which he
learned Genilla's determination to accompany
her father the next morning into
Cordova.

He walked slowly along through the
dark cork-tree forest, his way at intervals
being lighted up by a patch of moonlight
laying like shining water-pools upon the
green sward. He was busily occupied
as he paced along, in thinking about his
love for Genilla, and her contemplated
visit to Cordova. He did not like to have
her go, so beautiful and unskilful in the
ways of the world as he knew her to be;
and he feared that—in a word he began
to feel jealous. He was very much
afraid—if he had dared to confess his
feelings to himself—that some one of the
handsome and dashing Saracen cavaliers
with whom Cordova swarmed, might see
her and captivate her susceptible heart,
and steal her affections away from himself.
This idea, once fairly got into the
head of the young mountain lover, troubled
him vastly. Half a dozen times he
was on the eve of turning back and insisting
with all a lover's eloquence that
she should not go; but he was every time
deterred from this lest she should suspect
his motives; and to be thought to be jealous
is exceedingly annoying to a lover
when he is jealous.

`I will let her go,' he at length said;
`if some gay Saracen knight falls in love
with her and she returns his passion, as
she may—for I am but a poor mountaineer
and a Christian—it will be best for
me! In loving her as I do, I feel I am
risking my soul's salvation. But I should
be miserable not to love her! So beautiful,
so gentle—she was made for me to
love her! Oh, Genilla! if thou wert
only a Christian!'

He sighed and walked on rapidly, as
if he would run from his thoughts. Suddenly
he heard the tramp of horses, and
voices ahead of him. He drew aside,
and upon seeing the party come near, he
knew that it was a Moorish cavalcade of
hunters, for there were hounds in leach,
and two falconers with birds riding in
front.

`It will be a sad tale to bear back to
Cordova,' said one of the horsemen, a
richly dressed Saracen, who seemed to
be the chief of the party, addressing a
young man in a green turban who rode
by his side.

`It will indeed,' answered the other;
`but I trust that he has found his way
down the mountain by some other path.
It is more than likely we shall find him
at the palace when we arrive.'

`Allah grant it! But on my soul be
it! I would rather it had been myself lost
or perished than he; and at this time,
too, when our faction hoped so much
from him. But I hope the best! God is
great—and what is to be will be!'

`It is barely possible he may have
found shelter in the hut of some mountaineer,
' said another of those who rode
slowly along in front.

`That would be as fatal to his life as if
he had fallen from a precipice,' responded
the first speaker. `It was folly in him
going out to hunt on the Sierras, and being
there, rash for him to separate himself
from us. But I have done my best.
We will return to Cordova, and if he be
not there before us—which Allah bring
to pass!—I will head a fresh party in the
morning and scour the mountain.'

The horsemen by this time had passed
some distance the spot where Alfonzo
stood unseen. Their conversation at once
brought to his recollection his wounded
guest, whom he had left two hours before
under the uncertain protection of his father,
Gaspar, the Wolf-slayer; and whom
he had forgotten in his thoughts about
Genilla. He now knew that his guest
was the leader of the party which had
passed, and that, having given up the
search, they had been collected together
by their lieutenant, and were returning
to Cordova full of sorrow at their loss.

His first impulse was to follow them,
and relieve their anxiety by informing
them where the young Emir—as he
doubtless was—was lying. But the reflection
how dangerous it might prove to
introduce a lawless Moorish party into
the quiet hamlet, checked this purpose in
his mind as soon as it was formed.