CHAP. V.

It was night when the triumphant band entered Ispahan: they found the streets and the gardens illuminated; every place was crowded with people rending the air with acclamations, in which the names of the new Sophi and his victorious friend were joined.

Sebastian’s heart throbbed with virtuous exultation: it was to him this populous city was indebted for her deliverance and for her monarch!—His steps were now impeded by frequent parties of the citizens forcibly stopping him to crown his head with garlands, and to bless him for their freedom: it was with difficulty he could reach the house of Sir Anthony Shirley, where he assisted Kara Aziek to quit her litter, and led her into the apartments of the ambassador.

Shirley welcomed back his guest with open arms, Sebastian returned his embrace, and thanking him for the justice he had rendered to his principles, presented the fair proof of his truth.

When the lovely Moor threw back her veil to answer the courteous salutation of the Englishman, a modest glow animated her softly-speaking eyes, but those eyes floated in tears, for the sight of Sir Anthony Shirley brought back the memory of his countrywoman whom death had so lately torn away. She spoke, she moved, and the grave statesman delighted with the melody of her voice, and the grace and symmetry of her shape, forgot that the hue of the olive was spread over those exquisite limbs.

Sweet to the lover is the tributary admiration paid to the object of his adoration! Sebastian read Shirley’s approval in his looks, and eager to display the still lovelier part of his Aziek, won her into discourse.

Their theme was the story of Aziek’s friend; of her last illness, her resignation, her saint-like piety, her death!—regret and affection made Kara Aziek eloquent, and both her auditors hung on her accents with intent pleasure. As she described the important scenes that had passed between her and this superior woman, each listened attentively: Kara Aziek was describing the progress of her own conversion. Sebastian was only attentive to discover whether she really had deserted the standard of the false prophet; Shirley anxiously hoped to hear that she had become a convert to the new doctrine of Luther.

Both were satisfied;—Aziek was a Christian and a Lutheran: the death-bed of Amelia had sealed her arguments.

“What a noble soul! what a rare judgment!” exclaimed Sir Anthony, inwardly: “She has acknowledged Jesus!” said Sebastian to himself, “that is the first step—and I should be satisfied with it. The false creed of this Englishwoman will soon be displaced by our sublime mysteries: my Aziek’s mind is capable of being darkened by the prejudice of affection, but affection also may enlighten it again.”

With this soothing thought he yielded to his joy, and expressed it rapturously: the entrance of the Sophi, whom not even his august dignity could restrain from hastening to his preserver, interrupted the conversation.

A blush of graceful shame again painted Abbas’s features: restored to dominion and to happiness, he could no longer deny himself the gratification of confessing his faults, expressing his gratitude, and intreating forgiveness. “Jealous love,” he concluded, “is stronger than friendship: I saw Maimuna with you, I believed you a seducer and a dissembler; for I would not believe the woman I worshipped afar off like some sacred star, whom I trembled to address till I could lay such laurels at her feet as her father had been accustomed to gather—I could not believe this woman capable of following into a camp the man who either slighted or was ignorant of her passion. How could the timid mind of the most timid of lovers divine, that it was to be near him she entered the service of another? swept away by a tempest of fury, I forgot those virtues, those benefits”—

Sebastian interrupted this speech by a warm embrace; he conjured his friend to bury all thought of the past, and presenting to him Kara Aziek, (who had modestly retired, but now re-appeared at her hero’s voice) he requested an apartment for her in the palace of the Princess of Persia.

Overjoyed to have anything in his power to grant, Abbas immediately ordered the royal litter, and had the Moorish lady conveyed to his sister’s residence.

There Kara Aziek beheld herself once more in the society of women, whose minds and hearts somewhat resembled her own: the interesting Maimuna, and her young likeness Princess Zelide, by turns soothed and amused her. Maimuna discoursed of Sebastian; (for she loved, and she knew therefore the theme that would be most delightful) Zelide alternately painted the late horrors, and the smiling prospects of futurity, and with her April-like discourse, gave wings to the passing hours.

While these new associates reposed on their divans, the Christian knight and the Sophi unwillingly left them for consultation on state affairs. The new monarch sought the advice of a friend, whose opinions he received as oracles, and considered like inspiration he knew not the complicated machine of government, which had once been moved by that powerful hand!

Having decided on means for concluding the war with the campaign, and forcing the enemy into restitution, they discussed several abuses in the Persian state, which only peace could enable the Sophi to reform: much salutary change was suggested by Sebastian, and eagerly embraced by Abbas, whose heart, nobly superior to his genius, required but the sight of a benevolent scheme, to welcome and to employ it.

Prompted by gratitude and affection he now offered his friend the choice of any rank or station throughout Persia, with the exercise of his own religion, and the extraordinary permission of protecting Christians, and building for them a place of worship: he drew a seducing picture of their social happiness when united to the women they loved, forming one family of affection.

Sebastian grieved that he must destroy this agreeable illusion: nothing could exceed the distress of Abbas, when he heard that the friend by whose great qualities he intended henceforth to model his own character, was drawn by some strong though secret tie, to another quarter of the globe.

Sebastian had requested an escort for himself and Kara Aziek to the port of Cairo, from whence he meant to transport themselves to some maritime town of Italy, whence they might embark in one of those vessels which carried on a contraband trade with Brazil. Arguments were in vain to combat a resolution which duty commanded him to keep inviolate: Sebastian believed himself called on to seek the recovery of those rights, with which Providence had originally invested him; and drawn by a more powerful, because more grateful friendship for Gaspar, than that which Abbas excited, reined in with difficulty an expression of his in patience to be gone.

Finding persuasions and intreaties equally useless, and convinced by the strong emotion of his deliverer, that no common motive impelled his conduct, the Sophi yielded to necessity and promised him the escort,—while reluctantly pronouncing this promise, he tried to console himself by thinking that some little time must be allowed for the preparation of suitable marks of the Persian empire’s esteem and regret: the nuptials too of its sovereign ought to be graced by his friend’s appearance; and if that friend meant to make Kara Aziek his own by the forms of the Christian church, he must delay yet longer. The hope of thus detaining him awhile, revived the Sophi, and dismissing his saddened looks, he prepared to enjoy present happiness while it lasted.

From this period Good Fortune might be said to place her throne at Ispahan. The Turks were driven out of Syria and forced to sue for peace, which Abbas insured to his people, by granting on liberal terms to the humbled enemy: success and cheerful obedience followed the acts of his new government; his marriage was solemnized with every demonstration of joy by his subjects: and the nuptials of Sebastian, though performed almost secretly in the chapel of the ambassador, were so far from displeasing the Persians, that they celebrated them with acclamations of pleasure.

Alone and unconnected, far from her country, and voluntarily abandoning it for ever, Kara Aziek saw in the husband to whom she gave herself, her world, and her felicity! It was sweet to her tender heart to find no object share it with him! Wanted she other affection? O no!—was it not sufficient to concentrate upon one being, every sentiment which weakens by diffusion?

When Sebastian received her into his arms as the ambassador’s chaplain closed the book of prayer, when he held her against his heart that throbbed with the conviction of their eternal union, what a sacred joy stilled all those tumultuous feelings with which he had counted the moments, and hurried on the ceremony!

The same soft and delightful emotion gently agitated each; they spoke but in sighs, and with their tears. Eloquent silence! needed ye a tongue?

Sebastian would not delay his departure; he hastened its preparations, and at length reached the moment he wished.

Loaded with presents of treasure and costly attire, with which the magnificent court of Persia endeavoured to express its gratitude, and which Sebastian in vain attempted to refuse, the Christian knight and his bride prepared to quit a country they could not hope to see again. Kara Aziek had transferred all her women except one, to the Princess of Persia; and Sebastian retained only the faithful Barémel as his attendant to the new world.

The escort appointed to attend the travellers was more than sufficient for security; but the Sophi willed it should distinguish his preserver by its magnificence.

The palace resounded with lamentation when their last embraces were exchanged, the Sophi rent his garments, and threw himself on the ground in a passion of grief; he remained there without raising his head, till the sound of his friend’s departing steps no longer reached him; he then arose, and shut himself into a solitary chamber, where not even his beloved Maimuna ventured to disturb his sorrow.

Equally moved, but long disciplined in self-controul, the King of Portugal concealed as sad a heart under a calmer aspect; his gentle Aziek wept uninterruptedly. In the hall of the palace they met Sir Anthony Shirley, whom they were going to seek: his adieus were less agitating, but as impressive as those of Abbas.

“You go, brave Portuguese!” he said, “and I dare not ask whither: what destiny may that be which authorizes so much mystery; are the friends your virtue acquires to remain for ever in this ignorance?—I ask not where you go, but I would ask if you believe we shall ever meet again?”

“I hope it—nay I believe it,” replied Sebastian, brightening into animation, “you will hear of me in Europe some day; and I charge you by our friendship, to recal at that period what I owe to you now.—To you, I owe my present happiness; to you, I owe what I may have regained then: was it not to your generous reliance on my integrity that I am indebted for having acquired the power to benefit Persia?—Forget not the Knight of the Cross—forget not those lineaments by which you may remember him: the hour may come when these lineaments will present themselves to your eye under a very different garb, and when the wandering adventurer may give you a signal proof of his gratitude.—Farewel!”

As he spoke, he exchanged rings with Shirley, who, cheered by this assurance, yet bewildered by the conjectures to which it led, embraced him in silence, and kissed the hand of Kara Aziek.

The travellers then mounted the commodious carriage which had been constructed for them by order of the Sophi, and attended by a troop of horsemen and loaded camels, departed from Ispahan.