Mid these wild scenes Enchantment waves her hand,
To change the face of the mysterious land;
Till the bewildering scenes around us seem
The Vain productions of a feverish dream.
ASTOLPHO, A ROMANCE.
 WHEN the Knight of the Leopard awoke from his long and profound
repose, he found himself in circumstances so different from those
in which he had lain down to sleep, that he doubted whether he
was not still dreaming, or whether the scene had not been changed
by magic. Instead of the damp grass, he lay on a couch of more
than Oriental luxury; and some kind hands had, during his repose,
stripped him of the cassock of chamois which he wore under his
armour, and substituted a night-dress of the finest linen and a
loose gown of silk. He had been canopied only by the palm-trees
of the desert, but now he lay beneath a silken pavilion, which
blazed with the richest colours of the Chinese loom, while a
slight curtain of gauze, displayed around his couch, was
calculated to protect his repose from the insects, to which he
had, ever since his arrival in these climates, been a constant
and passive prey. He looked around, as if to convince himself
that he was actually awake; and all that fell beneath his eye
partook of the splendour of his dormitory. A portable bath of
cedar, lined with silver, was ready for use, and steamed with the
odours which had been used in preparing it. On a small stand of
ebony beside the couch stood a silver vase, containing sherbet of
the most exquisite quality, cold as snow, and which the thirst
that followed the use of the strong narcotic rendered peculiarly
delicious. Still further to dispel the dregs of intoxication
which it had left behind, the knight resolved to use the bath,
and experienced in doing so a delightful refreshment. Having
dried himself with napkins of the Indian wool, he would willingly
have resumed his own coarse garments, that he might go forth to
see whether the world was as much changed without as within the
place of his repose. These, however, were nowhere to be seen,
but in their place he found a Saracen dress of rich materials,
with sabre and poniard, and all befitting an emir of distinction.
He was able to suggest no motive to himself for this exuberance
of care, excepting a suspicion that these attentions were
intended to shake him in his religious profession—as indeed it
was well known that the high esteem of the European knowledge and
courage made the Soldan unbounded in his gifts to those who,
having become his prisoners, had been induced to take the turban.
Sir Kenneth, therefore, crossing himself devoutly, resolved to
set all such snares at defiance; and that he might do so the more
firmly, conscientiously determined to avail himself as moderately
as possible of the attentions and luxuries thus liberally heaped
upon him. Still, however, he felt his head oppressed and sleepy;
and aware, too, that his undress was not fit for appearing
abroad, he reclined upon the couch, and was again locked in the
arms of slumber.
But this time his rest was not unbroken, for he was awakened by
the voice of the physician at the door of the tent, inquiring
after his health, and whether he had rested sufficiently. "May I
enter your tent?" he concluded, "for the curtain is drawn before
"The master," replied Sir Kenneth, determined to show that he was
not surprised into forgetfulness of his own condition, "need
demand no permission to enter the tent of the slave."
"But if I come not as a master?" said El Hakim, still without
"The physician," answered the knight, "hath free access to the
bedside of his patient."
"Neither come I now as a physician," replied El Hakim; "and
therefore I still request permission, ere I come under the
covering of thy tent."
"Whoever comes as a friend," said Sir Kenneth, "and such thou
hast hitherto shown thyself to me, the habitation of the friend
is ever open to him."
"Yet once again," said the Eastern sage, after the periphrastical
manner of his countrymen, "supposing that I come not as a
"Come as thou wilt," said the Scottish knight, somewhat impatient
of this circumlocution; "be what thou wilt—thou knowest well it
is neither in my power nor my inclination to refuse thee
"I come, then," said El Hakim, "as your ancient foe, but a fair
and a generous one."
He entered as he spoke; and when he stood before the bedside of
Sir Kenneth, the voice continued to be that of Adonbec, the
Arabian physician, but the form, dress, and features were those
of Ilderim of Kurdistan, called Sheerkohf. Sir Kenneth gazed
upon him as if he expected the vision to depart, like something
created by his imagination.
"Doth it so surprise thee," said Ilderim, "and thou an approved
warrior, to see that a soldier knows somewhat of the art of
healing? I say to thee, Nazarene, that an accomplished cavalier
should know how to dress his steed, as well as how to ride him;
how to forge his sword upon the stithy, as well as how to use it
in battle; how to burnish his arms, as well as how to wear them;
and, above all, how to cure wounds, as well as how to inflict
As he spoke, the Christian knight repeatedly shut his eyes, and
while they remained closed, the idea of the Hakim, with his long,
flowing dark robes, high Tartar cap, and grave gestures was
present to his imagination; but so soon as he opened them, the
graceful and richly-gemmed turban, the light hauberk of steel
rings entwisted with silver, which glanced brilliantly as it
obeyed every inflection of the body, the features freed from
their formal expression, less swarthy, and no longer shadowed by
the mass of hair (now limited to a well-trimmed beard), announced
the soldier and not the sage.
"Art thou still so much surprised," said the Emir, "and hast thou
walked in the world with such little observance, as to wonder
that men are not always what they seem? Thou thyself—art thou
what thou seemest?"
"No, by Saint Andrew!" exclaimed the knight; "for to the whole
Christian camp I seem a traitor, and I know myself to be a true
though an erring man."
"Even so I judged thee," said Ilderim; "and as we had eaten salt
together, I deemed myself bound to rescue thee from death and
contumely. But wherefore lie you still on your couch, since the
sun is high in the heavens? or are the vestments which my
sumpter-camels have afforded unworthy of your wearing?"
"Not unworthy, surely, but unfitting for it," replied the Scot.
"Give me the dress of a slave, noble Ilderim, and I will don it
with pleasure; but I cannot brook to wear the habit of the free
Eastern warrior with the turban of the Moslem."
"Nazarene," answered the Emir, "thy nation so easily entertain
suspicion that it may well render themselves suspected. Have I
not told thee that Saladin desires no converts saving those whom
the holy Prophet shall dispose to submit themselves to his law?
violence and bribery are alike alien to his plan for extending
the true faith. Hearken to me, my brother. When the blind man
was miraculously restored to sight, the scales dropped from his
eyes at the Divine pleasure. Think'st thou that any earthly
leech could have removed them? No. Such mediciner might have
tormented the patient with his instruments, or perhaps soothed
him with his balsams and cordials, but dark as he was must the
darkened man have remained; and it is even so with the blindness
of the understanding. If there be those among the Franks who,
for the sake of worldly lucre, have assumed the turban of the
Prophet, and followed the laws of Islam, with their own
consciences be the blame. Themselves sought out the bait; it was
not flung to them by the Soldan. And when they shall hereafter
be sentenced, as hypocrites, to the lowest gulf of hell, below
Christian and Jew, magician and idolater, and condemned to eat
the fruit of the tree Yacoun, which is the heads of demons, to
themselves, not to the Soldan, shall their guilt and their
punishment be attributed. Wherefore wear, without doubt or
scruple, the vesture prepared for you, since, if you proceed to
the camp of Saladin, your own native dress will expose you to
troublesome observation, and perhaps to insult."
"IF I go to the camp of Saladin?" said Sir Kenneth, repeating the
words of the Emir; "alas! am I a free agent, and rather must I
NOT go wherever your pleasure carries me?"
"Thine own will may guide thine own motions," said the Emir, "as
freely as the wind which moveth the dust of the desert in what
direction it chooseth. The noble enemy who met and well-nigh
mastered my sword cannot become my slave like him who has
crouched beneath it. If wealth and power would tempt thee to
join our people, I could ensure thy possessing them; but the man
who refused the favours of the Soldan when the axe was at his
head, will not, I fear, now accept them, when I tell him he has
his free choice."
"Complete your generosity, noble Emir," said Sir Kenneth, "by
forbearing to show me a mode of requital which conscience forbids
me to comply with. Permit me rather to express, as bound in
courtesy, my gratitude for this most chivalrous bounty, this
"Say not undeserved," replied the Emir Ilderim. "Was it not
through thy conversation, and thy account of the beauties which
grace the court of the Melech Ric, that I ventured me thither in
disguise, and thereby procured a sight the most blessed that I
have ever enjoyed—that I ever shall enjoy, until the glories of
Paradise beam on my eyes?"
"I understand you not," said Sir Kenneth, colouring alternately,
and turning pale, as one who felt that the conversation was
taking a tone of the most painful delicacy.
"Not understand me!" exclaimed the Emir. "If the sight I saw in
the tent of King Richard escaped thine observation, I will
account it duller than the edge of a buffoon's wooden falchion.
True, thou wert under sentence of death at the time; but, in my
case, had my head been dropping from the trunk, the last strained
glances of my eyeballs had distinguished with delight such a
vision of loveliness, and the head would have rolled itself
towards the incomparable houris, to kiss with its quivering lips
the hem of their vestments. Yonder royalty of England, who for
her superior loveliness deserves to be Queen of the universe—
what tenderness in her blue eye, what lustre in her tresses of
dishevelled gold! By the tomb of the Prophet, I scarce think
that the houri who shall present to me the diamond cup of
immortality will deserve so warm a caress!"
"Saracen," said Sir Kenneth sternly, "thou speakest of the wife
of Richard of England, of whom men think not and speak not as a
woman to be won, but as a Queen to be revered."
"I cry you mercy," said the Saracen. "I had forgotten your
superstitious veneration for the sex, which you consider rather
fit to be wondered at and worshipped than wooed and possessed. I
warrant, since thou exactest such profound respect to yonder
tender piece of frailty, whose every motion, step, and look
bespeaks her very woman, less than absolute adoration must not be
yielded to her of the dark tresses and nobly speaking eye. SHE
indeed, I will allow, hath in her noble port and majestic mien
something at once pure and firm; yet even she, when pressed by
opportunity and a forward lover, would, I warrant thee, thank him
in her heart rather for treating her as a mortal than as a
"Respect the kinswoman of Coeur de Lion!" said Sir Kenneth, in a
tone of unrepressed anger.
"Respect her!" answered the Emir in scorn; "by the Caaba, and if
I do, it shall be rather as the bride of Saladin."
"The infidel Soldan is unworthy to salute even a spot that has
been pressed by the foot of Edith Plantagenet!" exclaimed the
Christian, springing from his couch.
"Ha! what said the Giaour?" exclaimed the Emir, laying his hand
on his poniard hilt, while his forehead glowed like glancing
copper, and the muscles of his lips and cheeks wrought till each
curl of his beard seemed to twist and screw itself, as if alive
with instinctive wrath. But the Scottish knight, who had stood
the lion-anger of Richard, was unappalled at the tigerlike mood
of the chafed Saracen.
"What I have said," continued Sir Kenneth, with folded arms and
dauntless look, "I would, were my hands loose, maintain on foot
or horseback against all mortals; and would hold it not the most
memorable deed of my life to support it with my good broadsword
against a score of these sickles and bodkins," pointing at the
curved sabre and small poniard of the Emir.
The Saracen recovered his composure as the Christian spoke, so
far as to withdraw his hand from his weapon, as if the motion had
been without meaning, but still continued in deep ire.
"By the sword of the Prophet," he said, "which is the key both of
heaven and hell, he little values his own life, brother, who uses
the language thou dost! Believe me, that were thine hands loose,
as thou term'st it, one single true believer would find them so
much to do that thou wouldst soon wish them fettered again in
manacles of iron."
"Sooner would I wish them hewn off by the shoulder-blades!"
replied Sir Kenneth.
"Well. Thy hands are bound at present," said the Saracen, in a
more amicable tone—"bound by thine own gentle sense of courtesy;
nor have I any present purpose of setting them at liberty. We
have proved each other's strength and courage ere now, and we may
again meet in a fair field—and shame befall him who shall be
the first to part from his foeman! But now we are friends, and I
look for aid from thee rather than hard terms or defiances."
"We ARE friends," repeated the knight; and there was a pause,
during which the fiery Saracen paced the tent, like the lion,
who, after violent irritation, is said to take that method of
cooling the distemperature of his blood, ere he stretches himself
to repose in his den. The colder European remained unaltered in
posture and aspect; yet he, doubtless, was also engaged in
subduing the angry feelings which had been so unexpectedly
"Let us reason of this calmly," said the Saracen. "I am a
physician, as thou knowest, and it is written that he who would
have his wound cured must not shrink when the leech probes and
tests it. Seest thou, I am about to lay my finger on the sore.
Thou lovest this kinswoman of the Melech Ric. Unfold the veil
that shrouds thy thoughts—or unfold it not if thou wilt, for
mine eyes see through its coverings."
"I LOVED her," answered Sir Kenneth, after a pause, "as a man
loves Heaven's grace, and sued for her favour like a sinner for
"And you love her no longer?" said the Saracen.
"Alas," answered Sir Kenneth, "I am no longer worthy to love her.
I pray thee cease this discourse—thy words are poniards to me."
"Pardon me but a moment," continued Ilderim. "When thou, a poor
and obscure soldier, didst so boldly and so highly fix thine
affection, tell me, hadst thou good hope of its issue?"
"Love exists not without hope," replied the knight; "but mine was
as nearly allied to despair as that of the sailor swimming for
his life, who, as he surmounts billow after billow, catches by
intervals some gleam of the distant beacon, which shows him there
is land in sight, though his sinking heart and wearied limbs
assure him that he shall never reach it."
"And now," said Ilderim, "these hopes are sunk—that solitary
light is quenched for ever?"
"For ever," answered Sir Kenneth, in the tone of an echo from the
bosom of a ruined sepulchre.
"Methinks," said the Saracen, "if all thou lackest were some such
distant meteoric glimpse of happiness as thou hadst formerly, thy
beacon-light might be rekindled, thy hope fished up from the
ocean in which it has sunk, and thou thyself, good knight,
restored to the exercise and amusement of nourishing thy
fantastic fashion upon a diet as unsubstantial as moonlight; for,
if thou stood'st tomorrow fair in reputation as ever thou wert,
she whom thou lovest will not be less the daughter of princes and
the elected bride of Saladin."
"I would it so stood," said the Scot, "and if I did not—"
He stopped short, like a man who is afraid of boasting under
circumstances which did not permit his being put to the test.
The Saracen smiled as he concluded the sentence.
"Thou wouldst challenge the. Soldan to single combat?" said he.
"And if I did," said Sir Kenneth haughtily, "Saladin's would
neither be the first nor the best turban that I have couched
"Ay, but methinks the Soldan might regard it as too unequal a
mode of perilling the chance of a royal bride and the event of a
great war," said the Emir.
"He may be met with in the front of battle," said the knight, his
eyes gleaming with the ideas which such a thought inspired.
"He has been ever found there," said Ilderim; "nor is it his wont
to turn his horse's head from any brave encounter. But it was
not of the Soldan that I meant to speak. In a word, if it will
content thee to be placed in such reputation as may be attained
by detection of the thief who stole the Banner of England, I can
put thee in a fair way of achieving this task—that is, if thou
wilt be governed; for what says Lokman, 'If the child would walk,
the nurse must lead him; if the ignorant would understand, the
wise must instruct.'"
"And thou art wise, Ilderim," said the Scot—"wise though a
Saracen, and generous though an infidel. I have witnessed that
thou art both. Take, then, the guidance of this matter; and so
thou ask nothing of me contrary to my loyalty and my Christian
faith, I, will obey thee punctually. Do what thou hast said, and
take my life when it is accomplished."
"Listen thou to me, then," said the Saracen. "Thy noble hound is
now recovered, by the blessing of that divine medicine which
healeth man and beast; and by his sagacity shall those who
assailed him be discovered."
"Ha!" said the knight, "methinks I comprehend thee. I was dull
not to think of this!"
"But tell me," added the Emir, "hast thou any followers or
retainers in the camp by whom the animal may be known?"
"I dismissed," said Sir Kenneth, "my old attendant, thy patient,
with a varlet that waited on him, at the time when I expected to
suffer death, giving him letters for my friends in Scotland;
there are none other to whom the dog is familiar. But then my
own person is well known—my very speech will betray me, in a
camp where I have played no mean part for many months."
"Both he and thou shalt be disguised, so as to escape even close
examination. I tell thee," said the Saracen, "that not thy
brother in arms—not thy brother in blood—shall discover thee,
if thou be guided by my counsels. Thou hast seen me do matters
more difficult—he that can call the dying from the darkness of
the shadow of death can easily cast a mist before the eyes of the
living. But mark me: there is still the condition annexed to
this service—that thou deliver a letter of Saladin to the niece
of the Melech Ric, whose name is as difficult to our Eastern
tongue and lips, as her beauty is delightful to our eyes."
Sir Kenneth paused before he answered, and the Saracen observing
his hesitation, demanded of him, "if he feared to undertake this
"Not if there were death in the execution," said Sir Kenneth. "I
do but pause to consider whether it consists with my honour to
bear the letter of the Soldan, or with that of the Lady Edith to
receive it from a heathen prince."
"By the head of Mohammed, and by the honour of a soldier—by the
tomb at Mecca, and by the soul of my father," said the Emir, "I
swear to thee that the letter is written in all honour and
respect. The song of the nightingale will sooner blight the
rose-bower she loves than will the words of the Soldan offend the
ears of the lovely kinswoman of England."
"Then," said the knight, "I will bear the Soldan's letter
faithfully, as if I were his born vassal—understanding, that
beyond this simple act of service, which I will render with
fidelity, from me of all men he can least expect mediation or
advice in this his strange love-suit."
"Saladin is noble," answered the Emir, "and will not spur a
generous horse to a leap which he cannot achieve. Come with me
to my tent," he added, "and thou shalt be presently equipped with
a disguise as unsearchable as midnight, so thou mayest walk the
camp of the Nazarenes as if thou hadst on thy finger the signet
of Giaougi." [Perhaps the same with Gyges.]
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