Tancred Part 39

'He is a true poet,' said an Arab, who was, like most of his brethren, a critic; 'he is in truth a second Antar.'

'If he had recited these verses before the King of Persia, he would have given him a thousand camels,' replied his neighbour, gravely.

'They ought to be suspended in the temple of Mecca,' said a third.

'What I most admire is his image of the full moon; that cannot be-too often introduced,' said a fourth.

'Truly the moon should ever shine,' said a fifth. 'Also in all truly fine verses there should be palm trees and fresh springs.'

Tancred, to whom Baroni had conveyed the meaning of the verses, was also pleased; having observed that, on a previous occasion, the great Sheikh had rewarded the bard, Tancred ventured to take a chain, which he fortunately chanced to wear, from, his neck, and sent it to the poet of Eva. This made a great sensation, and highly delighted the Arabs.

'Truly this is the brother of queens,' they whispered to each other.

Now the audience was breaking up and dispersing, and Tancred, rising, begged permission of his host to approach Eva, who was seated at the entrance of the pavilion, somewhat withdrawn from them.

'If I were a poet,' said Tancred, bending before her, 'I would attempt to express my grat.i.tude to the Lady of Bethany. I hope,' he added, after a moment's pause, 'that Baroni laid my message at your feet. When I begged your permission to thank you in person to-morrow, I had not imagined that I should have been so wilful as to quit the tent tonight.'

'It will not harm you,' said Eva; 'our Arabian nights bear balm.'

'I feel it,' said Tancred; 'this evening will complete the cure you so benignantly commenced.'

'Mine were slender knowledge and simple means,' said Eva; 'but I rejoice that they were of use, more especially as I learn that we are all interested in your pilgrimage.

'The Emir Fakredeen has spoken to you?' said Tancred, inquiringly, and with a countenance a little agitated.

'He has spoken to me of some things for which our previous conversation had not entirely unprepared me.'

'Ah!' said Tancred, musingly, 'our previous conversation. It is not very long ago since I slumbered by the side of your fountain, and yet it seems to me an age, an age of thought and events.'

'Yet even then your heart was turned towards our unhappy Asia,' said the Lady of Bethany.

'Unhappy Asia! Do you call it unhappy Asia! This land of divine deeds and divine thoughts! Its slumber is more vital than the waking life of the rest of the globe, as the dream of genius is more precious than the vigils of ordinary men. Unhappy Asia, do you call it? It is the unhappiness of Europe over which I mourn.'

'Europe, that has conquered Hindustan, protects Persia and Asia Minor, affects to have saved Syria,' said Eva, with some bitterness. 'Oh! what can we do against Europe?'

'Save it,' said Tancred.

'We cannot save ourselves; what means have we to save others?'

'The same you have ever exercised, Divine Truth. Send forth a great thought, as you have done before, from Mount Sinai, from the villages of Galilee, from the deserts of Arabia, and you may again remodel all their inst.i.tutions, change their principles of action, and breathe a new spirit into the whole scope of their existence.'

'I have sometimes dreamed such dreams,' murmured Eva, looking down. 'No, no,' she exclaimed, raising her head, after a moment's pause, 'it is impossible. Europe is too proud, with its new command over nature, to listen even to prophets. Levelling mountains, riding without horses, sailing without winds, how can these men believe that there is any power, human or divine, superior to themselves?'

'As for their command over nature,'said Tancred, 'let us see how it will operate in a second deluge. Command over nature! Why, the humblest root that serves for the food of man has mysteriously withered throughout Europe, and they are already pale at the possible consequences. This slight eccentricity of that nature which they boast they can command has already shaken empires, and may decide the fate of nations. No, gentle lady, Europe is not happy. Amid its false excitement, its bustling invention, and its endless toil, a profound melancholy broods over its spirit and gnaws at its heart. In vain they baptise their tumult by the name of progress; the whisper of a demon is ever asking them, "Progress, from whence and to what?" Excepting those who still cling to your Arabian creeds, Europe, that quarter of the globe to which G.o.d has never spoken, Europe is without consolation.'

CHAPTER x.x.xIX.

_Freedom_

THREE or four days had elapsed since the departure of Fakredeen, and during each of them Tancred saw Eva; indeed, his hours were much pa.s.sed in the pavilion of the great Sheikh, and, though he was never alone with the daughter of Besso, the language which they spoke, unknown to those about them, permitted them to confer without restraint on those subjects in which they were interested. Tancred opened his mind without reserve to Eva, for he liked to test the soundness of his conclusions by her clear intelligence. Her lofty spirit harmonised with his own high-toned soul. He found both sympathy and inspiration in her heroic purposes. Her pa.s.sionate love of her race, her deep faith in the destiny and genius of her Asian land, greatly interested him. To his present position she referred occasionally, but with reluctance; it seemed as if she thought it unkind entirely to pa.s.s it over, yet that to be reminded of it was not satisfactory. Of Fakredeen she spoke much and frequently. She expressed with frankness, even with warmth, her natural and deep regard for him, the interest she took in his career, and the high opinion she entertained of his powers; but she lamented his inventive restlessness, which often arrested action, and intimated how much he might profit by the counsels of a friend more distinguished for consistency and sternness of purpose.

In the midst of all this, Fakredeen returned. He came in the early morning, and immediately repaired to the pavilion of the great Sheikh, with whom he was long closeted. Baroni first brought the news to Tancred, and subsequently told him that the quant.i.ty of nargilehs smoked by the young Emir indicated not only a prolonged, but a difficult, controversy. Some time after this, Tancred, lounging in front of his tent, and watching the shadows as they stole over the mountain tombs, observed Fakredeen issue from the pavilion of Amalek. His flushed and radiant countenance would seem to indicate good news. As he recognised Tancred, he saluted him in the Eastern fashion, hastily touching his heart, his lip, and his brow. When he had reached Tancred, Fakredeen threw himself in his arms, and, embracing him, whispered in an agitated voice on the breast of Lord Montacute, 'Friend of my heart, you are free!'

In the meantime, Amalek announced to his tribe that at sunset the encampment would break up, and they would commence their return to the Syrian wilderness, through the regions eastward of the Dead Sea. The Lady Eva would accompany them, and the children of Rechab were to have the honour of escorting her and her attendants to the gates of Damascus.

A detachment of five-and-twenty Beni-Rechab were to accompany Fakredeen and Tancred, Ha.s.san and his Jellaheens, in a contrary direction of the desert, until they arrived at Gaza, where they were to await further orders from the young Emir.

No sooner was this intelligence circulated than the silence which had pervaded the desert ruins at once ceased. Men came out of every tent and tomb. All was bustle and noise. They chattered, they sang, they talked to their horses, they apprised their camels of the intended expedition.

They declared that the camels had consented to go; they antic.i.p.ated a prosperous journey; they speculated on what tribes they might encounter.

It required all the consciousness of great duties, all the inspiration of a great purpose, to sustain Tancred under this sudden separation from Eva. Much he regretted that it was not also his lot to traverse the Syrian wilderness, but it was not for him to interfere with arrangements which he could neither control nor comprehend. All that pa.s.sed amid the ruins of this desert city was as incoherent and restless as the incidents of a dream; yet not without the bright pa.s.sages of strange fascination which form part of the mosaic of our slumbering reveries.

At dawn a prisoner, at noon a free man, yet still, from his position, unable to move without succour, and without guides; why he was captured, how he was enfranchised, alike mysteries; Tancred yielded without a struggle to the management of that individual who was clearly master of the situation. Fakredeen decided upon everything, and no one was inclined to impugn the decrees of him whose rule commenced by conferring freedom.

It was only half an hour to sunset. The advanced guard of the children of Rechab, mounted on their dromedaries, and armed with lances, had some hours ago quitted the ruins. The camels, laden with the tents and baggage, attended by a large body of footmen with matchlocks, and who, on occasion, could add their own weight to the burden of their charge, were filing through the mountains; some hors.e.m.e.n were galloping about the plain and throwing the jereed; a considerable body, most of them dismounted, but prepared for the seat, were collected by the river side; about a dozen steeds of the purest race, one or two of them caparisoned, and a couple of dromedaries, were picketed before the pavilion of the great Sheikh, which was not yet struck, and about which some grooms were squatted, drinking coffee, and every now and then turning to the horses, and addressing them in tones of the greatest affection and respect.

Suddenly one of the grooms jumped up and said, 'He comes;' and then going up to a bright bay mare, whose dark prominent eye equalled in brilliancy, and far exceeded in intelligence, the splendid orbs of the antelope, he addressed her, and said, 'O Diamond of Derayeh, the Princess of the desert can alone ride on thee!'

There came forth from his pavilion the great Amalek, accompanied by some of his Sheikhs; there came forth from the pavilion Eva, attended by her gigantic Nubian and her maidens; there came forth from the pavilion the Emir Fakredeen and Lord Mon-tacute.

'There is but one G.o.d,' said the great Sheikh as he pressed his hand to his heart, and bade farewell to the Emir and his late prisoner. 'May he guard over us all!'

'Truly there is but one G.o.d,' echoed the attendant Sheikhs. 'May you find many springs!'

The maidens were placed on their dromedaries; the grooms, as if by magic, had already struck the pavilion of their Sheikh, and were stowing it away on the back of a camel; Eva, first imprinting on the neck of the mare a gentle embrace, vaulted into the seat of the Diamond of Derayeh, which she rode in the fashion of Zen.o.bia. To Tancred, with her inspired brow, her cheek slightly flushed, her undulating figure, her eye proud of its dominion over the beautiful animal which moved its head with haughty satisfaction at its destiny, Eva seemed the impersonation of some young cla.s.sic hero going forth to conquer a world.

Striving to throw into her countenance and the tones of her voice a cheerfulness which was really at this moment strange to them, she said, 'Farewell, Fakredeen!' and then, after a moment's hesitation, and looking at Tancred with a faltering glance which yet made his heart tremble, she added, 'Farewell, Pilgrim of Sinai.'

CHAPTER XL.

_The Romantic Story of Baroni_

THE Emir of the Lebanon and his English friend did not depart from the desert city until the morrow, Fakredeen being so wearied by his journey that he required repose.

Unsustained by his lively conversation, Tancred felt all the depression natural to his position; and, restless and disquieted, wandered about the valley in the moonlight, recalling the vanished images of the past.

After some time, unable himself to sleep, and finding Baroni disinclined to slumber, he reminded his attendant of the promise he had once given at Jerusalem, to tell something of his history. Baroni was a lively narrator, and, accompanied by his gestures, his speaking glance, and all the pantomime of his energetic and yet controlled demeanour, the narrative, as he delivered it, would have been doubtless much more amusing than the calmer form in which, upon reflection, we have thought fit to record some incidents which the reader must not in any degree suppose to form merely an episode in this history. With this observation we solicit attention to

_The history of the Baroni family._

BEING A CHAPTER IN THE LIFE OF SIDONIA.

I.

'I had no idea that you had a garrison here,' said Sidonia, as the distant sounds of martial music were wafted down a long, ancient street, that seemed narrower than it was from the great elevation of its fantastically-shaped houses, into the princ.i.p.al square in which was situate his hotel. The town was one of the least frequented of Flanders; and Sidonia, who was then a youth, scarcely of twenty summers, was on his rambling way to Frankfort, where he then resided.