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He thus maintained an intercourse with his fellow Israelites; and often, in their dangers, had afforded them a refuge in the numerous vaults and passages, the ruins of which may still be descried beneath the mouldering foundations of that mysterious mansion. And, as the house was generally supposed the property of an absent emir, and had been especially recommended to the care of the cadis by Boabdil, who alone of the Moors knew it as one of the dwelling-places of the santon, whose ostensible residence was in apartments allotted to him within the palace,—it was, perhaps, the sole place within Granada which afforded an unsuspected and secure refuge to the hunted Israelites.

When Ximen recognised the wonted signal of his brethren, he crawled to the door; and, after the precaution of a Hebrew watchword, replied to in the same tongue, he gave admittance to the tall and stooping frame of the rich Elias.

“Worthy and excellent master!” said Ximen, after again securing the entrance; “what can bring the honoured and wealthy Elias to the chamber of the poor hireling?”

“My friend,” answered the Jew; “call me not wealthy, nor honoured. For years I have dwelt within the city; safe and respected, even by the Moslemin; verily and because I have purchased with jewel and treasure the protection of the king and the great men. But now, alas! in the sudden wrath of the heathen—ever imagining vain things—I have been summoned into the presence of their chief rabbi, and only escaped the torture by a sum that ten years of labour and the sweat of my brow cannot replace. Ximen! the bitterest thought of all is, that the frenzy of one of our own tribe has brought this desolation upon Israel.”

“My lord speaks riddles,” said Ximen, with well-feigned astonishment in his glassy eyes.

“Why dost thou wind and turn, good Ximen?” said the Jew, shaking his head; “thou knowest well what my words drive at. Thy master is the pretended Almamen; and that recreant Israelite (if Israelite, indeed, still be one who hath forsaken the customs and the forms of his forefathers) is he who hath stirred up the Jews of Cordova and Guadix, and whose folly hath brought upon us these dread things. Holy Abraham! this Jew hath cost me more than fifty Nazarenes and a hundred Moors.”

Ximen remained silent; and, the tongue of Elias being loosed by the recollection of his sad loss, the latter continued: “At the first, when the son of Issachar reappeared, and became a counsellor in the king’s court, I indeed, who had led him, then a child, to the synagogue—for old Issachar was to me dear as a brother—recognised him by his eyes and voice: but I exulted in his craft and concealment; I believed he would work mighty things for his poor brethren, and would obtain, for his father’s friend, the supplying of the king’s wives and concubines with raiment and cloth of price. But years have passed: he hath not lightened our burthens; and, by the madness that hath of late come over him, heading the heathen armies, and drawing our brethren into danger and death, he hath deserved the curse of the synagogue, and the wrath of our whole race. I find, from our brethren who escaped the Inquisition by the surrender of their substance, that his unskilful and frantic schemes were the main pretext for the sufferings of the righteous under the Nazarene; and, again, the same schemes bring on us the same oppression from the Moor. Accursed be he, and may his name perish!”

Ximen sighed, but remained silent, conjecturing to what end the Jew would bring his invectives. He was not long in suspense. After a pause, Elias recommenced, in an altered and more careless tone, “He is rich, this son of Issachar—wondrous rich.”

“He has treasures scattered over half the cities of Africa and the Orient,” said Ximen.

“Thou seest, then, my friend, that thy master hath doomed me to a heavy loss. I possess his secret; I could give him up to the king’s wrath; I could bring him to the death. But I am just and meek: let him pay my forfeiture, and I will forego mine anger.”

“Thou dost not know him,” said Ximen, alarmed at the thought of a repayment, which might grievously diminish his own heritage—of Almamen’s effects in Granada.

“But if I threaten him with exposure?”

“Thou wouldst feed the fishes of the Darro,” interrupted Ximen. “Nay, even now, if Almamen learn that thou knowest his birth and race, tremble! for thy days in the land will be numbered.”

“Verily,” exclaimed the Jew, in great alarm, “then have I fallen into the snare; for these lips revealed to him that knowledge.”

“Then is the righteous Elias a lost man, within ten days from that in which Almamen returns to Granada. I know my master: and blood is to him as water.”

“Let the wicked be consumed!” cried Elias, furiously stamping his foot, while fire flashed from his dark eyes, for the instinct of self-preservation made him fierce. “Not from me, however,” he added, more calmly, “will come his danger. Know that there be more than a hundred Jews in this city, who have sworn his death; Jews who, flying hither from Cordova, have seen their parents murdered and their substance seized, and who behold, in the son of Issachar, the cause of the murder and the spoil. They have detected the impostor, and a hundred knives are whetting even now for his blood: let him look to it. Ximen, I have spoken to thee as the foolish speak; thou mayest betray me to thy lord; but from what I have learned of thee from our brethren, I have poured my heart into thy bosom without fear. Wilt thou betray Israel, or assist us to smite the traitor?”

Ximen mused for a moment, and his meditation conjured up the treasures of his master. He stretched forth his right hand to Elias; and when the Israelites parted, they were friends.





CHAPTER VI. BOADBIL’S RETURN.—THE REAPPEARANCE OF GRANADA.

The third morning from this interview, a rumour reached Granada that Boabdil had been repulsed in his assault on the citadel of Salobrena with a severe loss; that Hernando del Pulgar had succeeded in conducting to its relief a considerable force; and that the army of Ferdinand was on its march against the Moorish king. In the midst of the excitement occasioned by these reports, a courier arrived to confirm their truth, and to announce the return of Boabdil.

At nightfall, the king, preceding his army, entered the city, and hastened to bury himself in the Alhambra. As he passed dejectedly into the women’s apartments, his stern mother met him.

“My son,” she said, bitterly, “dost thou return and not a conqueror?”

Before Boabdil could reply, a light and rapid step sped through the glittering arcades; and weeping with joy, and breaking all the Oriental restraints, Amine fell upon his bosom. “My beloved! my king! light of mine eyes! thou hast returned. Welcome—for thou art safe.”

The different form of these several salutations struck Boabdil forcibly. “Thou seest, my mother,” said he, “how great the contrast between those who love us from affection, and those who love us from pride. In

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