"Fairest of women,"
cried he, with rapture, "who and what art thou?"
"The daughter of one of the Gothic princes, who but lately ruled
over this land. The armies of my father have been destroyed, as if
by magic, among these mountains; he has been driven into exile, and
his daughter is a captive."
"Beware, O king!" whispered Ibrahim Ebn Abu Ayub, "this may be one
of these northern sorceresses of whom we have heard, who assume the
most seductive forms to beguile the unwary. Methinks I read witchcraft
in her eye, and sorcery in every movement. Doubtless this is the enemy
pointed out by the talisman."
"Son of Abu Ayub," replied the king, "thou art a wise man, I
grant, a conjuror for aught I know; but thou art little versed in
the ways of woman. In that knowledge will I yield to no man; no, not
to the wise Solomon himself, notwithstanding the number of his wives
and concubines. As to this damsel, I see no harm in her; she is fair
to look upon, and finds favor in my eyes."
"Hearken, O king!" replied the astrologer. "I have given thee many
victories by means of my talisman, but have never shared any of the
spoil. Give me then this stray captive, to solace me in my solitude
with her silver lyre. If she be indeed a sorceress, I have counter
spells that set her charms at defiance."
"What! more women!" cried Aben Habuz. "Hast thou not already dancing
women enough to solace thee?"
"Dancing women have I, it is true, but no singing women.
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