It was here that the faithless page had first knelt and
kissed her hand; it was here that he had often vowed eternal fidelity.
The poor little damsel's heart was overladen with sad and tender
recollections, her tears began to flow, and slowly fell drop by drop
into the fountain. By degrees the crystal water became agitated,
and- bubble- bubble- bubble- boiled up and was tossed about, until a
female figure, richly clad in Moorish robes, slowly rose to view.
Jacinta was so frightened that she fled from the hall, and did not
venture to return. The next morning she related what she had seen to
her aunt, but the good lady treated it as a phantasy of her troubled
mind, or supposed she had fallen asleep and dreamt beside the
fountain. "Thou hast been thinking of the story of the three Moorish
princesses that once inhabited this tower," continued she, "and it has
entered into thy dreams."
"What story, aunt? I know nothing of it."
"Thou hast certainly heard of the three princesses, Zayda,
Zorayda, and Zorahayda, who were confined in this tower by the king
their father, and agreed to fly with three Christian cavaliers. The
two first accomplished their escape, but the third failed in her
resolution, and, it is said, died in this tower."
"I now recollect to have heard of it," said Jacinta, "and to have
wept over the fate of the gentle Zorahayda."
"Thou mayest well weep over her fate," continued the aunt, "for
the lover of Zorahayda was thy ancestor.
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