ject possess that allegiance which a king
cannot obtain?"

"Because," replied Muza, boldly, "the king has delegated to a subject
the command he should himself assume. Oh, Boabdil!" he continued,
passionately--"friend of my boyhood, ere the evil days came upon
us,--gladly would I sink to rest beneath the dark waves of yonder river,
if thy arm and brain would fill up my place amongst the warriors of
Granada. And think not I say this only from our boyish love; think not
I have placed my life in thy hands only from that servile loyalty to a
single man, which the false chivalry of Christendom imposes as a sacred
creed upon its knights and nobles. But I speak and act but from one
principle--to save the religion of, my father and the land of my birth:
for this I have risked my life against the foe; for this I surrender my
life to the sovereign of my country. Granada may yet survive, if monarch
and people unite together. Granada is lost for ever, if her children, at
this fatal hour, are divided against themselves. If, then, I, O Boabdil!
am the true obstacle to thy league with thine own subjects, give me at
once to the bowstring, and my sole prayer shall be for the last remnant
of the Moorish name, and the last monarch of the Moorish dynasty."

"My son, my son! art thou convinced at last?" cried the queen,
struggling with her tears; for she was one who wept easily at heroic
sentiments, but never at the softer sorrows, or from the more womanly
emotions.

Boabdil lifted his head with a vain and momentary attempt at pride;
his eye glanced from his mother to his friend, and his better feelings
gushed upon him with irresistible force; he threw himself into Muza's
arms.

"Forgive me," he said, in broken accents, "forgive me! How could I have
wronged thee thus? Yes," he continued, as he started from the noble
breast on which for a moment he indulged no ungenerous weakness,--"yes,
prince, your example shames, but it fires me. Granada henceforth shall
have two chieftains; and if I be jealous of thee, it shall be from an
emulation thou canst not blame. Guards, retire. Mesnour! ho, Mesnour!
Proclaim at daybreak that I myself will review the troops in the
Vivarrambla. Yet"--and, as he spoke his voice faltered, and his brow
became overcast, "yet stay, seek me thyself at daybreak, and I will give
thee my commands."

"Oh, my son! why hesitate?" cried the queen, "why waver? Prosecute thine
own kingly designs, and--"

"Hush, madam," sai