and
abruptly quitted the chamber.

At that moment, the women distinctly heard the loud shouts of the Moors;
and Leila, approaching the grated casement, could perceive the approach
of what seemed to her like moving wails.

Covered by ingenious constructions of wood and thick hides, the
besiegers advanced to the foot of the tower in comparative shelter from
the burning streams which still poured, fast and seething, from the
battlements; while, in the rear came showers of darts and cross-bolts
from the more distant Moors, protecting the work of the engineer, and
piercing through almost every loophole and crevice in the fortress.

Meanwhile the stalwart governor beheld, with dismay and despair, the
preparations of the engineers, whom the wooden screen-works protected
from every weapon.

"By the Holy Sepulchre!" cried he, gnashing his teeth, "they are mining
the tower, and we shall be buried in its ruins! Look out, Gonsalvo! see
you not a gleam of spears yonder over the mountain? Mine eyes are dim
with watching."

"Alas! brave Mendo, it is only the sloping sun upon the snows--but there
is hope yet."

The soldier's words terminated in a shrill and sudden cry of agony; and
he fell dead by the side of Quexada, the brain crushed by a bolt from a
Moorish arquebus.

"My best warrior!" said Quexada; "peace be with him! Ho, there! see you
yon desperate infidel urging on the miners? By the heavens above, it is
he of the white banner!--it is the sorcerer! Fire on him! he is without
the shelter of the woodworks."

Twenty shafts, from wearied and nerveless arms, fell innocuous round the
form of Almamen: and as, waving aloft his ominous banner, he disappeared
again behind the screen-works, the Spaniards almost fancied they could
hear his exulting and demon laugh.

The sixth day came, and the work of the enemy was completed. The tower
was entirely undermined--the foundations rested only upon wooden props,
which, with a humanity that was characteristic of Boabdil, had been
placed there in order that the besieged might escape ere the final crash
of their last hold.

It was now noon: the whole Moorish force, quitting the plain, occupied
the steep that spread below the tower, in multitudinous array and
breathless expectation. The miners stood aloof--the Spaniards lay
prostrate and exhausted upon the battlements, like mariners who, after
every effort against the storm, await, resigned, and almost indifferent,
the sweep of the fa