ning Gothic fortresses of
Tingitania, while he himself sat down in person before the walls of Ceuta.
The Arab chieftain had been rendered confident by continual success, and
thought nothing could resist his arms and the sacred standard of the
prophet. Impatient of the tedious delays of a siege, he led his troops
boldly against the rock-built towers of Ceuta, and attempted to take the
place by storm. The onset was fierce, and the struggle desperate: the
swarthy sons of the desert were light and vigorous, and of fiery spirits;
but the Goths, inured to danger on this frontier, retained the stubborn
valor of their race, so impaired among their brethren in Spain. They were
commanded, too, by one skilled in warfare and ambitious of renown. After a
vehement conflict, the Moslem assailants were repulsed from all points,
and driven from the walls. Don Julian sallied forth, and harassed them in
their retreat; and so severe was the carnage, that the veteran Musa was
fain to break up his camp, and retire confounded from the siege.

The victory at Ceuta resounded throughout Tingitania, and spread universal
joy. On every side were heard shouts of exultation mingled with praises of
Count Julian. He was hailed by the people, wherever he went, as their
deliverer, and blessings were invoked upon his head. The heart of Count
Julian was lifted up, and his spirit swelled within him; but it was with
noble and virtuous pride, for he was conscious of having merited the
blessings of his country.

In the midst of his exultation, and while the rejoicings of the people
were yet sounding in his ears, the page arrived who bore the letter from
his unfortunate daughter.

'What tidings from the king?' said the count, as the page knelt before
him: 'None, my lord,' replied the youth, 'but I bear a letter sent in all
haste by the Lady Florinda.'

He took the letter from his bosom and presented it to his lord. As Count
Julian read it, his countenance darkened and fell. 'This,' said he,
bitterly, 'is my reward for serving a tyrant; and these are the honors
heaped on me by my country, while fighting its battles in a foreign land.
May evil overtake me, and infamy rest upon my name, if I cease until I
have full measure of revenge.'

Count Julian was vehement in his passions, and took no counsel in his
wrath. His spirit was haughty in the extreme, but destitute of true
magnanimity, and when once wounded turned to gall and venom. A dark and
malignant hatred