A charming breeze began to cool the heated brows of the travellers, and
the twinkling starlight revealed in the distance a grove, waving to and
fro with the gentle motion of the air. Heimbert cast his eyes to the
ground and said, “Go before me, sweet maiden, and guide my path to
the spot where I shall find this threatening Dervish. I do not wish
unnecessarily to see anything of these ensnaring enchantments.”
Zelinda did as he desired, and the relation of the two was for a
moment changed; the maiden had become the guide, and Heimbert, full of
confidence, allowed himself to be led upon the unknown path. Branches
were even now touching his cheeks, half caressingly and playfully;
wonderful birds, growing out of bushes, sang joyful songs; over the
velvet turf, upon which Heimbert ever kept his eyes fixed, there glided
gleaming serpents of green and gold, with little golden crowns, and
brilliant stones glittered on the mossy carpet. When the serpents
touched the jewels, they gave forth a silvery sound. But Heimbert let
the serpents creep and the gems sparkle, without troubling himself about
them, intent alone on following the footsteps of his guide.
“We are there!” said she with suppressed voice; and looking up he saw a
shining grotto of shells, within which he perceived a man asleep clad in
golden scale-armor of the old Numidian fashion. “Is that also a phantom,
there yonder in the golden scales?” inquired Heimbert, smiling; but
Zelinda looked very grave and replied, “Oh, no! that is the Dervish
himself, and his having put on this coat-of-mail, which has been
rendered invulnerable by dragon’s blood, is a proof that by his magic
he has become aware of our intention.” “What does that signify?” said
Heimbert; “he would have to know it at last.” And he began at once to
call out, with a cheerful voice, “Wake up, old sir, wake up! Here is an
acquaintance of yours, who has matters upon which he must speak to you.”
And as the Dervish opened his large rolling eyes, everything in the
magic grove began to move, the water began to dance, and the branches to
intertwine in wild emulation, and at the same time the precious stones
and the shells and corals emitted strange and confusing melodies.
“Roll and turn, thunder and play as you like!” exclaimed Heimbert,
looking fixedly at the maze around him; “you shall not divert me from
my own good path, and Almighty God has given me a good far-sounding
soldier’s voice which can make itself heard above all this tumult.” Then
turning to the Dervish he said, “It appears, old man, that you already
know everything which has passed between Zelinda and me. In case,
however, that it is not so, I will tell you briefly that she is already
as good as a Christian, and that she is the betrothed of a noble Spanish
knight. Place nothing in the way of her good intention; I advise you
for your own sake. But still better for your own sake would it be if you
would become a Christian yourself. Discuss the matter with me, and first
bid all this mad devilish show to cease, for our religion, dear sir,
speaks of far too tender and divine things to be talked of with violence
or with the loud voice necessary on the field of war.”
But the Dervish, burning with hatred to the Christians, had not waited
to hear the knight’s last words when he rushed at him with his drawn
scimitar. Heimbert merely parried his thrust, saying, “Take care of
yourself, sir! I have heard something of your weapons being charmed, but
that will avail but little before my sword. It has been consecrated in
holy places.”
The Dervish sprang wildly back before the sword, but equally wildly did
he spring to the other side of his adversary, who only with difficulty
caught the terrible cuts of his weapon upon his shield. Like a
gold-scaled dragon the Mohammedan swung himself round his antagonist
with an agility which, with his long flowing white beard, was ghostly
and horrible to witness. Heimbert was prepared to meet him on all sides,
ever keeping a watchful eye for some opening in the scales made by the
violence of his movements. At last it happened as he desired; between
the arm and breast on the left side the dark garments of the Dervish
became visible, and quick as lightning the German made a deadly thrust.
The old man exclaimed aloud, “Allah! Allah!” and fell forward, fearful
even in his fall, a senseless corpse.
“I pity him!” sighed Heimbert, leaning on his sword and looking down on
his fallen foe. “He has fought nobly, and even in death he called
upon his Allah, whom he looked upon as the true God. He must not lack
honorable burial.” He then dug a grave with the broad scimitar of his
adversary, laid the corpse within it, covered it over with turf,
and knelt on the spot in silent heartfelt prayer for the soul of the
departed.