ICO FAITH UNTO DEATH. 



away slowly to weep, like a stricken-down lily, on the breast of her 



nurse. — It was her first revelation of love, and there was agony in 



separation. 



****** 



Eight years after the event which we have just recorded, in the 

 summer of 1520, a stranger, mounted on a Barbary horse superbly 

 caparisoned, and followed by a numerous and outlandish retinue, 

 arrived at the Silver Lion, the principal inn of a village distant 

 from Amsterdam some few leagues. It being the time of a 

 festival which crowded the place to excess, the landlord was some- 

 what embarrassed how to accommodate his visitor, since he had no 

 suitable apartment save one already in the temporary occupancy of 

 a Bohemian, whose departure was arranged for the following day. 

 To suflfer so important a guest to go onward unsatisfied was 

 a calamity not to be thought of, and, with but brief hesitation, he 

 bowed the traveller into a sitting-room strewn with fine rushes, 

 and accommodated with furniture of more than ordinary con- 

 venience. In this room, seated at an oaken table with a pasty of 

 venison, some dried fruits, a goblet of malvesie, and a small casket 

 before him, was a man about thirty-five years of age, of noble 

 appearance and costly attire. He was above the middle size, 

 square-shouldered and muscular yet light and symmetrical in 

 frame j and his finely-turned head was set with the grace and 

 dignity of the Apollo j his face was eminently handsome, oval- 

 shaped, of a clear pale brown, the eyes dark and brilliant, the nose 

 aquiline^ the mouth full and finely formed, and the brows, beard 

 and mustachios of a sable hue. The expression of this individual 

 was frank, fearless and chivalrous ; in fact there was a knightly 

 grace and majesty about him that irresistibly attracted the regard 

 of the traveller. He was leaning back in his chair, in the careless 

 attitude of one unconscious of observation, when the entrance of 

 the host and his newly-arrived guest, awakened his attention. 

 Apology from the innkeeper was scarcely required, before the two 

 strangers, mutually prepossessed, were seated together in social 

 expectancy, and the board was plentifully replenished. The 

 traveller was a young man of good figure, tall and slender, with an 

 oval visage, a complexion evidently darkened by exposure to 

 eastern climes, an aspect of singular sweetness, and an eye of much 

 intelligence : his hair was worn short, and his mustachios and 

 beard trimmed close. His dress though soiled and disordered by 

 travel, was composed of the richest materials, and by its unusual 

 fashion pointed out one who had been a resident in remote lands : 

 the gymnal rings on his fingers, the chain of gold round his neck, 

 and the dagger whose hilt was encrusted with gems, no less than 

 the many individuals composing his train, bespoke the consequence 

 of the unknown. Travellers in general become speedily familiar, 

 and it was not long before the Bohemian discovered that his new 

 friend was but recently returned from the Holy Land, and had 

 many marvellous adventures to recount j he spoke of strange 

 climes, and of men and animals and birds dissimilar to all that 



