Know she is a daughter of our tribe, and only dwelt among you to serve our purpose as occasion should fall." "Marthon!" exclaimed the Countess, looking at the veiled female with a shriek of surprise, "is not this my kinswoman ?" "Only Marthon," said Hayraddin.

"Excuse me that little piece of deceit.
I dared not carry off both the Ladies of Croye from the Wild Boar of Ardennes." "Wretch!" said Quentin, emphatically--"but it is not--shall not be too late--I will back to rescue the Lady Hameline." "Hameline," whispered the lady, in a disturbed voice, "hangs on thy arm, to thank thee for her rescue." "Ha! what!--How is this ?" said Quentin, extricating himself from her hold, and with less gentleness than he would at any other time have used towards a female of any rank.

"Is the Lady Isabelle then left behind!--Farewell--farewell." As he turned to hasten back to the castle, Hayraddin laid hold of him.--"Nay, hear you--hear you--you run upon your death! What the foul fiend did you wear the colours of the old one for ?--I will never trust blue and white silk again.

But she has almost as large a dower--has jewels and gold--hath pretensions, too, upon the earldom." While he spoke thus, panting on in broken sentences, the Bohemian struggled to detain Quentin, who at length laid his hand on his dagger, in order to extricate himself.
"Nay, if that be the case," said Hayraddin, unloosing his hold, "go--and the devil, if there be one, go along with you!" And, soon as freed from his hold, the Scot shot back to the castle with the speed of the wind.
Hayraddin then turned round to the Countess Hameline, who had sunk down on the ground, between shame, fear, and disappointment.
"Here has been a mistake," he said, "up, lady, and come with me--I will provide you, ere morning comes, a gallanter husband than this smock faced boy, and if one will not serve, you shall have twenty." The Lady Hameline was as violent in her passions, as she was vain and weak in her understanding.

Like many other persons, she went tolerably well through the ordinary duties of life, but in a crisis like the present, she was entirely incapable of doing aught, save pouring forth unavailing lamentations, and accusing Hayraddin of being a thief, a base slave, an impostor, a murderer.
"Call me Zingaro," returned he, composedly, "and you have said all at once." "Monster! you said the stars had decreed our union, and caused me to write--Oh, wretch that I was!" exclaimed the unhappy lady.
"And so they had decreed your union," said Hayraddin, "had both parties been willing--but think you the blessed constellations can make any one wed against his will ?--I was led into error with your accursed Christian gallantries, and fopperies of ribbons and favours--and the youth prefers veal to beef, I think--that 's all .-- Up and follow me, and take notice, I endure neither weeping nor swooning." "I will not stir a foot," said the Countess, obstinately.
"By the bright welkin, but you shall, though!" exclaimed Hayraddin.