Tan-cred placed the latter for a moment to his mouth,
and then rising, and making signs to the pages that he would now return,
they danced before him in the path till he had reached the other side
of the area of roses, and then, with a hundred bows, bending, they took
their leave of him.
The sun had just sunk as Tancred quitted the garden: a crimson glow,
shifting, as he proceeded, into rich tints of purple and of gold,
suffused the stern Judaean hills, and lent an almost supernatural lustre
to the landscape; lighting up the wild gorges, gilding the distant
glens, and still kindling the superior elevations with its living blaze.
The air, yet fervid, was freshened by a slight breeze that came over the
wilderness from the Jordan, and the big round stars that were already
floating in the skies were the brilliant heralds of the splendour of
a Syrian night. The beauteous hour and the sacred scene were alike in
unison with the heart of Tancred, softened and serious. He mused in
fascinated reverie over the dazzling incident of the day. Who was this
lady of Bethany, who seemed not unworthy to have followed Him who had
made her abiding place so memorable? Her beauty might have baffled the
most ideal painter of the fair Hebrew saints.
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