Happily for Stanley, the despairing anguish of
the Moors at that moment at its height, from the triumphant entry of
the Spaniards into their beloved Albania, aggravated by the shrieks
of the victims in the unsparing slaughter, effectually turned the
attention of those around him from his fall. He sprung up, utterly
unable to account for the death of his steed: the dastard blow had
been dealt from behind, and no Moor had been near but those in front.
He looked hastily round him: a tall figure was retreating through the
thickening _melee_, whose dull, red armor, and deep, black plume,
discovered on the instant his identity. Arthur's blood tingled with
just indignation, and it was with difficulty that he restrained
himself from following, and demanding on the instant, and at the
sword's point, the meaning of the deed.
The sudden start, and muttered execration of the Italian, as Stanley
joined the victorious group around the Marquis, convinced him that his
reappearance, and unhurt, was quite contrary to his mysterious enemy's
intention. The exciting events of the siege which followed, the
alternate hope and fear of the Spaniards, reduced to great distress
by the Moors having succeeded in turning the course of a river which
supplied the city with water, and finally, the timely arrival of
succors under the Duke of Medina Sidonia, which compelled the Moors to
raise the siege and disperse--the rejoicing attendant on so great and
almost unexpected a triumph, all combined to prevent any attention to
individual concerns.
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