With the evening twilight the lovely lady returned and spent the night in converse with the pious youth, leaving him in the morning with her mind more humble, pure, and devout; and thus matters went on for many days. “Thy palm-wine and thy dates must be coming to an end,” said Zelinda one evening as she presented the youth with a flask of rich wine and some costly fruits. He, however, gently put aside the gift and said, “Noble lady, I would accept your gift gladly, but I fear some of your magic arts may perhaps cleave to it. Or could you assure me to the contrary by Him whom you are now beginning to know?” Zelinda cast down her eyes in silent confusion and took her presents back. On the following evening, however, she brought similar gifts, and, smiling confidently, gave the desired assurance. Heimbert then partook of them without hesitation, and from henceforth the disciple carefully provided for the sustenance of her teacher in the wilderness.

And so, as the blessed knowledge of the truth sank more and more deeply into Zelinda’s soul, so that she was often sitting till dawn before the youth, with cheeks glowing and hair dishevelled, her eyes gleaming with delight and her hands folded, unable to withdraw herself from his words, he, on his part, endeavored to make her sensible at all times that it was only Fadrique’s love for her which had urged him, his friend, into this fatal desert, and that it was this same love that had thus become the means for the attainment of her highest spiritual good. She still well remembered the handsome and terrible captain who had stormed the height that he might clasp her in his arms; and she related to her friend how the same hero had afterward saved her in the burning library. Heimbert too had many pleasant things to tell of Fadrique—of his high knightly courage, of his grave and noble manners, and of his love to Zelinda, which in the night after the battle of Tunis was no longer concealed within his passionate breast, but was betrayed to the young German in a thousand unconscious expressions between sleeping and waking. Divine truth and the image of her loving hero both at once sank deep within Zelinda’s heart, and struck root there with tender but indestructible power. Heimbert’s presence and the almost adoring admiration with which his pupil regarded him did not disturb these feelings, for from the first moment his appearance had something in it so pure and heavenly that no thoughts of earthly love intruded. When Heimbert was alone he would often smile happily within himself, saying in his own beloved German tongue, “It is indeed delightful that I am now able consciously to do the same service for Fadrique as he did for me, unconsciously, with his angelic sister.” And then he would sing some German song of Clara’s grace and beauty, the sound of which rang with strange sweetness through the desert, while it happily beguiled his solitary hours.

Once when Zelinda came in the evening twilight, gracefully bearing on her beautiful head a basket of provisions for Heimbert, he smiled at her and shook his head, saying, “It is inconceivable to me, sweet maiden, why you ever give yourself the trouble of coming to me out here in the desert. You can indeed no longer find pleasure in magic arts, since the spirit of truth and love dwells within you. If you would only transform the oasis into the natural form in which the good God created it, I would go there with you, and we should have far more time for holy converse.” “Sir,” replied Zelinda, “you speak truly. I too have thought for some days of doing so and the matter would have been already set on foot, but a strange visitor fetters my power. The Dervish whom you saw in Tunis is with me, and as in former times we have practised many magic tricks with each other, he would like again to play the old game. He perceives the change in me, and on that account urges me all the more vehemently and dangerously.”

“He must either be driven away or converted,” said Heimbert, girding on his shoulder-belt more firmly, and taking up his shield from the ground. “Have the goodness, dear maiden,” he continued, “to lead me to your enchanted isle.”

“You avoided it so before,” said the astonished Zelinda, “and it is still unchanged in its fantastic form.”

“Formerly it would have been only inconsiderate curiosity to have ventured there,” replied Heimbert. “You came too out here to me, and that was better for us both. But now the old enemy might lay snares for the ruin of all that the Lord has been working in you, and so it is a knightly duty to go. In God’s name, then, to the work!”

And they hastened forward together, through the ever-increasing darkness of the plain, on their way to the blooming island.