The light was now verging low, yet served the knight still to
discern that they two were no longer alone in the desert, but
were closely watched by a figure of great height and very thin,
which skipped over rocks and bushes with so much agility as,
added to the wild and hirsute appearance of the individual,
reminded him of the fauns and silvans, whose images he had seen
in the ancient temples of Rome. As the single-hearted
Scottishman had never for a moment doubted these gods of the
ancient Gentiles to be actually devils, so he now hesitated not
to believe that the blasphemous hymn of the Saracen had raised
up an infernal spirit.
"But what recks it?" said stout Sir Kenneth to himself; "down
with the fiend and his worshippers!"
He did not, however, think it necessary to give the same warning
of defiance to two enemies as he would unquestionably have
afforded to one. His hand was upon his mace, and perhaps the
unwary Saracen would have been paid for his Persian poetry by
having his brains dashed out on the spot, without any reason
assigned for it; but the Scottish Knight was spared from
committing what would have been a sore blot in his shield of
arms.
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