went a little apart to fetch water from a
spring, and beheld a sight that filled him
with emotion. A group of wild horses was
careering through the wilderness, and passed
near the prostrate colt. They seemed in a
hurry; but yet a mare observed the fainting
thing, and, detaching herself, came and
offered it suck. Kebir accepted gratefully,
and, when he was satisfied, leaned his nostrils
against the nostrils of the mare, as if to kiss
her or confide his sorrow. They communed
for a moment; but then the stranger beat
the earth with her feet, and went away to
her old companions, which were careering
impatiently to and fro in the distance. They
had soon disappeared.

Thus refreshed Kebir went cheerfully
along, still in the same direction, until he led
Boukor to the borders of the Danube. Here,
having stretched out his neck over the waters,
he lay down to rest; and, evening drawing
near, the merchant, seeking the shelter of a
tree, was glad to sleep away his fatigues. In
the morning he awoke. His trusty steed was
still by his side; but Kebir—unfaithful
Kebir!—had disappeared.

Boukor mourned the loss of his guide and
companion bitterly. He examined carefully
the banks of the river, but could find no
trace of footsteps. Evidently Kebir had
breasted the current, and had been punished
by death for his ingratitude. The stream
was broad, so that scarcely the opposite
bank could be descried. How could a colt,
enfeebled by fatigue, cross a current which
no war-horse could breast?

It seemed now impossible to continue the
pursuit with any chance of success. Yet
how was it possible to abandon all hope of
again seeing the truant Guzla? Whilst it
seemed certain that she would be found,
Boukor had cheated himself into the belief
that he was in a most ferocious state of mind,
that his pursuit was undertaken for purposes
of slaughter. But now that the clue was
broken, he was obliged to confess that all his
terrible resolves were feigned, and that his
furious ride was undertaken once more to
kiss his Guzla on the temples, and to scold her
with tears for her disobedience. So he sat
with trembling lip on the dreary banks of the
Danube.

A fisherman approached, and, seeing this
man of sorrow, asked whence he came and
what ailed him. Boukor gladly related
his history. The fisherman, having listened
attentively, advised him to continue his
pursuit.

"But how traverse that mighty river, and
who henceforward will guide me?"

"I have a boat. Let us cross: and I will
be your companion."

They crossed in safety, and penetrated
together into the country beyond. The land
was marvellously fertile, the air pure, the
hills and valleys beautiful. But no
inhabitants showed themselves. It seemed as
if they had discovered a new world. Boukor
went on admiring, until he came to the
borders of a river that watered a paradise of
mountains, plains, and woods.

"What is the name of this river?"
said he.

"The Dimbowrtza," replied the fisherman.

The merchant was pleased with the aspect
of the place, and proposed that they should
rest awhile. As he spoke he perceived a
little hut amongst the trees; and the two
together proceeded towards it. A trampling
and brushing of boughs on one hand attracted
their attention; and suddenly Zarah, followed
by her colt, Kebir, came bounding towards
them!

It was certain now that Severin and Guzla
could not be far off. Boukor bade his guide
proceed towards the hut, whilst he scoured
the plain in the direction from which the
mare and its colt had come. He did so in
vain; and, after several hours, found himself
once more alone, lost in the wilderness. This,
time he gave himself up to despair, and
throwing himself upon the ground, wept. As
he lay he heard footsteps approaching, and
presently this dialogue fell on his ears.

"Come under the boughs, love; the man
admits that his companion is from the south.
If it should be he we are lost."

"Nay, I hope it be not: and yet if it
were—"

"He would slay us both."

"Perhaps he has already pardoned us."

"The aged are hasty, and strike before
they think."

"But sometimes they kiss before they
strike."

"Guzla, shall we return to the hut?"

"Nay! if he should not pardon thee? Let
us fly, Severin."

The old man started to his feet. The first
movement of the lovers was to press together,
as if for mutual protection; and then they
rushed into the old man's embrace, and
mingled their tears of repentance with his
tears of pardon. It is sweet to be forgiven;
but it is sweeter still to forgive. The old man,
spent the pleasantest hour of his life, as he
strolled, with Guzla on one side and Severin
on the other—each supporting his footsteps
—back through the woods and glades, towards
the hut, where the good fisherman awaited
their return.

The happy family spent some time together
on that spot, but at length the fisherman
wished to go back to his boat. "Nay," said
Boukor, "let us not separate. I will found
a city in this beautiful place, and spend my
wealth in adorning it." So he brought all
his fortune thither, and collected workmen
from the surrounding countries, and they
built a city, and called it Boukor Aske—
the City of Boukor—and it is known even
unto this day by the corrupted name of
Boukarest, and has become the capital of
Wallachia.