mosques and minarets should be converted into churches, and goodly priests and bishops should succeed to the infidel alfaquis.’

“When the Moors beheld the Christians thus drawn forth in full array in the plain, they supposed it was to offer battle, and hesitated not to accept it.  In a little while the queen beheld a body of Moorish cavalry pouring into the vega, the riders managing their fleet and fiery steeds with admirable address.  They were richly armed, and clothed in the most brilliant colors, and the caparisons of their steeds flamed with gold and embroidery.  This was the favorite squadron of Muza, composed of the flower of the youthful cavaliers of Granada.  Others succeeded, some heavily armed, others a la gineta, with lance and buckler; and lastly came the legions of foot-soldiers, with arquebus and crossbow, and spear and scimiter.

“When the queen saw this army issuing from the city, she sent to the Marques of Cadiz, and forbade any attack upon the enemy, or the acceptance of any challenge to a skirmish; for she was loth that her curiosity should cost the life of a single human being.

“The marques promised to obey, though sorely against his will; and it grieved the spirit of the Spanish cavaliers to be obliged to remain with sheathed swords while bearded by the foe.  The Moors could not comprehend the meaning of this inaction of the Christians, after having apparently invited a battle.  They sallied several times from their ranks, and approached near enough to discharge their arrows; but the Christians were immovable.  Many of the Moorish horsemen galloped close to the Christian ranks, brandishing their lances and scimiters, and defying various cavaliers to single combat; but Ferdinand had rigorously prohibited all duels of this kind, and they dared not transgress his orders under his very eye.

“Here, however, the worthy Fray Antonio Agapida, in his enthusiasm for the triumphs of the faith, records the following incident, which we fear is not sustained by any grave chronicler of the times, but rests merely on tradition, or the authority of certain poets and dramatic writers, who have perpetuated the tradition in their works.  While this grim and reluctant tranquillity prevailed along the Christian line, says Agapida, there rose a mingled shout and sound of laughter near the gate of the city.  A Moorish horseman, armed at all points, issued forth, followed by a rabble, who drew back as he approached the scene of danger.  The Moor was more robust and brawny than was common with his countrymen.  His visor was closed; he bore a huge buckler and a ponderous lance; his scimiter was of a Damascus blade, and his richly ornamented dagger was wrought by an artificer of Fez.  He was known by his device to be Tarfe, the most insolent, yet valiant, of the Moslem warriors—­the same who had hurled into the royal camp his lance, inscribed to the queen.  As he rode slowly along