The foremost rider, however, discovered their intention, and he called back to his follower to return.

Isabelle--for it was she--instantly regained the gate, which had not yet closed, but Demetrius fell into the hands of the enemy.
As wont in those bloody wars, the poor prisoner was immediately carried by an escort into the presence of the Caliph, who put the alternative in his power of either, on the instant, renouncing his religion, or submitting to the axe of the headsman.

Demetrius told his tale with a noble simplicity; and his youth, his open countenance, and stately bearing, so far gained on the heart of Abubeker, that, on his refusal to embrace Mahomedism, he begged of him seriously to consider of his situation, and ordered a delay of the sentence, which he must otherwise pronounce, until the morrow.
Heart-broken and miserable, Demetrius was loaded with chains, and carried to a gloomy place of confinement.

In the solitude of the night-hours he cursed the hour of his birth--bewailed his miserable situation--and feeling that all his schemes of happiness were thwarted, almost rejoiced that he had only a few hours to live.
The heavy hours lagged on towards daybreak, and, quite exhausted by the intense agony of his feelings, he sank down upon the ground in a profound sleep, from which a band, with crescented turbans and crooked sword-blades, awoke him.

Still persisting to reject the Prophet's faith, he was led forth to die; but, in passing through the camp, the Soubachis of the Caliph stopped the troop, as he had been commanded, and Demetrius was ushered into the tent, where Abubeker, not yet risen lay stretched on his sofa.