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"I give thee my gage," said the cavalier, "with this understanding, then, that I am free to fly, whenever I may do so without perilling thy life, and the life of Jacinto."
"And thou wilt hold to this pledge, like a true cavalier?" demanded Abdalla, quickly.
"Surely, I cannot break my plighted word!"
"G.o.d be thanked!" cried the Zegri, grasping the hand of the cavalier, "for, by this promise, thou hast saved thy life! Remain here; Jacinto shall be thy jailor, thy companion, thy servant. Be content with thy lot, and thank G.o.d; for thou art the only brand plucked out of the burning, while all the rest shall perish.--G.o.d be praised!--I save my benefactor!"
With these exclamations of satisfaction, Abdalla departed from the chamber.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
The cavalier pondered, in perplexity, over the words of Abdalla; and, the longer he reflected, the more he began to lament his captivity, and doubt the wisdom of his gage.
"It is apparent to me," he soliloquized, "that my countrymen are in greater jeopardy than I before apprehended, and that it has been the plot of this subtle Moor, (whom I confess, however, to have something elevated and n.o.ble in his way of thinking, and much grat.i.tude of heart, though of a mistaken character,) to keep me out of harm's way, while the Mexicans are murdering my companions. Heaven forgive me my rash parole, if this be true; for such safety becomes dishonour and ignominy. I will talk with him further on the subject; and if I find he hath thus schemed to preserve me, at such a price of degradation, I will straightway revoke my engagement, as being wrung from me by deceit, and quite impossible to be fulfilled.--I marvel where loiters the boy, Jacinto?
Methinks I could eat something now, for I know not how long it is since I have tasted food:--an orange, or a bunch of grapes, were not amiss.--But, heaven save me! I have heard oranges do not grow in this land; and, perhaps these poor Moriscos are no better off than my friends at the palace. G.o.d help them! for the Mexicans fight like Turks; and, once or twice, that evening of the conflagration, I thought I had got me again into the trenches of Rhodes; and as for those knaves that wounded me, never did I see more valiant devils. I am glad I left my knight so possessed of his wits.--That Botello doth seem very clearly to have apprehended my fate, though the mishap be not so miserable as death.
Truly, there did, a third time, war come out of peace; and yet, I a.s.sure myself, that, this time, it was brought about by Don Hernan rus.h.i.+ng against that supernatural creature, that looks on me in the street, and eyes me even by my bed-side."
The cavalier was startled from his revery by a light step, and as the curtain was drawn aside from the door, he almost thought, for an instant, that he beheld the visage of the priestess, peering through its folds. A second glance, however, showed him the features of the Moorish page, who came in, bearing a little basket of fruits and Indian confections, as if antic.i.p.ating his wants. These Jacinto placed before him, and then sat down at his feet.
For a few moments, Don Amador, in the satisfaction of the boy's presence forgot many of his perplexities; but observing, at last, that Jacinto's smiles were ever alternating with looks of distress and alarm, and that, sometimes, he surveyed his imprisoned master with eyes of great wildness, the cavalier began again to recur to his condition, to the mysteries which surrounded him, and especially to the suspicions, which so often attributed to the page the possession of magical arts.
"Thou saidst, Jacinto," he abruptly exclaimed, after thrusting aside the almost untasted food, and regarding the boy with a penetrating look, "that thou wert for the two last nights at my bed-side?--G.o.d be good to me! for 'tis an evil thing to be benighted so long!"
"Senor, I was."
"And, during all that time, I was entirely dispossessed of my wits?"
"Senor mio, yes. But, now, heaven be thanked your honour will recover!"
"And, thou art sure, I did not labour more under enchantment than fever?"
The page smiled, but very faintly, and without replying.
"To me, it seems no longer possible to doubt," said the cavalier, "that I have been, divers times, of late, entirely bewitched; and that thou hast had some agency in my delusions."
Jacinto smiled more pleasantly, and seemed to forget the secret thoughts which had agitated him.
"Dost thou," demanded the cavalier, "know aught of a certain supernatural priestess, that goes about the streets of this town, in pagan processions, followed by countless herds of n.o.bles and warriors?"
The page hesitated, while replying--
"I have indeed heard of such a creature, and--I may say,--I have seen her."
"Thou hast seen her!--Is she mortal?"
"Surely, I think so, n.o.ble senor," replied Jacinto, with increasing embarra.s.sment.
"For my part," said the novice, with a deep sigh and a troubled aspect, "I am almost quite convinced, that she is a spectre, and an inhabitant of h.e.l.l, sent forth upon the earth to punish me with much affliction, and, perhaps, with madness. For I think she is the spirit of Leila; and her appearance in the guise of a pagan G.o.ddess, or pagan priestess,--the one or the other,--shows me, that she whom I loved, dwells not with angels, but with devils. This is a thought," continued the cavalier, mournfully, "that burns my heart as with a coal; and if G.o.d spare my life, and return me to mine own land, I will devote my estates to buy ma.s.ses for her soul; for surely she cannot have fallen from sin into irreparable wo, but only into a punishment for some heresy, the fault of bad instruction, which may be expiated."
Jacinto regarded the distressed visage of his patron with concern, and with indecision, as if impelled, and yet afraid, to speak what might remove his anguish. Then, at last, moved by affection, and looking up with arch confidence to Don Amador, he said,--
"Senor, I can relieve you of this unhappiness. This is no spirit, but a woman, as I know full well, for I am in the secret.--I am not sure that it will not offend my father, to divulge such a secret to any Spaniard: yet can its revealment prejudice none. Know, senor, and use not this confession to my father's injury, that all this interlude of the prophetess, devised by the Mexican n.o.bles and priests, with my father's counsel and aid, is a scheme to inflame the people with fresh devotion and fury against the Spaniards, your countrymen. For, being very superst.i.tious and credulous, the common people are easily persuaded that their G.o.ds have sent them a messenger, to encourage and observe their valour; as, it is fabled, they have done in former days. The prophetess is but a puppet in their hands."
The cavalier eyed the young speaker steadfastly, until Jacinto cast his looks to the earth.
"Set this woman before me; let me look upon her," he said, gravely, and yet with earnestness.
The page returned his gaze with one of confusion, and even affright.
"Thou wilt not think to deceive me," continued his patron, "after confiding to me so much? Know thou, that it will rejoice me, relieving my mind of many pangs, to find that thy words are true, and to look upon this most beauteous, and, to my eyes, this most supernatural, barbarian.
If she be a living creature, thou hast it in thy power to produce her, for she dwells in this house. I say this, Jacinto, on strong persuasion of the fact, for last night I beheld her, and did almost touch her!"
"Senor," said the boy, briskly, "that was one of the fancies of thy delirium. It was my poor self thou wert looking on. Twenty times, or more, didst thou call to me, as being the prophetess; and as often didst thou see in me some other strange creature. Now, I was my lord Don Gabriel, your wors.h.i.+p's kinsman; now, some lady that your honour loved; now, an angel, bringing you succour in battle; now, my lord's little brother; now, his enemy;--and, twice or thrice, I was my own poor self, only that I was killing my lord with a dagger,--as if I could do any wrong to my master!"
"Is this the truth, indeed?" said the cavalier, dolorously. "I could have sworn, that I saw that woman, and that I was very sane, when I saw her. As for the after-visions, I can well believe, that they were the phantasms of fever, being very extravagant, and but vaguely remembered.--Thou deniest, then, that thou hast the power of casting spells?"
The page smiled merrily, for he perceived his patron was relieved of one irrational distress, and, banteringly, replied,--
"I will not say _that_;--I can do many things my lord would not think, and I know many he would not dream."
The cavalier was too sad and too simple-minded to jest.
"I believe thee," he said, seriously; "for, in every thing, thou art a miracle and mystery. Why is it, that thou hast obtained such a command over my affections? Why is it, that I have come to regard thee, not as a boy, young and foolish, but as one ripe in years and wisdom? It must needs be, because thou derivest thy power and thy knowledge from those astral and magical arts, which I once esteemed so vain; for I remember me, that, at thy years, I was, myself, not half so much advanced in intelligence and art, but was, on the contrary, quite a dull and foolish boy."
"It all comes of my music," said the page: "for that is a talent which matures faster than any other, and drags others along with it; besides giving one great skill in touching hearts. Your wors.h.i.+p remembers how soon young David gained the love of the Jewish king, and how he would have cured him of his melancholy, but that Saul had a bad heart. Now, my lord seems, to me, to have, like this king, an evil spirit troubling him; and perhaps, if he will let me, I can sing it away, with the ballad of the Knight and the Page; for my lord's heart is good."
"The Knight and the Page? I have never heard thee sing that," said Don Amador, somewhat indifferently. "What is it about?"
"It is about a brave cavalier, that loved a n.o.ble lady, who loved him; but being made to believe her false to her vows, he went to the wars to die, followed by a little page, whom he thought the only true friend he had left in the world."
"By my faith," said Don Amador, regarding the boy kindly, "in this respect, methinks, I am, at present, somewhat like that knight; for thou, that art, likewise, a little page, seemest to be the only friend I have left in the world--that is, in this city,--that is to say, in this part of it; for I have much confidence in the love of several at the palace, notwithstanding that I think some others were a little backward in supporting me, when beset, that evil day, by the barbarians.--Was he a Spanish knight? and of what parts?"
"Of the Sierra Morena, at some place where the Jucar washes its foot."
"In good truth!" cried the cavalier, "that is the very river that rolls by Cuenza; and herein, again, is there another parallel.--But I should inform thee, that, when the mountain reaches so far as the Jucar, and runs up along its course, it is then called the Sierra of Cuenza, and not Morena. But this is a small matter. I shall be as glad to hear of the knight of Jucar, as of one of my ancestors."
"He resembled my lord still more," said the page, "for he had fallen, fighting the infidel, very grievously wounded; and his little page remained at his side, to share his fate."
"That _I_ have, in a manner, fallen, and, as I may say, fighting the infidel, is true; but by no means can it be said, that I am grievously wounded. These cuts, that I have on my body, are but such scratches as one might make with a thorn; and, were it not for my head, which doth ever and anon ring much like to a bell, and ache somewhat immoderately, I should think myself well able to go out fighting again; not at all regarding my feebleness, which is not much, and my stiff joints, which a little exercise would greatly reduce into suppleness."
"It was the resemblance of my lord's situation to the knight of Jucar's, that reminded me of the roundelay," said Jacinto, taking up his lute, and stringing it into accord; "and now your wors.h.i.+p shall represent the wounded knight, and I the young page that followed him.--But your wors.h.i.+p should suppose me, instead of being a boy, to be a woman in disguise."
"A woman in disguise!" said the cavalier: "Is the page, then, the false mistress? There should be very good cause to put a woman in disguise; for, besides that it robs her, to appearance, if not absolutely, of the natural delicacy of her s.e.x, it forces her to be a hypocrite. A deceitful woman is still more odious than a double-faced man."