While these cavaliers were thus discoursing, Leonora was at the door of her chamber, intently listening to every syllable they uttered. She had been, at the first, tempted to discover herself, and to throw herself in the midst of their swords; but fear, and Marcella, had withheld her. But when the adroit duenna saw that matters were arranging very amicably, she guessed that the presence of her mistress, and her own, would spoil nothing. Accordingly, she appeared, her handkerchief in one hand and her ward in the other; and, with tears in their eyes, they prostrated themselves before Don Luis. Neither of them, indeed, felt perfectly assured; for they recollected the surprise of the previous night, and feared the old man's reproaches for this renewal of their disobedience. However, raising Leonora,—"My child," said he, "dry your tears; I will not upbraid you now: since your lover is disposed to keep the faith he has sworn to you, it is fitting that I should forget the past."
"Yes, Signor Don Luis," interrupted Belflor, "I will indeed keep my faith with Leonora; and as some amends for the insult I had intended, as the fullest satisfaction I can give to you, and as a pledge of that friendship I have vowed to Don Pedro, I offer him in marriage my sister Eugenia." "Signor!" cried Don Luis, "how can I express my satisfaction at the honour you confer upon my son? Was ever father happier than myself? You overpay me, in joy, for the grief you have caused me."
Though the old man was charmed with the Count's proposals, I cannot say as much for his son. Being sincerely taken with love for his incognita, he was so overcome with surprise and chagrin at Belflor's offer, that he had not a word to say for himself; when the latter, who did not observe his embarrassment, took leave, stating that he should at once order the necessary preparations for this double union, and that he was impatient to be bound to them eternally, by ties so endearing.
After his departure, Don Luis left Leonora with the duenna, taking with him his son, who, when they had reached his father's apartment, said, with all the frankness of a student: "Signor, do not insist, I pray you, on my marriage with the Count's sister; it is enough for the honour of our family, that he should espouse Leonora." "What! my son," replied the old man, "can you have any objection to an union with Eugenia de Belflor?" "Yes, my father," said Don Pedro; "I must confess to you, that union would prove to me the most cruel of punishments; and I will not disguise from you the reason. I love, or, rather, I adore another: for the last six months she has listened to my vows: and now, on her alone depends the happiness of my life."
"How miserable is the condition of a father!" exclaimed Don Luis: "how rarely does he find his children disposed to do as he desires them. But who is this lady that has made such deep impression on your heart?" "That, I do not yet know," replied Don Pedro. "She has promised to inform me of her name when I shall have satisfied her of my constancy and discretion; but I doubt not she does honour to one of the noblest houses of Spain."
"And you think then," said the old man, changing his tone, "that I shall be so obliging as to sanction this romantic love!—that I shall permit you to renounce an alliance, as glorious as fortune could offer to you, that you may remain faithful to an illustrious lady of whose very name you are ignorant! Do not expect so much of my kindness. No, rather strive to vanquish feelings that are inspired by an object which is most probably unworthy of them; and seek, in so doing, to merit the honour which the Count proposes for you." "You speak to me in vain, my father," replied the Student; "I feel that I can never forget her whom I have sworn to love—unknown though she be,—and that nothing can tear me from her. Were the Infanta proposed to me——" "Hold!" cried the old man angrily; "it is too much to boast thus insolently of a constancy which excites my displeasure: leave me, and let me not see you again until you are prepared to obey my will."
Don Pedro did not dare to reply to these words, for fear of hearing others more unpleasant still; so he retired to his chamber, where he passed the remainder of the night in reflections in which sorrow was not all unmixed with joy. He thought with grief that he was about to estrange himself from his family, by refusing the hand of Belflor's sister; but then he was consoled, when he reflected that his incognita would worthily esteem the greatness of the sacrifice. He even flattered himself that, after so convincing a proof of his fidelity, she would no longer conceal from him her station, which he imagined also must be equal at least to that of Eugenia.
In this hope, as soon as day appeared, he went out, and directed his steps towards the Prado, that he might pass away the time until the hour of his meeting with his mistress. With what impatience did he count the minutes as they lingered,—with what joy did he hail the happy moment when it arrived!
He found his fair unknown with Donna Juanna, the lady at whose house they met; but alas, he found her in tears, and apparently in the deepest affliction. What a sight for a lover! His own grief was forgotten: he approached her with tenderness; and throwing himself on his knees before her, "Madam," he exclaimed, "what must I think of the condition in which I see you? What dreadful misfortune do these tears, which pierce my heart, forbode?" "You dream not," she replied, "of the fatal news I bring you. Cruel fortune is about to separate us for ever;—yes! we shall meet no more."