“Never!” exclaimed the King, “never!” (and while he spoke, his eyes lightened with youthful ardour) “you know my character Antonio; it is formed of tougher materials than yours, it does not easily bend even to necessity. Though our exhausted country now is fainting before us, she will revive, she will recover; and then, strong in a divine cause, conscious of no motive beyond the love of mankind, (whose bodies these accursed Mahometans torture in slavery, and whose souls they draw into everlasting perdition,) I will advance under the banner of the cross, confident of victory.—What is it I seek?—not dominion, not power, nor the mere name of conqueror? I combat for the eternal good of the human race: I pant after no earthly honour; except indeed the proud distinction of having extirpated the enemies of Christ.”
“That is all, very admirable, and very true, my royal cousin,” replied the prior, “but as neither priests nor laymen can pretend to read the will of Heaven, we must not be quite so confident of success, at least you should conceive the possibility of your being ordained, (which God forbid!) to fall in the very moment of triumph, purchasing with your blood the saintly distinction to which you aspire.” The young King who was traversing the apartment, turned quickly round at this; transported with the dazzling thought his enthusiastic spirit blazed on his face; he looked at his cousin with rapture. “Such a death!—Antonio, would you not envy such a death?”
“Not in the least,” replied the prior gaily, “you must excuse me if I pray for a very different end for us both.—But if you are bent upon thus expiring like the Phœnix amidst the cloves and cinnamon of glory, suffer me to remind you, that Portugal will then have reason to lament the princess of France’s peevish countenance, and her monarch’s imprudent vow.”
Sebastian was struck with the observation: after a pause he said, “you are right; yet I am not inclined to retract. While I study the happiness of my people, surely it is not required of me to sacrifice my own?—Though at this instant, I could contentedly take the vow of celibacy to please them (if that were necessary for any good purpose,) I do not find in myself a disposition to embitter my domestic life merely for the sake of leaving them an heir to my crown.—I can imagine infinite happiness with a wife suited to my taste, consonant with my principles, and capable of catching some of my own wild-fire; and I feel a jealous something in my breast—call it pride, call it delicacy, what you will, but it is a sentiment of abhorrence at the thought of cherishing a woman who would have consented to fill the arms of any other King that might have sat on the throne of Portugal.—For this reason I cannot, I will not marry one to whom I am personally unknown—this is my determination, carry it to Alcoçava, and let him manage the refusal with the customary decorum.”
After a little good-humoured raillery, Antonio prepared to set out for Lisbon, and the King, without suffering any one to attend him, mounted a horse and rode forth.
His spirit was disturbed by that prevalent anxiety for his marriage, which his ministry had urged in support of their late proposal; and it was saddened by the small prospect there was, of his being speedily able to realize the darling wish that had grown with his growth, and strengthened with his strength. Disinterested as he firmly believed himself, and purely actuated by zeal for the holy faith, yet he could not conceal from his own conscience, that a boundless ambition of fame, had its share in regretting the delay of his purposed expedition: the enfeebled state of his dominions had prevented him from contributing any assistance to the grand coalition then forming against the Turks—and the splendid success of that coalition, deepened his chagrin. The victory of Lepanto haunted his nightly dreams; he secretly repined at the thick laurels of Don John of Austria; painfully contrasting that young admiral’s achievements, with his own blighted and withering hopes.
Wearied with thought and motion, Sebastian threw himself off his horse in a solitary spot surrounded by hills, and suffering him to graze at will, cast himself along under a shade of cork trees; there he mused over ten thousand new prospects of vain and impracticable enterprize.
The sultry air was cooled and perfumed by the breathing of aromatic plants, kept in all the greenness of spring, by several rills which trickled almost unseen beneath them; not a breeze stirred the leaves of the cork trees, and the very birds were silent: the only sound to be heard throughout the valley, was the lulling murmur of bees coming to feed upon the flowers. A steady heat glowed in the air: Sebastian cast aside his mantle and his hat, and pushed away the hair from his forehead; all the summer burned upon his cheek, but a hotter fire, the fever of impatience was in his heart.—By degrees the enervating warmth overpowered him, and he sunk into sleep.
He had not reposed long, when his slumbers were dispersed by the sound of steps and a voice; he opened his eyes; at that instant a goat twisted with flowers, and dragging along a half finished garland, bounded past with a suddenness which made the King start up.—The wanton animal was swiftly followed by a young virgin, who stopt confounded at sight of a man: part of her veil was off, and filled with the flowers she had been employed in arranging, and a profusion of bright golden hair, picturesquely disordered by the heat and the pursuit, was scattered on a neck that sparkled in the sun like alabaster. The eagerness of her feelings had heightened the lustre of her beauty to such perfection, that Sebastian almost believed the object before him a celestial vision. The blue glory of her eyes, the glittering bloom of her complexion, the gracefulness of her attitude, and the animation of her whole person, gave him for the first time in his life a complete idea of female charms.
Abashed and surprised by an exclamation which escaped him, the fair stranger turned blushing away, hastily endeavouring to cover herself with her veil.