Sebastian pointed to the goat now trailing his fantastic trappings along the ridge of a steep height—“You will not go, fair creature! he said, till you have given me permission to attempt the recovery of yon runaway?”
Fresh beauty was diffused over the exquisite features of the lady, while she willingly essayed to thank him: “I have imprudently ventured too far beyond my father’s park, she added, or you would not see me thus unattended sir. I ought not to remain here with a stranger perhaps, but your countenance insures me respect, and I think, I hope, I am not wrong in accepting your services!”
The King now led her to the shade, where she seated herself, while he ascended a neighbouring hill, and soon returned with the goat: at the playful chiding of its lovely mistress, the little animal lay down in seeming penitence beside her, suffering Sebastian to caress, and hold it prisoner. The panting fatigue of Donna Gonsalva, and the peculiar freshness of the air in the valley, afforded him a plausible excuse for seeking to detain her: Gonsalva herself, flattered with the admiration she inspired, was in no haste to recover. She was struck with the noble air of her companion, and felt some womanish curiosity about his name and rank: but Sebastian, desirous of concealing himself, without anticipating any further acquaintance, avoided her questions. He found from her own account, that she was the only daughter of the count Vimiosa, (his envoy at the court of France,) and was then inhabiting the family mansion, under the protection of a maiden aunt.
An abundance of enchanting gaiety led Gonsalva into unreserved conversation: she rallied the King upon the solitude in which she had found him, and with arch naiveté told him she should never in future address her saint without remembering to pray for the gallant solitary. “But by what name shall I pray for him?” asked she, rising to depart: the King hesitated; as he was born upon the eve of the joint feast of two Saints, he believed himself entitled to the name of either, so bid her remember him by the title of Don Fabian.
Donna Gonsalva repeated the words. “I shall not forget you; said she, remember me, when you look at this flower, that will be just five minutes, for it is withering now.” She threw him a lily out of her bosom with a smile of such magic beauty, that Sebastian could not refrain from snatching the fair hand which dropped the flower, and printing it lightly with a kiss. Gonsalva drew away her hand in displeasure. Would she have done so, had she known that this was the first kiss those lips had given to beauty, and that it was the King of Portugal who gave it?
She disappeared the next moment, leaving Sebastian endeavouring to rally himself upon so unusual an impulse of gallantry.
The beautiful Portuguese had successfully dispersed the young monarch’s gloom; it did not return: he loitered awhile longer in the scene where he had beheld her, then seeking his horse, returned to Crato.
CHAP. II.
As Antonio had business to transact for the King with his cabinet, he did not return immediately from Lisbon, and Sebastian having visited him without any of his favorite Lords, was now thrown principally upon his own resources for amusement. The weather was too hot for hunting or tennis, reading stirred his ardent spirit too violently, and he was not in the mood for general society; the next day therefore, he naturally thought of the last day’s agreeable adventure: without absolutely proposing to do so, he rode out again unattended.
On reaching the pass leading into the valley, he left his horse in charge with a goatherd who was stationed there to watch some flocks, and pursued his way on foot. The heat was moderated by a slight shower which had refreshed the verdant landscape, and now the birds sung from every copse: but the scene wanted the presence of Gonsalva; she was not there. Sebastian mechanically followed the track he had seen her take, and descending the opposite side of a steep hill, saw stretched out before him, a luxuriant and extensive vale, in which the villa and domain of Vimiosa, were nobly conspicuous.