“I trust, Sire, to your own conviction of the justice of my claim, replied De Castro firmly, the king of Portugal is born to be the glory and the examplar of Kings: he will teach the Portuguese to obey the laws, by first obeying them himself; he will respect even the simplest rights of his subjects; he will reflect that absolute power tempts to oppression, and renders self-denial the greatest effort of virtue; and in proportion as injustice is easy to him, his magnanimity will render it difficult.” Don Emanuel paused, but Sebastian was silent; for there was something in Don Emanuel’s manner which at once inspired respect, and rivetted attention: interpreting his sovereign’s looks, that nobleman continued—“Pardon my boldness, sire, if I venture to tell you, that in marrying a subject, and that subject a woman ravished from her husband, you will stain your unsullied name, and disappoint your people. Hitherto, monarchs of Portugal have strengthened their power by foreign alliances—you, sire, have refused daughters of France and Spain; and when it is known that you have refused them for a private person, may we not dread the consequences?”
“What! Don Emanuel,” interrupted Sebastian, “does your otherwise admirable theory of a prince’s duties, lead to this extravagant conclusion, that he is bound to sacrifice his domestic happiness to a mere shew of benefitting his people?—Is a powerful alliance more than a political pageant?—When did you ever find the dearest connections amongst earthly potentates, (and I blush for them whilst I urge it,) able to counterbalance the promptings of ambition and opportunity? every solid advantage would be as firmly secured to Portugal by my union with a subject as with a princess. I am not the first King of Portugal who has declared that ‘marriage is the prerogative of every man.’”
“True, Sire!” returned De Castro, respectfully, “but your majesty will remember that the august monarch who made this declaration, coupled it with these words—I promise never to invade this prerogative in the person of another, and for that reason expect never to have it invaded in my own.”
“De Castro,” said the King earnestly, “tell me that you tenderly, exclusively love her—swear it to me by your hope of eternal salvation, and whatever it may cost me, I will relinquish my own happiness, but never again expect to behold the face of your sovereign: for the man who would force to his arms an unwilling bride, must have a soul with which mine can have no fellowship.”
Extremely affected by the honourable emotion of his royal master, Don Emanuel’s voice faltered as he replied, “My nature, sire, is incapable of deriving gratification from any forced submission; much less from that submission of woman’s heart, which must be voluntary to be sweet:—be assured Donna Gonsalva shall not be compelled into my arms. To swear I love her dearer than any thing on earth, would be false, for I love my King better: I take Heaven to witness it is more for his honor and prosperity, than for my own wishes, that I thus desperately risk his displeasure. Time, perhaps, may plead in my justification, and convince you, sire, that though I refuse every other ground of discussion except that of right, yet am I sincere when I repeat, that for loyalty and the most passionate wish for your majesty’s real happiness, my heart may challenge any heart in Portugal.”
Sebastian’s indignant eyes searched the countenance of Don Emanuel; “There is a proud mystery about you, sir,” he said, “which displeases me:—I have humbled myself too much.—Since it is to be a question of right, learn to respect the rights of your prince. From this hour know that I will be obeyed.”
Don Emanuel threw himself at the King’s feet.—“Then I must implore for justice, and conjure my sovereign to decide on my claim as he would have done in a similar cause in which he was not a party. Ah, sire! you turn pale! your upright soul feels the force of that plain appeal. Would to God, for your own august sake, that you would not precipitately do an act of violence.—Have you no fears, sire, that the woman who could so long conceal, and so lightly break a sacred tie (however imposed,) has been actuated by less disinterested motives than those of virtuous love?”
At this unexpected question, the King lost all command of his passions, and fiercely motioned for Don Emanuel to withdraw; his look and gesture were too violent not to warn de Castro that he trod on the brink of a precipice: that young nobleman rose from the ground, and as he bowed respectfully, a deep sigh escaped him, he bowed again, and left the King to his own thoughts.
CHAP. III.
Sebastian’s mind was a tempest of angry feelings. It was now evident, that unless the presence and arguments of the Count Vimiosa should prevail over De Castro’s obstinacy, he must be forced to use compulsion: such measures were so abhorrent to his nature that he felt increased aversion for the man who thus rendered them necessary.