Don Emanuel was forbid to appear at court; yet his still generous, though indignant sovereign, neither abridged his honours nor his liberty: he testified his displeasure merely by banishing him from his presence. The prior of Crato observed this moderation and blamed it: Sebastian answered him by saying, “De Castro has to thank me for much more forbearance: were I to follow the dictates of my proud spirit, I would crush him with benefits, and render this perseverance odious to the whole world. But I disdain to take so unfair an advantage.” Antonio was not reconciled to such a refinement of honour, yet he attempted not to ridicule it. The arrival of the Count Vimiosa revived the spirits of the King; from him he expected implicit submission, and he found it. The Count had early learned the court lesson of obedience; and was besides intoxicated with the height to which his daughter’s elevation would raise himself: he professed his willingness to repair in person to Rome for the dispensation; inveighing bitterly against the rash and selfish man who thus ventured to contend with his prince.
Sebastian could not conceal from his own thoughts that he despised this pliant father, who boasted acquiescence as the fruit of reverence to royal authority, not as springing from the conviction of woman’s right to dispose of her affection and her hand: Sebastian was accustomed to estimate the value of men’s actions by their motives; and scorning those of Vimiosa, scarcely brooked his presence even in the society of his daughter. However, for her sake he gave him the palace of Xabregas, to which she was shortly after removed with her discreet aunt from the vicinity of Crato.
Though debarred from personally appearing before the King, Don Emanuel addressed a letter to him full of duteous affection, in which he offered to forego all claim upon Donna Gonsalva, provided she continued to wish it at the expiration of six months: but for that period he stipulated that she must either retire into a convent, or accept the protection of his aunt Donna Garcia di Nugnez, a lady of unblemished reputation, under her roof she might receive his visits, and those of the King also.
This proposal De Castro pressed with such earnestness (offering to pledge himself under forfeiture of his estates and life, to use no authority over the will of Donna Gonsalva,) that Sebastian was induced to consider it—there was such an air of sincerity in the whole of that young nobleman’s conduct, and his character had hitherto been so irreproachable, that it was impossible even for the passion-blinded King to refuse believing him innocent of wanton insolence. Whatever romantic notions of right and honour might tempt him into the present opposition, it was evident that he rather sought to give his prince time to recollect himself, than finally to thwart his wishes.
Stimulated to convince Don Emanuel that his choice arose not from a temporary gust of passion, Sebastian half-resolved to accept these offered terms, and consent to six months probation. With this view he hastened from the palace of Ribera to that of Xabregas, to communicate the letter to Donna Gonsalva: he found her in the midst of her little court, like the Queen of beauty surrounded by graces and loves. On his entrance the nobles retired, leaving only the prior of Crato, and Donna Sancha Vimiosa.
While the fair Portuguese read De Castro’s letter, the blood suddenly forsook her lips and cheeks; she fixed her amazed eyes on Don Antonio, as if unconscious of what they looked on, repeating aloud “for six months!”—at that moment Sebastian forgot his rational resolution; “but we are not to be debarred the society of each other all that time, my Gonsalva!” said he, tenderly kissing her hand.
Gonsalva gazed at him with a mixture of astonishment and apprehension—“already so indifferent!” she exclaimed—“artful De Castro, thou knowest but too well, I fear, how those six months would end!”
“Donna Gonsalva!” cried the prior, with no very respectful roughness, “are you in your senses?—observe the king.”
Instantaneously recalled, the beautiful Gonsalva recovered from her extraordinary agitation, and turning to her lover, beheld on his countenance such an expression of grateful surprize and fond regret, then she half sunk into his arms, repeating with the voice of a syren “you will not banish me from happiness for six long months? you will not kill your Gonsalva with fears which your authority may end for ever!”
Sebastian pressed her to him in a transport of love—“what is it you fear!” he exclaimed, “what is it alarms my Gonsalva!”