Neither the King nor the dervise could approve of absolute falsehood; though they were tempted to think it excusable, under such peculiar circumstances as the present, flowing as it did from loyal zeal and patriotic considerations.
Alarmed at the diffusion of such an error throughout Europe, Sebastian’s anxiety to revisit Portugal became extreme; but as they must travel on foot, Abensallah assured him that it would be culpable rashness to commence a long journey before he was completely restored to health; Arzile, the nearest Christian fortress, lay at some leagues distance, and to avoid notice, they must take a circuitous route thither, hiding themselves in the day, and proceeding through the changeable air of night.
Sebastian’s impatient nature was ill-suited to any delay, but necessity is an imperious mistress; he was therefore obliged to turn his attention towards acquiring health; and by obliging Abensallah on that point, facilitate the hour of their departure.
Each night and morning he now tried his strength among the mountains, in excursions of increasing length, gradually habituating himself to heat, fatigue, and evening damps: his wounds were at last thoroughly healed, and even the dervise could no longer refuse assent to the fresh glow that began to mantle on his cheek.
Sebastian’s eagerness had nobler sources than selfish satisfaction; he lamented every hour thus wasted at a distance from the kingdom where all his duties were centred, he wished to ease the hearts of such as mourned him dead, and above all to commence the promised work of liberation for his followers: it must be confessed that the prospect of again beholding Donna Gonsalva, and of restoring her to happiness, gave additional ardour to those honourable anxieties.
When his importunity finally prevailed on Abensallah to fix the day for their departure, pleasure sparkled in his eyes; it was the first time pleasure had appeared there since he had seen the dervise.
“Ah my son!” exclaimed the holy man, “thou must suffer many more sorrows I fear, ere the spirit that breaks forth in that bright light is finally quenched.”
“And why should it be quenched?” asked the young monarch.
“Because, replied Abensallah, it is full of an extravagant hope of such unfading raptures as are only to be found in paradise. ’Tis the very spirit of youth which falsely believes all it loves, immutable: Time that shews thee the mutability of every thing, even of human character (for alas! how insecure sometimes is virtue herself,) will extinguish, or give a new direction to this erring fire.—Hast thou my son never felt, even in the midst of what is called felicity, a sort of feebleness in thy power of enjoyment, which seemed to make happiness mock thy very grasp? commune with a beloved friend, behold this glorious scene of earth and heaven, and thou wilt acknowledge, even at the moment of liveliest emotion, that in all sublunary things we feel the want of some faculty by which we might enjoy or possess them more intimately: this faculty, whatever it may be, is doubtless reserved for another state of being. Turn and plant thy thoughts then on sublimer objects: with views thus changed, thou wilt no longer hurry impatiently through life, in search of that blessedness for which our souls are expressly formed, but will journey calmly on towards the eternal abiding place, where our Creator treasures up for the faithful, raptures ineffable.”
“I am not unmindful of that glorious eternity, be assured, good father,” returned the King, “yet I frankly acknowledge, that unless I were to believe in the permanence of human excellence, long known and long tried, life would not merely lose its charm, but become hateful to me. In yon humble grave lies one, who, had he lived, I could have anchored my soul on. Yes, gallant Stukeley! our knot of love was soon broken, but the memory of thy noble and endearing qualities can never leave me!”