As they approached the dungeon in which Gaspar was, his feeble groans alone broke the sullen silence; he was the only human being who had slept in that dismal place during three nights, and might have perished there, without even the hope of succour: at the sound of his royal master’s voice, he slowly raised his head, and supported himself for an instant; but he sunk again, overpowered with pain and weakness.—Sebastian hastened to catch him on his breast, while Hafiz assured him he was pardoned, and going to be removed entirely from the influence of Ben Tarab.
The prejudiced yet well-meaning Moor accompanied this information with several animadversions upon the folly and ingratitude of attempting an escape from a residence where all the slaves were treated like trusty servants; bidding him remember, that as it was solely for Fabian’s sake he was forgiven, a second fault would draw Fabian into the same destruction.
Gaspar could only reply by a submissive motion of the head, for a merciless neglect of sending him food had rendered him so weak he could scarcely speak; he was besides too joyful for utterance; but he held his sovereign’s hand alternately to his lips and to his heart, with an energy of gratitude that needed no additional eloquence.
The wound in Gaspar’s leg was more painful that it appeared dangerous, so that Sebastian trusted he might yet recover both from it and his pulmonary complaint, if properly nursed, and kept for awhile from labouring amongst evening and morning mists:—he now made an earnest petition to Hafiz for permission to inhabit some chamber adjoining that allotted to Gaspar, in order that he might be thus enabled to devote every leisure moment to his suffering friend.
After long resisting, Hafiz reluctantly yielded; first stipulating some new exercise of his favorite’s ingenuity, by way of equivalent:—Gaspar was then conveyed to another quarter of the Cassavee, where the household slaves are lodged, and a small but not wretched apartment was assigned to him.
His wound was examined, and his internal disorder prescribed for, by a skilful renegado who acted as family physician and surgeon; Sebastian would fain have staid to assist this man, but Gaspar himself could not bear the thought of so employing his King, and Hafiz now waited for him at the labyrinth.
Eager to repay the worthy Moor’s kindness by increased diligence, Sebastian hurried into the gardens; all his generous and delighted heart beamed on his noble countenance as he moved through the verdant groves and lawns leading to the grotto; as he was hastily advancing, he was checked by an unusual sight: a group of Moorish women were just issuing from the entrance.
Rightly conjecturing that these were the Almoçadem’s daughter and her attendants, he drew back: one of the ladies was richly habited after the Morocco fashion, in a kaftan and turban embroidered with coloured silks and precious stones; her mildly superior air declared her to be Kara Aziek: she drew her veil closer at sight of a man, but stopping at the same time, said a few words to Hafiz in a very soft voice. Sebastian ventured to advance; he bent one knee to the ground, making a sign expressive of gratitude; Kara Aziek courteously motioned him to rise, and then moved away: but she frequently looked back as she went, and on turning into another walk, graciously noticed him still, by a gentle inclination of her head.
Sebastian’s eyes remained fixed on the vacant space which her figure had occupied: it was the first time he had seen a woman since he had entered Africa, (for he would not give that title to the female Alarbes) and for the first time, a train of sweet and tender emotions, glided through his bosom.
The appearance of a young and pleasing woman, is ever associated in the mind of man when under affliction, with hope of consolation and expectation of relief—Kara Aziek’s dove-like voice and pitying manner, would of themselves have been sufficient to rouse up the sanguine spirit of Sebastian, but when to these were added the late proofs of her humanity or yieldingness, he could not help indulging in reveries as delightful as they were unexpected: in five minutes his ardent imagination had gone through a whole romance of disinterested generosity on her part, and boundless gratitude on his; she had facilitated his escape, restored him to his people, and become the friend of his soul’s treasure, the incomparable Donna Gonsalva.