Transported with these fantastic day-dreams, he scarcely heard the precise Hafiz, who was all this while endeavouring to explain to him, Kara Aziek’s commands about the gardens: starting at her name, he begged to have those commands repeated.
Hafiz deliberately recapitulated them; adding, that their young mistress, who was going immediately back to Mequinez, wished her new orders to be fulfilled before the feast of Ramadan, on which she should return with her father; that on hearing the particulars of Gaspar’s situation, she had instructed Hafiz, to have him carefully attended, and supplied with proper nourishment; avowing her intention of reporting Ben Tarab’s barbarity to the Almoçadem, who though strict with his slaves, was averse to their being cruelly treated.
When Hafiz ended, Sebastian abruptly exclaimed—“Perhaps I should bless my captivity, since it daily frees me from prejudice!—Hafiz, when I first fought against your countrymen, I believed myself combatting a set of wretches, devoid of every human feeling: since then, I have learned to think that the Maker of Heaven and earth, breathes so much of his divine spirit through some rare souls, that not even the pollutions of a false religion, can wholly deface their original beauty!—I had been told that your women were little better than agreeable images, without thought or will: how is it that this young and admirable lady, has been thus moved to compassionate a Christian, and condemn a Mahometan?”
“O, I can soon satisfy you;” answered the simple-minded Hafiz, “I begged for this Gaspar, in the name of Sidie Absalom.”
“And who is Sidie Absalom?” asked Sebastian.
“You would not ask that,” returned his companion, “if you had ever read the Holy Book of the Jews; he was a beautiful young man, the son of one King David—‘From the sole of his foot even to the crown of his head, there was no blemish in him.’—our women pray to him as to a saint; ask them any thing in his name, and they are afraid to deny you, for fear of not getting a husband as handsome as he was.”
Sebastian smiled at his simplicity; Kara Aziek’s actions seemed worthy of a better motive, and he failed not to bestow on them one infinitely nobler.
Hafiz now hurried him to labour: the good Moor, proud of distinction, and aware that to the activity and taste of his Portuguese slave, he should owe some liberal mark of the Almoçadem’s satisfaction, exhorted Sebastian to employ all his invention in new adornments for the baths and fountains, and in bringing to perfection the nursery of fragrant exotics, which Kara Aziek had requested he might attend.
Sebastian needed not an additional incitement to these humble tasks: it was motive enough for him, that by fancying light decorations, requiring more ingenuity than strength to accomplish, he spared his fellow-captives many a weary labour: Hafiz had long trusted them almost solely to his direction, well satisfied with seeing beautiful novelties rising around him, though he knew that they did not occupy half the time, nor exhaust half the bodily powers he had formerly been forced to lavish.
The slaves blessed with longer intervals of rest, were no more pale and squalid; they had leisure for decent attention to their persons, and permitted to form for themselves many minor comforts, health and resignation (for content can never dwell with slavery) began to appear in their looks: at this sight Sebastian’s heart glowed within him, and the consciousness of being the source from whence these blessings flowed, increased the glow. On retiring for the night of this eventful day, Hafiz allowed the King to gather some choice fruits for Gaspar, with which he hastened from the gardens.