I bethought me of my father, that loyal gentleman whose only fault was that he served his Prince too well,—a Prince whose gratitude had never prompted him to inquire concerning that servant's fate, or to offer a word of consolation to the wife who had lost her all. I bethought me of my young mother, of her white, tear-stained face, of the long hours she had spent upon her knees, and how at last she prayed: "Lord! only to know that he is dead!"—yet she died ignorant.
Then did the devil come to me and whisper: "Of what use is it to have patience and faith? Does thy God bear thee in mind—or is his memory like that of the Prince thy father served? Dost thou still believe that He doeth all things well, and is there still trust in thy heart? Come, make friends of those who would aid thee—never mind a little lie! Wouldst be happy? Wouldst save thy dear love? Then cease thy vain prayers and take thy fate in thine own hands."
I rose up from my knees and looked out again upon the laughing waters,—I would do this evil thing that good might come. I would act a lying part, and soil my soul, so that I and my dear love might win freedom and happiness. But I would pray no more—for I could not ask God's blessing on a lie.
Then I went slowly back to where my temptress waited.
"Doña Orosia," I said, "I take your offer. I am young—I would be happy; and you—you would be revenged! I am not the little fool you think me: I know you too well to believe that you would aid me out of love; I laugh at your pity; but I trust your hate!"
"Bueno," she said. "It is enough. We understand one another,—but I must teach thee the part, or thou wilt fail."
"I am not so simple, señora, I can feign love—for love's sake."
"Yet I would have thee set round with thorns, my sweet. The rose that is too easy plucked is not worth wearing. And do thou give only promises and never fulfil them,—I'd baulk him of every kiss he thinks to win!"