Don Rafaele, overcome with terror, covered his eyes with his hand. He felt as though the fate of Hildebrand depended on him, and that, if he looked up, the giddiness he would feel would seize on Hildebrand, and cast him down headlong. With this feeling, he remained perfectly still for several successive minutes. The brief interval seemed an age; and the uninterrupted rise and fall of his noble chest, which his declining attitude only revealed more fully, showed that it stirred within him the deepest emotion. While he was yet thus agitated, he felt some one’s hand laid gently on his arm, and, starting round, he found Hildebrand at his side.
His soft black eyes sparkled again as he beheld him in safety.
“In sooth, now,” he said, with a bright smile, “I never thought to see thee here again. Madonna! but thy dexterity is exceeding marvellous!”
“Thou thinkest so,” answered Hildebrand, “but mariners, who go aloft for mere sport, hold it lightly. But I grieve to say, we shall even need to have marvellous dexterity afore to-morrow.”
“Is danger so nigh?” asked Don Rafaele.
“Within sight, Senhor,” returned Hildebrand. “But I care not for it myself: my only care is for thee.”
“In faith, I thank thee,” said Don Rafaele, in an earnest tone. “But let thy heart be light. I am right content to be with thee; and, ’fore God, could I be safe back again at Cadiz, I would prefer me to be in peril at thy side. Be of good heart, then. I am no way afeard.”
“Beshrew me, but thou makest me love thee,” said Hildebrand.
“Would God I did!” murmured the cavalier. But, seeing that Hildebrand was about to reiterate his declaration of attachment, he added quickly, with some embarrassment,—“Well, well, I believe it. But I must below. This change of motion makes me reel.”