Don Rafaele made no reply for a moment.
“I have heard of maids,” he then said, “whose love did so entirely sway them, that it hath led them into adventures surpassing belief. So exceeding hath been their devotion, that I have oft doubted, on pondering thereon, if it were indeed love, and thought it might be madness.”
While he thus spoke, his tone grew so sad and mournful, as if in sympathy for the infatuated beings he referred to, that Evaline was moved to the soul.
“These maids loved indeed,” she said, with a deep sigh.
“Some of them followed their lovers unknown,” pursued Don Rafaele; “and, for their sakes, did bear with great troubles, with fatigues, watchings, dangers, and divers singular hardships. An’ it be true that I have heard, there are no such maids now.”
Evaline sighed.
“But, to speak simple sooth, methinks I heard but fables,” continued Don Rafaele; “and such maids have never been.”
“Oh, say not that, Senhor!” answered Evaline, earnestly. “Be assured, though these maids certainly sustained marvellous trials, the love of woman, which urged them thereto, was well able to bear them up, and requite them for their misadventures.”
“To give up country, kindred, and fortune,” said Don Rafaele; “and, in strange lands, encounter notable perils:—i’faith, ’tis exceeding singular! Couldst thou do as much for him?”
Evaline made no reply.