"No, no, Guillen; you must let me bind it with my handkerchief. Oh, my life would be but a small thing with which to repay your sacrifices for me!"
Then Teresa took hold of his arm and forced him to let her bind the hand, which she did with her handkerchief, which was wet with her tears.
The page blessed, in the depths of his heart, the dagger of the bandit, which was the cause of his receiving such care from Teresa, whose eyes were shedding tears for him, for the humble servitor, whose blood no other mistress but Teresa would have considered of any value.
"Guillen, Guillen, for how many sacrifices am I not your debtor! how good, how generous you are!" exclaimed the noble girl, raising her mild, moist eyes to the youth, with such an expression of gratitude and love, that the page was overcome with joy, and, not without much difficulty, he murmured—
"You owe me nothing, lady; my life is worth less than the least of the kindnesses which you have shown me."
"See, Guillen," interrupted Teresa, with an affectionate, almost childlike tone of voice, "you must not call me lady, for—I know not why—but I do not wish you to call me by that name. How am I to be your lady, when you are my sole protector, my saviour, my angel guardian? I cannot explain it, Guillen, but I feel an immense void in my heart whenever you call me by that name. For a long time I have recognised in you, not a servant, but a loyal and loving friend, and now even the name of friend seems to me cold and ungracious. If the word 'brother' did not make me tremble, if it were not so odious to me, I would call you by that name, Guillen, for it would express the feelings which your affection, your unselfishness, and your protection inspire in me. Ah, Guillen! do not call me your lady, call me simply Teresa."
The page knelt down before her, overcome by gratitude, by joy, and by love.
"Well, then," he said, "I will call you Teresa, I will call you the holiest and the kindest of women! I also find it necessary to call you by a name which expresses the feelings of a heart full of gratitude, of happiness, and of"—
The page stopped suddenly, for the word "love" was about to escape his lips, and who was he, to make a declaration of love to her, the noble heiress of the countship of Carrion? A poor page had little claims on the love of one of the noblest ladies of Castile and Leon, simply for having amused her a short time, now and then, with his conversation in the Castle of Carrion; for having accompanied her to the camp of the bandits, when she was carried off by them; for having spent four-and-twenty hours in that tent near her, without even having had the consolation of being able to protect her from the rain and the cold; and for having shed a few drops of blood in her defence. If such services deserved a recompense, were they not amply rewarded by the kindness of Teresa, who had carried that so far as to permit the humble page, the son of a poor peasant, to treat her as her equal?
These considerations sealed the lips of Guillen, in order that he might not reveal the intense love which burned in his heart.