“I pray you give me the letter?” said Fernando, faintly.
Lazurac laughed scornfully.
“Have you no mercy—no pity?” cried Fernando. “Offer me any insult you will, but give me the letter?”
It was the first time his calm dignity had been moved to intreaty or anger; but now he flashed out suddenly—
“You do not dare to withhold it from me? Nay, nay, I would not anger you; only give me the letter?”
Lazurac drew out the letter, with Enrique’s writing above the great black seal on the cover, and held it before his eyes.
“Kneel to me then; kneel to your master, and beg him of his favour to grant you your boon.”
Fernando drew himself up for a moment, while the other Portuguese rushed forward and threw themselves on their knees.
“Give us the letter,” they cried; “but spare this insult to our prince.”
“Rise, friends,” said Fernando, who had regained his self-control. “The shame lies not with me; and to my Master I kneel;” and he knelt, and for a moment raised his eyes to Heaven.