"Have you nothing more direct? If not, I fear it is a bad business. But 'silence is called holy,' so I hold my peace. Still, if indeed (which the Saints forbid) he has fallen inadvertently into error, it is a comfort to reflect that there will be little difficulty in reclaiming him."
Juan made no reply. Did he expect his brother to retract? Did he wish him to do it? These were questions he scarcely dared to ask himself. From any reply he could give to them he shrank in shuddering dread.
"He was ever gentle and tractable," Fray Sebastian continued, "and ofttimes but too easy to persuade."
Juan rose, took up a stone, and threw it into the river. When the circles it made in the water had died away, he turned back to the friar. "But what can I do for him?" he asked, with an undertone of helpless sadness, touching from the lips of one so strong.
Fray Sebastian put his hand to his forehead, and looked as if he were composing another poem. "Let me see, your Excellency. There is my lord's nephew and pet page, Don Alonzo (where he has got the 'Don' I know not, but Don Dinero makes many a noble); I dare say it would not hurt the Donzelo's soft white hand to finger a purse of gold ducats, and those same ducats might help your brother's cause not a little."
"Manage the matter for me, and I will thank you heartily. Gold, to any extent that will serve him, shall be forthcoming; and, my good friend, see that you spare it not."
"Ah, Señor Don Juan, you were always generous."
"My brother's life is at stake," said Juan, softening a little. But the hard look returned as he added, "Those who live in great men's houses have many expenses, Fray. Always remember that I am your friend, and that my ducats are very much at your service also."
Fray Sebastian thanked him with his lowest bow. Juan's look changed again; this time more rapidly. "If it were possible," he added, in low, hurried tones--"if you could only bring me the least word of tidings from him--even one word to say if he lives, if he is well, how he is entreated. Three months it is now since he was taken, and I have heard no more than if they had carried him to his grave."
"It is a difficult matter, a very difficult matter that you ask of me. Were I a son of St. Dominic, I might indeed accomplish somewhat. For the black cowls are everything now. Still, I will do all I can, señor."