A very Queen of Hearts she seemed to him, blandly sweet, with tender eyes of heavenly blue, under the curve of faultless eyebrows, a little dimple in her cheek, the very home of love, and smiling lips, curved like Cupid’s bow.
“By my faith!” muttered Fernan to himself, as he doffed his jewelled cap, and advanced to kiss her hand; “but she is fair enough to move St. Anthony himself. Methinks I have been most unjust in doubting the good faith of Doña Teresa in proposing to me so sweet a bride.”
And the Infanta loved him; and her treacherous father, Garcia Sanchez, tempted by the prize to be attained, of half of the kingdom of Castile, by all means encouraged their frequent meetings in bower and hall, in hawking, falcon on wrist, when they rode together in the woods, or when the troubadours tuned their lyres to sing cancioneros when the sea-winds were still.
How can words tell of the raptures of the Conde? His greatest enemies had procured his greatest joy! He had only to stretch out his hand to clasp
