“Say, Guiseppo, wilt do it for my sake!”
The bewitching smile with which this was said, appeared to complete the conquest of the page.
“I’ll obey thee,” he cried, “but surely ’tis a strange request.”
“Strange? nonsense! Never call the whim of woman—strange! Hie thee away and do ’t immediately. I will tell thee more concerning this matter in the evening. Away! away!”
And as the lovely damsel tripped lightly down the steps and wended her way toward the castle gate, on an errand whose import may possibly be revealed in future pages of this history, the page Guiseppo entered the hall of the castle, while his frame shook with a pleasant fit of inward laughter.
CHAPTER THE FIFTH.
THE BRIDAL MORN.
THE WEDDING GUESTS CIRCLE ROUND THE HOLY ALTAR, WHILE THE SCHOLAR ALDARIN STRIKES HIS DAGGER AT THE INTANGIBLE AIR.
The first flash of the morn that was to gild the fair brow of the Ladye Annabel with a ducal coronet, glowed faintly in the eastern sky, and the black-bearded Jew stood in the court-yard, casting his eyes earnestly about him, as if waiting the approach of one with whom he had made an appointment.
Not long did he wait, for presently emerging from a small door inserted in a wing of the castle, near the chapel of St. George, the page Guiseppo approached, with his form muffled up in his cloak of blue velvet and gold embroidery; while his slouching hat, drooping over his face, concealed his features entirely from the view.
By his side, at a respectful distance, walked the Arab mute, his head bowed low, and his face half concealed by his jet-black locks, while he tottered under the weight of his heavy burden.
As Guiseppo gained the side of the Jew, a sentinel was passing.