Thus speaking, the impetuous youth placed himself once more in attitude of defence. His opponent did the same; but this time, not only were they enveloped in a thick and impenetrable gloom, but simultaneously there fell upon their ears the deep echo of a mysterious voice like those long sighs of the south-west wind which seems to complain and articulate words as it wanders imprisoned in the crooked, narrow and dim streets of Toledo.
What was uttered by that fearful and superhuman voice never could be learned; but on hearing it, both youths were seized with such profound terror that their swords dropped from their hands, their hair stood on end, and over their bodies, shaken by an involuntary tremor, and down their pallid and distorted brows a cold sweat like that of death began to flow.
The light, for the third time quenched, for the third time shone again and dispelled the dark.
“Ah!” exclaimed Lope, beholding him who was now his opponent, in other days his best friend, astounded like himself, like himself pale and motionless, “God does not mean to permit this combat, for it is a fratricidal contest; because a duel between us is an offence to heaven in whose sight we have sworn a hundred times eternal friendship.” And saying this he threw himself into the arms of Alonso, who clasped him in his own with unspeakable strength and fervor.
III.
Some moments passed during which both youths indulged in every endearment of friendship and love. Alonso spoke first and, in accents touched by the scene which we have just related, exclaimed, addressing his comrade:
“Lope, I know that you love Doña Inés; perhaps not as much as I, but you love her. Since a duel between us is impossible, let us agree to place our fate in her hands. Let us go and seek her, let her decide with free choice which of us shall be the happy one, which the wretched. Her decision shall be respected by both, and he who does not gain her favor shall to-morrow go forth with the King of Toledo and shall seek the comfort of forgetfulness in the excitement of war.”
“Since you wish it, so let it be,” replied Lope.
And arm in arm the two friends took their way toward the cathedral beneath whose shadow, in a palace of which there are now no remains, dwelt Doña Inés de Tordesillas.
It was early dawn, and as some of the kindred of Doña Inés, among them her brothers, were to march the coming day with the royal army, it was not impossible that early in the morning they could gain admittance to her palace.