Two or three days now passed before the subject was finally disposed of, and Isabella was again seated in the domestic circle, when admission was once more demanded in behalf of her confessor. The archbishop entered with a flushed face, and his whole appearance was so disturbed that it must have been observed by the most indifferent person.
"How now, holy archbishop,"—demanded Isabella—"doth thy new flock vex thy spirit, and is it so very hard to deal with an infidel?"
"'Tis naught of that, Señora—'tis naught relating to my new people. I find even the followers of the false prophet more reasonable than some who exult in Christ's name and favor. This Colon is a madman, and better fitted to become a saint in Mussulmans' eyes, than even a pilot in Your Highness' service."
At this burst of indignation, the queen, the Marchioness of Moya, and Doña Mercedes de Valverde, simultaneously dropped their needle-work, and sat looking at the prelate, with a common concern. They had all hoped that the difficulties which stood in the way of a favorable termination to the negotiation would be removed, and that the time was at hand, when the being who, in spite of the boldness and unusual character of his projects, had succeeded in so signally commanding their respect, and in interesting their feelings, was about to depart, and to furnish a practical solution to problems that had as much puzzled their reasons as they had excited their curiosity. But here was something like a sudden and unlooked-for termination to all their expectations; and while Mercedes felt something like despair chilling her heart, the queen and Doña Beatriz were both displeased.
"Didst thou duly explain to Señor Colon, the nature of our proposals, Lord Archbishop?" the former asked, with more severity of manner than she was accustomed to betray; "and doth he still insist on the pretensions to a vice-regal power, and on the offensive condition in behalf of his posterity?"
"Even so, Your Highness; were it Isabella of Castile treating with Henry of England or Louis of France, the starving Genoese could not hold higher terms or more inflexible conditions. He abateth nothing. The man deemeth himself chosen of God, to answer certain ends, and his language and conditions are such as one who felt a holy impulse to his course, could scarcely feel warranted in assuming."
"This constancy hath its merit," observed the queen; "but there is a limit to concession. I shall urge no more in the navigator's favor, but leave him to the fortune that naturally followeth self-exaltation and all extravagance of demand."
This speech apparently sealed the fate of Columbus in Castile. The archbishop was appeased, and, first holding a short private conference with his royal penitent, he left the room. Shortly after, Christoval Colon, as he was called by the Spaniards—Columbus, as he styled himself in later life—received, for a definite answer, the information that his conditions were rejected, and that the negotiation for the projected voyage to the Indies was finally at an end.
