The party of Theodora had by this time arrived at the palace of Don Alonso de Aguilar, but an entrance was not to be effected without considerable difficulty, all the avenues leading to it being crowded with the multitude eager to congratulate the daughter of the victorious warrior. The lady herself appeared for a moment at the balcony, gaily surrounded by gallant knights and pages, waving her silken scarf in grateful acknowledgment of these public demonstrations of respect. Ramirez turned, and conducting his party to the back of the mansion, sought an easier admission by the garden entrance. Theodora was soon ushered into a splendid apartment, while her attentive conductor proceeded alone, to fulfil his instructions to the daughter of Aguilar.
During the short interval that succeeded the departure of Ramirez, the mind of Theodora was alternately agitated between hope and fear. Not that she had any reason to doubt the reception she would experience from Leonor, but she felt the painful difficulty of affording the explanation that would naturally be required of her upon the arrival of Aguilar, whose return was daily expected. These painful reflections, however, were checked by the return of Ramirez, who taking the trembling hand of Theodora, led her to Leonor's private apartment. They traversed in silence the spacious corridors of the palace, and before Theodora had time to collect her scattered senses, a pair of folding doors were thrown open, and she found herself in the presence of one whom her fervid imagination had almost portrayed as something more than mortal.
Leonor advanced gracefully to meet her guest, and observing her extreme emotion, endeavoured to sooth it by the most friendly expressions.
"So lovely a being," she said, as she led the passive Theodora towards a sofa, "needed not the recommendation of my noble parent, to be received with cordial hospitality by his daughter;—but rest yourself," she continued, "for you must be in want of repose, after the journey you have undergone."
Theodora, notwithstanding this reassuring tone, was unable to give utterance to the acknowledgments of her grateful heart. There was something in the whole appearance of Leonor that contributed to heighten her natural timidity, and even the kindness and affability of the daughter of Aguilar could not entirely dissipate an indefinable sensation of awe, which Theodora felt in her presence. She had been at first sight struck by the imposing and majestic beauty of Leonor, together with the dazzling splendour in which she was attired. Her senses were bewildered in the contemplation of so much grandeur and magnificence.
Indeed Leonor de Aguilar was designed by nature to produce those sensations in minds far more familiar with scenes of greatness and power than the simple and unsophisticated heart of the guileless Theodora. Leonor de Aguilar was a model of that peculiar beauty which partakes at once of the lovely graces of her own sex, with some of the more decided attributes of man. Her form was largely but most elegantly framed, and exhibited a classic boldness of contour that perfectly harmonized with her stateliness of carriage. Her complexion was of a transparent brown, mellowed by the rich rosy tint that played over it, and her large brilliant eyes sparkled with dazzling and energetic fire. Dark glossy tresses overshadowed her oval face, where a beautiful shaped aquiline nose, and lips of the deepest carnation, contributed to give her countenance an expression of striking brilliancy. Yet there was something stern in the resolute flash of her eye, and the bold curl of her lip. A slight tincture of hauteur was likewise occasionally to be detected, through the affability of manner by which she was characterized; and in the very tone of her voice, even when attuned to the softest expressions of kindness and regard, there was a chord that vibrated upon the ear, which told of conscious superiority and masculine genius. Yet these peculiarities were favorable to the commanding style of her beauty, and served to heighten the impression which her natural attractions could not fail to produce.
"But come," said Leonor, after the first salutations, and when Theodora felt a little reassured; "come, I must introduce you to the grand saloon, where some of the first nobility of Spain are now assembled: I am sure," she added with a smile, "those gallant knights will be greatly beholden to me for bringing so lovely an addition to their society."
"Your kind flattery," replied Theodora, "would certainly arouse a feeling of vanity, if any such, alas! still lingered in my heart; but at present sad recollections too severely oppress me to render society desirable: besides, I should feel myself lost amidst so brilliant an assemblage."
"Well," continued Leonor, "I will not impose any exertion upon my fair guest that may not accord with the present state of her mind; let us, however, hope that her sorrows are not so deeply rooted but that, in the kindness of her friends, she may soon find some alleviation. Yet," she added, "if you will not join in our festivities, you will at least be able to witness them, without inconvenience, from your casement. The grand procession will presently move towards the cathedral, to return a solemn thanksgiving for the successes of the Christian arms. The queen will shortly leave her palace, attended with the flower of Spanish warriors, and all the rank and beauty of Granada. And now, my gentle friend," she continued in a kind tone, "I shall be obliged for a time to leave you, as my attendance on the queen is absolutely required."
She then appointed two of her maids to attend on her guest, and renewing her assurances of regard and friendship, she retired, leaving the unfortunate daughter of Monteblanco deeply impressed with gratitude and admiration.