"What mean you, villain? didst thou forget my orders?"
"Certainly not, but when I was about to put them in practice, some thousands of most desperate Moors came just in time to prevent my laudable intentions. At first, bearing in mind the gallant master whom I had the honor to serve, it was my determination to fight the unbelieving rascals; but upon second thoughts, I discovered it would be more prudent to yield to necessity, and since it was not in my power to save the young lady from falling into their hands, I considered it laudable to disappoint the rebels of one prisoner at least, whom they might perhaps estimate as the most important of the two; and so, instead of making use of my arms, I had recourse to my legs, which members, on more than one occasion, I have found to be the most serviceable part of my poor self."
Gomez Arias mused for a moment upon the narration of his attendant, as though calculating the probable consequences of the event. Even in spite of the uneasiness which he pretended for the fate of Theodora, he could hardly disguise from himself a species of latent satisfaction. The event removed from his way the only impediment by which his ambitious designs could be thwarted. Theodora, in the power of the Moors, would be even more secure than in a convent, and Gomez Arias, without troubling himself about the probable fate to which his lovely and too confiding victim was exposed, continued his journey to Granada, drowning the recollection of his misconduct in the glittering prospect that was now opening before him.
The next day he met with the glorious army of Don Alonso de Aguilar, by whom he was welcomed with a friendly and parental solicitude. He had the good fortune to act a conspicuous part in the encounter which El Feri sustained at Gergal, and which ultimately led to the complete overthrow of the Moors at Alhacen, and the destruction of that town. Don Lope proceeded to Granada with the prisoners, and to offer his services to the queen upon his arrival. He soon found in the resources of his mind specious pretexts to cover his long absence from Granada, and his apparent dilatory conduct, notwithstanding the notification of his safety sent to him by his future bride. But Leonor de Aguilar, though proud and lofty, was still a woman in her affections, and willingly received the most feeble excuses, when urged as they now were by the eloquence of a favored lover.
Thus Gomez Arias, whilst his victim was abandoned to all the horrors of her fate, whilst her venerable father drank deep the bitter draught of affliction—Gomez Arias, the heartless perpetrator of so much misery, now fondly rioted in the anticipated pleasures of his approaching nuptials, and the splendid honors that awaited his union with Leonor de Aguilar.
CHAPTER IX.
Ecco l'ora—Nel sonno immerso giace
——E gli occhi all'alma luce
Non aprirà più mai? Questa mia destra
Per farsi or sta del suo morir ministra?....
Alfieri.
Est-ce une illusion soudaine
Qui trompe mes regards surpris?
Est-ce un songe dont l'ombre vaine
Trouble mes timides esprits?
J. B. Rousseau.
The night was far advanced, and the numerous guests whom the hospitality of Don Alonso had summoned together, began to retire from the joyous scene of revelry and feasting. The noisy pleasure was wearing fast away, and those antique halls no longer echoed with the boisterous mirth of so many joyous hearts; for in Aguilar's palace that night every heart was happy,—every heart save one,—one which, desolate and solitary amidst this world of rejoicing, was a prey to the canker sorrow that had fastened upon its core.
But now the convivial assemblage had retired, and the banqueting hall was left to the undisputed dominion of silence and lonely repose. No longer ornamented with all the panoplies of war, and the verdant and perfumed spoils of the garden, those glittering scenes which dazzled the eyes and benumbed the senses, were now no longer resplendent, but wore that chilling aspect which imparts to the mind a painful sensation of melancholy and regret. Upon the long tables still remained the scattered fragments, remnants of the banquet. Here the sumptuous display of the looms of Valencia were stained with the waste of racy and highly flavoured wines, and there broken goblets and ornaments of curious workmanship were flung around in the reckless excitement of the revellers. The lamps were out, and the few that still glimmered in the sockets served but to heighten with their fitful and scanty light the deserted and gloomy appearance of the scene.