While the page interpreted, as best he could, the captain smiled so winsomely that she sat up, and listened with a smile in return. She was won, and shall we say lost? The future comes rapidly now to answer for itself.
“Here is the message,” Alvarado continued, “which I could not read; but if it meant to tell me of love, what better can I than give it back to tell the same story for me?”
He kissed the flowers, and laid them before her. Picking them up, she said, with a laugh, “Tonatiah is a poet,—a god and a poet.”
He heard the interpretation, and spoke again, without relaxing his ardent gaze.
“Jesu Christo! That one so beautiful should be an infidel! She shall not be,—by the holy sepulchre, she shall not! Here, lad, take off the chain which is about my neck. It hath an iron crucifix, the very same my mother—rested be her soul!—gave me, with her blessing and prayer, what time I last bade her farewell.”
Orteguilla took off the chain and crucifix, and put them in the cavalier’s hand.
“Will my beautiful princess deign to receive these gifts from me, her slave forever? And in my presence will she put them on? And for my sake, will she always wear them? They have God’s blessing, which cannot be better bestowed.”
Instead of laying the presents down to be taken or not, this time he held them out to her directly; and she took them, and, childlike, hung them around her neck. In the act, the scarf fell, and left bare her head and face. He saw the glowing countenance, and was about to speak further, when Orteguilla stopped him.
“Moderate thyself, I pray thee, Don Pedro. Look at the hounds; they are closing us in. The way to the turret is already cut off. Have a care, I pray!”
The tone of alarm had instant effect.