Who can express the rage of the proud Zuniga, at having received such an affront under the eyes of his mistress, and in the King’s presence! He was no longer master of himself; without any regard to the presence of their Majesties, he drew his sword; but at the very instant that he was on the point of rushing like a lion on his enemy, who on his side was prepared to receive him without fear, the bull came suddenly upon them, and obliged them to separate. This animal attacked Don Alonso, and threw him, by one toss, four or five paces off, terribly wounded in the thigh; which excited the greatest alarm on all sides. To complete the misfortune, the beast, more enraged than ever, would not quit his victim, but was preparing to return to the charge; but Ozmin, from a generous feeling worthy of the warriors of those times, did not hesitate to fly to the assistance of his rival, notwithstanding what had just passed between them. With the very stick that he had wrenched from Don Alonso, he goaded the bull so severely, that he turned all his fury against him, and bent his head with the intention of goring him with his horns. The Moor took advantage of the moment, and, hitting him a back stroke on the neck with his sword, the temper of which he could rely on, such was the amazing force of the blow, that the animal fell down dead upon the spot, to the great astonishment of all the spectators.
What had been performed by the Knight of the Blue Scarf passed for a trifling exploit compared with this, which the disadvantage of fighting on foot rendered the more glorious; and the acclamations lasted longer than before. Ozmin evaded by a quick retreat the curiosity of such as wished to know who he was. The king in vain desired to see him; he was told that he had just disappeared, and that nobody knew any thing respecting him.
Let us now return to Daraxa: she had observed the quarrel of the two rivals, and had been on the point of preventing any fatal consequences by explaining the whole affair to their Majesties, though at the risk of the loss of her lover’s liberty: but the terror with which she was seized on seeing the furious bull come upon them so suddenly, had completely deprived her of her senses. The acclamations, however, which were renewed around her, restored her by degrees. Thus this tender lover passed successively from joy to grief, and from grief to joy; and thus it is that love ever inflicts some troubles, even amid the transports that it bestows.
As the adventure respecting the nosegay had commenced just under the place where the queen was seated, it had not escaped her notice; and curious to know all the circumstances of it, she took an opportunity, the very same evening, to request a detail of them from the beautiful Moor and Donna Elvira de Padilla, who had been together during the solemnity. Daraxa, thinking it more prudent to allow Elvira to speak, however much better she herself might have afforded the explanation, said, that she had paid but little attention to what had passed. Donna Elvira then was obliged to relate what she had heard and seen; but her recital rather heightened than satisfied the Queen’s curiosity; no sooner, therefore, was Don Alonso sufficiently recovered of his wound to receive visitors, than she requested the old Marquis d’Astorgas to call upon him, in the hope of obtaining from him the information she desired. The Marquis, who was a pleasant humorous man, was ushered into Don Alonso’s chamber, and thus acquitted himself of his commission.
“Well Signor Knight without fear,” said he to Zuniga, “what think you now of these vile horned animals, who have so little respect for such fine sparks as you? You will allow that it is better to have nothing to do with them.” “You could have informed me this, from experience, long since,” replied Don Alonso, smiling. “But,” continued the Marquis, with a serious air, “will you not inform me who was the valiant man that advanced so apropos to your rescue? It is most surprising that amongst all the heroes of our Court, there was not one sufficiently your friend, to venture to dispute that honor with him: and yet it is asserted that you were on the point of fighting with this noble cavalier.” “I know better than any body my obligations to him,” answered Zuniga, “and the little cause I had given him to deliver me from so great a danger. All that I regret,” added he, “is that I do not know him; I am so charmed with his bravery, and his noble behaviour towards me, that I shall never be satisfied until I have found some means of ascertaining who he is, and of convincing him of my gratitude.”
“If this be all that you have to tell me,” said the Marquis, “the Queen will not gain much information by having sent me hither. She is not ignorant of the quarrel that you had with the stranger, the beautiful Moor and Donna Elvira having explained it to her; she thought that you would be able to satisfy her more fully on the subject; and the whole Court as well as the Queen are astonished that two cavaliers, after having performed two such glorious actions, should take as much pains to conceal themselves, as others generally take to make themselves known. Ferdinand himself is anxious that they should come forward and receive the prizes that are destined for them, and especially for the last, who, according to all appearance, was not a man of any distinguished rank.” “Judging from his dress,” cried Don Alonso, “I was, at first, of the same opinion, but I feel convinced of my mistake; whoever he be I will venture to say, that he is a great man; and I can say no more on the subject.” The Marquis d’Astorgas, finding that he could gain no further information from Zuniga, returned to the Queen.
It was believed at Court that all this was not without mystery, and that Don Alonso, in return for the generosity that he had experienced, would not betray a cavalier who wished to be incognito. As for Daraxa, nobody suspected that she was at all privy to the matter; and the concern that she had evinced during the sports, was attributed solely to the misfortune of Don Alonso. It was very reasonably thought that she was kind enough to feel interested for a young nobleman, who was her champion as well as her adorer. She enjoyed in private the undivided pleasure of knowing what had happened; but this happiness was accompanied by the intrusion of many anxious thoughts. She had distinctly heard what Ozmin had said to his rival about the knot of ribbon, and she so well knew the delicate feelings of the Moors on such occasions, that she reproached herself with imprudence for having given to Zuniga any thing that had been presented to her by so dear a hand. She could find no excuse for having committed this fault, although her heart had no participation in it. She could not write to Ozmin, for she knew not where he was to be found; she could only hope that her lover would find some means or other of communicating with her. Several days passed in this sweet yet painful expectation; sometimes she reflected with pleasure that her future husband was in the same city as herself, and at other times, was distractedly impatient to see him. Time, however, brings every thing about.
You have, in all probability, walked in the gardens of the palace of Seville, and know which is called the upper and which the lower garden; they are literally two gardens, one above the other: the upper one, which is supported upon arches, is upon a level with the first floor of the palace, and is a complete flower garden. The lower garden, which is the larger of the two, was only open to the men belonging to the Court, who were permitted to walk there at certain hours. The upper garden was entirely reserved for the ladies, who frequently walked there to shew themselves to the gentlemen, with whom they occasionally conversed over the balustrade which runs about elbow high, quite round the garden; but these conversations were only permitted when the King and Queen were absent; in their presence they were obliged to content themselves with signs. Any gentleman was permitted, however, to sing, even in the presence of their Majesties, provided he possessed a fine voice. There were also, occasionally, instrumental concerts, the execution of which was enchanting.
One evening the beautiful Moor was walking in this garden with her friend Donna Elvira. They had scarcely taken two turns before they heard a man singing in so agreeable a strain, that they determined to listen. They concealed themselves behind some orange-trees that grew along the balustrade, directly opposite to the singer, whom they could observe without being seen by him. Elvira was much struck by his handsome appearance, and Daraxa recognized her Ozmin. Seated on a bank of turf, with his head reclining negligently against a tree, he sang the following verses in the Castilian language:—
Wilt thou, stern Jealousy! at once destroy
My life and love, with unrelenting doom?
Why, cruel Fate, this last sad blow employ
To sink me sorrowing to an early tomb?
Absence from her I love hath been the source
Of daily anxious thought, severe to bear;
But now Inconstancy, the Lover’s curse,
Clouds all my hope, and drives me to despair.