Let us return to the ladies. Elvira, persuaded that it was not usual to love merely for the sake of sighing, and that there must be an end to every thing, resolved to be united to her dear Don Jaymé, who appeared so worthy to possess her. But she felt considerable hesitation and trouble in being the first to make such a proposal. It was a step that revolted against propriety too much for her to think of. She reflected that it would be much preferable to avail herself of the assistance and mediation of her friend, by whom she considered herself sufficiently beloved, to expect her service on such an occasion. She addressed herself, therefore, to Daraxa, and besought her, in the strongest terms, to undertake her cause for her.
Daraxa was now truly grieved; for she found that Elvira would willingly consent to elope, and actually meditated a clandestine marriage. Having, however, somewhat recovered herself, she said to her friend, “I am disposed to do what you desire; but before I speak to Don Jaymé, my real friendship will not permit me to dispense with this question: whether you have well reflected on what you are daring to venture upon? No, no,” added she, “you cannot have considered into how many troubles you must infallibly plunge yourself. Suffer me to point out to you what you owe to your family, as well as to yourself. You are willing to put yourself in the power of a man of whom you know neither the birth nor fortune. Can you, with any sort of prudence, rely on him so entirely as to make such advances to him as are by no means suitable, under any circumstances, to one of your noble birth? and if, unfortunately, as is not impossible, these advances be not received agreeable to your wishes, what shame and regret must follow so indiscreet a line of conduct!”
Judicious as these remonstrances were, Elvira only heard them with impatience; and not being able to answer them with any good reasons, she replied as one resolved, that her excessive love would permit her to follow no other counsels than those of her own heart. When Daraxa saw that there was no hope of diverting her from her design, she no longer opposed her, but promised that she would make proposals to Don Jaymé that very night. But she was somewhat discomposed when Elvira, either from mistrust or wishing to have so good an opportunity of forming her own opinion of the sentiments of the beloved object, said, that she wished to be present herself, unknown to that cavalier, during the conversation, and that she would conceal herself behind the curtain. Nothing was now wanting but to desire Ambrosio to repair to the window of the lower gallery at midnight, which the ladies requested by a letter which they wrote to him in common, in which they sent him word that they had something of the utmost importance to communicate.
He failed not to be there at the hour appointed, and was much surprised to find Daraxa there alone. “Signor Don Jaymé,” said Daraxa, “I have, in the first place, some ill news to tell you, which is, that I am here alone. Your mistress wished me to have a private conversation with you, on which depend her happiness and your own.” After this preface, the cunning Moor glided her hand through the iron bars and pressed that of Ozmin, who understood immediately that this interview was not without mystery. Such was his quickness of penetration that he made a very shrewd guess of what was the subject; and no sooner had Daraxa entered upon the delicate proposals she had to make to him, than he knew well what would follow; but, so far from being discomposed by it, he turned every thing into raillery that was said or proposed to him. In vain did Daraxa protest that she was speaking seriously, requesting him to answer in the same serious manner; he still continued his tone of raillery throughout.
Thus terminated this interview, to the satisfaction of Daraxa, who rejoiced sincerely that it had ended in this manner, and who, thinking that she had done her part, expected some acknowledgments from her friend. But Elvira was more inclined to reproach than to compliment her. In her ill humour she imputed to Daraxa all Don Jaymé’s ridicule, whence she inferred that it was most imprudent to act by proxy in love, when able to conduct one’s own cause, and made a vow that in future she would trust her affairs to nobody, but use every means in her power to induce Don Jaymé to elope with her.
She behaved to Daraxa the next morning in the same manner as usual. They met without even mentioning what had passed the preceding evening, and took their usual walk together in the evening, concealing from each other their true sentiments, each occupied by her own meditations.
I have already told you that Don Rodrigo had discovered in Ambrosio a man whom he thought likely to promote his interest with Daraxa, who had hitherto only treated his professions of love with indifference. The coldness of his constitution, however, was such, that this did not by any means discourage him; not susceptible of violent love, the little progress that he made in Daraxa’s favour caused him no trouble. The advantage he possessed over his rivals, in seeing and conversing with the beautiful Moor, was a pleasure that consoled him, though he knew he was not the favoured lover. As he had not as yet acknowledged his sentiments to Daraxa, otherwise than by any little attentions he had paid her, and perceiving that she took pleasure in speaking the Moorish language with Ambrosio, he determined to prevail upon this gardener to declare his passion for her in that language; and Ambrosio accepted the commission, promising his young master to perform it with all imaginable zeal the first opportunity that should present itself, which occurred the very same day.
The ladies, after having taken several turns about the garden, entered the arbour in which they usually rested themselves. Ambrosio came up to them with a basket of flowers; and Don Rodrigo desired him to make up some nosegays, and at the same time made sign to Elvira to follow him, as though he had something particular to communicate to her. The brother and sister having left the arbour, Ozmin, finding himself alone with his mistress, was beginning to speak to her in a tone of pleasantry in favour of Don Rodrigo’s passion; but he perceived her melancholy appearance and desisted. “Whence this sorrow, Madam?” said he, with a countenance that betrayed his concern. “How happens it, that when I am about to divert you by the performance of a part but little dissimilar to that which you enacted towards me last night, I find you thus evidently affected with grief?” A sigh from Daraxa was the only answer. This redoubled Ozmin’s surprise and anxiety. “Speak,” cried he, “speak to me, Daraxa, if you wish not to drive me to despair. What can your silence and that sigh portend? They seem to announce more misfortunes than I have as yet had any reason to fear.” The beautiful Moor at length replied, that the peculiarity of their fortunes, and the daily crosses they both met with, occasioned a sadness which she could not shake off.
Ozmin endeavoured to soothe her by representing that her courage ought not to forsake her now, after having hitherto borne their misfortunes with firmness; and assured her that he was much mortified in having been obliged to shew some sort of complacency for Elvira’s blind passion for him. He had no sooner uttered these words, than Daraxa burst into tears, and said, in a voice frequently interrupted by violent sobbings, “that alone, alas! overcomes my firmness, which is proof against all other persecutions. What torment for a tender and delicate heart, to be incessantly exposed to what is most likely to rend it in twain! Perhaps I may, ere long, reproach myself for having had too great a confidence in your fidelity.”
“Can I understand you rightly?” replied Ozmin, much affected: “you think me capable of loving another: ah! Daraxa, can you, who know my heart, do me such an injustice? you, who so well know my virtuous sentiments as well as my abhorrence of infidelity.” “I would willingly believe,” answered Daraxa, wiping away her tears, “that I am to blame for being thus mistrustful; but I love you, Ozmin, and I cannot reflect without pain on your attentions to Elvira: you would not have gone so far, had they been equally painful to you. When I consider their effects, I am still more alarmed; Elvira is more positive than ever that she shall overcome your resistance by her perseverance. How then can I feel convinced that you will not at last be wrought upon by her excessive passion?” “I!” cried Ozmin, with transport; “be assured that....” Here he was interrupted by Elvira, who at that instant ran hastily into the arbour; and her brother joined them the next moment.