Ozmin did not expect them so soon, considering that Don Rodrigo would have amused his sister much longer, under pretence of his wishing to speak to her on some important business. Don Rodrigo had fully intended this, but was unable to detain Elvira, who suddenly started from him, for the purpose of interrupting Daraxa’s conversation with Don Jaymé. The dumb scene that passed between these four persons gave rise to many thoughts. Don Rodrigo and his sister observed that Daraxa appeared much dejected; they even thought that she must have been crying, upon which they each formed different opinions. As for Ozmin, as he had nothing more to do in the arbour, and as he only personated Ambrosio, it was easy for him to escape from this awkward situation by retiring.
Don Rodrigo quickly followed him, and full of impatience to learn what had passed between him and Daraxa, whom he began to suspect strongly of some extraordinary understanding together, he asked him whether he had acquitted himself of his commission, and whether he had any good tidings to communicate. “My Lord,” answered Ambrosio, “you allowed me so short a time to converse with the beautiful Moor, that it has not been possible for me to render you any important service.” “I grant,” replied Don Rodrigo, “that you cannot have had a very long discourse with her, but you must needs have made good use of that time; since Daraxa appears to be so much moved by what you have imparted to her, that I am well convinced she must even have been shedding tears.” “Those tears,” replied the false gardener, “may possibly have been the bitter fruits of the liberty I took in speaking to her of your passion, with which she was perhaps not well pleased.”
“Have you no better reasons than these to tell me?” cried Don Rodrigo. “No, my Lord,” said Ambrosio; “I shall merely add that this lady’s heart may probably be already engaged. A young lady who has been educated in so gallant a Court as that of Granada may, very likely, have become sensible to the sighs of some nobleman of that country.” “I agree with you,” replied the jealous Don Rodrigo sharply; “and, moreover, I think your object in being here is less to serve me than that happy rival.” “You do me an injustice,” replied the gardener; “you wrong me much by suspecting that I would betray you for an Infidel.” “Infidel or Christian,” cried Don Rodrigo imperatively; “I begin to suspect you; you are rather too wise for a gardener; and when I call to mind all your interesting little Moorish discourses together, I am the more confirmed in my suspicions. But look to it,” added he in a menacing tone; “you are in a family where knaveries are not long concealed.” Having thus said, he returned to the arbour to the ladies, who still preserved the most profound silence. No sooner had he arrived, than they rose and retired to their own apartments.
Don Rodrigo, who at that time felt no desire to enter into conversation with them, allowed them to depart without any observation, and walked round the garden alone. Soon after this he met his father, who was diverting himself with looking over his flowers, and he stopped to bear him company. Don Lewis was speaking to Ambrosio, professing himself well satisfied with his attention and skill in the culture of his flowers. “He is possibly more skilful than is to be wished,” said Don Rodrigo, with an affected grin; “and, if I am not deceived, understands more than one employment.” The old Marquis, whose attention was entirely engrossed in looking over his parterre, did not at first comprehend the meaning of his son’s remark, and answered, without reflection, “It is true that Ambrosio is not deficient in sense, and I am convinced that I shall find him a very useful servant.” “I very much doubt that he is here with that intention,” replied Don Rodrigo; “at least I am persuaded that others will have better reason than you to be satisfied with his services. Shall I tell you my sentiments? I am of opinion that he is more devoted to Daraxa’s interests than to your’s; or at least that he is the agent of some one of that lady’s lovers.”
“Ah! my son,” interrupted Don Lewis laughing heartily, “I am now convinced that you are really in love.” “If I am,” said Don Rodrigo, “I can assure you that my love assists me to see instead of blinding me. I can believe my own eyesight.” “What have you seen then?” cried the old man; “tell me distinctly: for you shall find that I am Don Lewis de Padilla, son of Don Gaspar, who was reckoned the most difficult to be deceived among men in the age in which he lived; and I also have had the honour to be told a hundred times that I am even more prudent and circumspect than my father. If the choice that the Queen made of me to take charge of the beautiful Moor is not sufficient to make you easy upon this subject, inquire of the wisest persons at Court, whether I am a man to be imposed on. In a word, son, I am turned of fifty; and if, when I was only half that age, they had brought me not merely an Arragonian, but even the most cunning fellow among the Greeks, it would only have been necessary for me to look at him attentively for one moment to have penetrated the inmost recesses of his soul.”
“My Lord,” replied Don Rodrigo, “no one on earth is more persuaded than I am of the truth of what you say; but yet I cannot but think that this Ambrosio only serves you to have the means of making himself useful to another. He makes himself too familiar with Daraxa; as soon as he sees her he addresses her in the Moorish language, which she always answers in so complaisant a manner that I am convinced they have been long acquainted. In short, I would not swear but that Ambrosio is any thing rather than a gardener.” Don Lewis, instead of allowing that he could possibly have been deceived on this occasion, became enraged with spite at seeing himself suspected of having been made a dupe of. “You are a strange man!” said he to his son. “Why did you allow these liberties of which you complain? Do you not know that it is a capital crime among us for a servant to lift his eyes towards his mistress? Do you but treat this servant like the rest, and I will be answerable for his fidelity. In regard to Daraxa, trust me to take proper care of her. Rest in peace; I am on the watch night and day, and am well informed of every thing that passes in the family.” Respect kept Don Rodrigo silent, who quitted his father shortly after this, to wait on some one who desired to speak to him.
After he had left him, the old Marquis, in spite of what he had been just saying, fell into a deep musing, and a thousand vexatious reflections occurred to him, which filled his mind with suspicions. To complete his present troubles his chief gardener came up to him and said, “My Lord, I have something of importance to communicate to you. I heard such a noise in the garden last night, that I am convinced there were several people round your house. Had I dared to have quitted my own, contrary to your orders, I should be better able to tell you more on the subject.” “People in my garden at night!” cried Don Lewis astonished; “they must have come from your lodge then.” “No, my Lord,” answered the master gardener; “Ambrosio and my servant have not the power of leaving the house, the door of which I am most particular in shutting every night, and never trust the key out of my own hands.”
The old Marquis knew not what to think. “Who can have entered my garden?” said he to himself; “and what motives can they have had? I am in no fear of thieves; the height of the wall is sufficient to deter them. I cannot imagine it to be one of Daraxa’s lovers, who surely could not be so fool-hardy as to expose himself to so great danger for the sake of merely seeing her from a window. My gardener must certainly have fancied all this, or the noise must have proceeded from some of my own servants. If I have reason to suspect any one, it is that knave Ambrosio, in respect of whom my son may be more in the right than I chose to allow.”
Don Lewis, who was very uneasy under these thoughts, ordered his gardener not to mention a syllable of the matter either to Ambrosio or his other servant, but to keep a strict watch that very night; and if they chanced to hear any more noise, to discharge a musket, and sally out at the same time well armed. “For my own part,” added the Marquis, “I shall myself, with the rest of my servants, be also prepared; and the wretches who wish either to rob or dishonour me, will be cunning indeed if they escape us all.” After having thus issued his orders, he withdrew to prepare for the mighty feat that he contemplated.
If the two ladies, Don Lewis, and Don Rodrigo, were thus uneasy, Ozmin was not without his share. He was not one who was easily alarmed; but his rival’s last words to him seemed to deserve some attention, in order to prevent, if possible, any ill that might accrue to him. He had no weapon but a poniard, with which it was not possible to defend himself against thirty servants that were employed in the family, should they attempt to attack him. From what he observed, he felt convinced that some misfortune was at hand: he had seen the two Padillas speaking together with earnestness, and had afterwards remarked the serious conversation between Don Lewis and the chief gardener. From all these circumstances he did not doubt that he was the subject of their discourse; so that, foreseeing that some cowardly and wicked attempt upon his life was to be dreaded, he resolved to leave the place as soon as he had communicated his intention to Daraxa, and concerted measures with her to see each other again at the Queen’s return.