Then Diego’s soul became possessed with courage. He went up to the Queen’s chair and, kneeling on one knee, said:
“Will your Majesty pardon me for what I am about to ask? May I go with that messenger to La Rabida? My father gave his word that unless driven elsewhere by stress of weather he would make his first landing in Spain at the port of Palos. I saw him depart, my Queen, and a voice like the voice of God spoke in my heart, saying, ‘He will return with immortal glory.’ His first thought next his sovereigns will be for his sons, for me and my little brother. If my father lands at Palos and I am not there, it will give him a pang, for my father loves his children with all his heart. May I go, my Queen? Oh, let me go, let me go, my Queen!”
Diego, in his eagerness, had laid his hand upon the Queen’s robe. Her eyes, ever kind, grew more kindly; but while maintaining her own authority well she never forgot the authority of others. She turned to the Duke and said, smiling:
“My Lord Duke, can you spare this young man from his duties and studies for a little while. It is an occasion which so far has never arisen but this once in the life of a royal page.”
“If your Majesty requests it,” replied the Duke, “leave shall be given to Don Diego, and I agree with your Majesty that the occasion is so great that Don Diego may well be excused.”
Diego, overjoyed, kissed the Queen’s hand and thanked the Duke. The Queen nodded by way of dismissal. It was then obviously time for Diego to retire; but he stood irresolutely glancing toward the door, but apparently unwilling to leave. He looked imploringly at Doña Christina, who, smiling, went toward him. The next moment the Duke smiled and the Queen laughed outright as they heard Diego say to Doña Christina, in a loud whisper:
“Oh, how much would Don Felipe like to see the caravel come in!”
“I am sure he would,” responded Don Felipe’s mother, amused at Diego’s straight-forward simplicity.
Then Diego, looking around and seeing only smiling faces, went and knelt before the Queen.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “together Don Felipe and I saw the caravel depart. Don Felipe believed in my father as much as I do, and if he had not we should not have been like brothers, but we should have fought like tigers. Don Felipe was ever good to me from the beginning. He was a grandee of Spain, and I was the son of a poor Genoese navigator; but Don Felipe never let me feel the difference between us. He has ever been the best of friends and comrades to me, and now for me to see the caravel come in and Don Felipe not to—”