Presently, he was seen dragging himself up the rocks, by the aid of a drooping bough; and when he had reached their top, he rested for a moment, still clinging to the branch, as if worn out with toil, as was, indeed, made apparent by the youth and feebleness of his appearance. He cast a haggard and uninterested eye on the romantic torrent leaping and foaming at his feet, and seemed to hesitate whether he should descend into the prison-like enclosure, or retrace his steps, and retreat as he had come. But, suddenly, his gaze fell upon the steed, and he started with surprise at a sight so unexpected. The sagacious animal whinnied loudly, as if with recognition; and the youth, devoutly crossing himself, looked, with an agitation that denoted terror, on the red garment, the cross, and the human figure that still lay sleeping, or, perhaps, as he thought, dead, under its holy shadow. Then, as if resolved, he hastened to descend from the rugged fragments, and seeking where he might safely cross the brook, over the stones that obstructed its bed, he at last stood at the side of the good steed, which snuffed at him a moment with joy, and, then, gambolling about a little, fell to cropping the plants again, satisfied that the comer was a friend.
The youth stole up tremblingly to the side of the sleeper, and seemed shocked at his emaciated and neglected appearance. He stooped as if to awake him, and then started back, wringing his hands, in fear and grief. He bent over him again;—a smile passed like a beam over the countenance of the recluse, and a murmur escaped his lips, of which the youth caught only a few broken syllables:
"Though I shed thy blood," were the words he distinguished, "yet did I not aim at thee; and, therefore, hast thou forgiven me, for the sin was the sin of frenzy. Thou pardonest me, too, Alharef, for thou art, also, of the angels. It is good to walk with thee through the seats of bliss."
A tear fell upon the cheek of the knight Calavar,—for it was, indeed, he; but it fell like the spray-drop, or the gentle dew; and it was not until the hand of the youth touched his shoulder, that he awoke and rose feebly to his feet.
"Whoever thou art," said the unfortunate devotee, "thou breakest the only dream of happiness that hath visited my slumbers, for long and many years, and callest me from the paradise that filled me with bliss, to the earth which is the wheel whereon I am broken—Miserere mei, Deus!"
"Alas, my lord!"
"Art thou sent back to bid me prepare?" cried Don Gabriel, starting wildly, at the voice of the intruder. "Lo! I have flung me off the harness of war, and devoted me to penance in the wilderness, giving my body to sleep on the earth and in caves, drinking of the wild floods, and eating of the tough roots, with the earth-worm; while I sleep, my heart is scourged within me; whilst I wake, I pray,—and I pray that I may sleep for ever. Know, therefore, Jacinto! thou that dwellest in paradise! that I am ready, and that I thank heaven, I am called, at last; for weary has been my life, and long my repentance."
"Alas, my lord, I live like thyself; and I call upon thee, that thou mayest continue to live. I thought, indeed, that thou wert dead, and so thought, and yet think, thy friends,—who are now in great peril."
"God snatched me from the hands of the heathen," said the knight, "and brought me to this place, that I might seek for peace. For, oh! my heart was but filled with scorpions, that stung me day and night, and my head strewn with coals, ever burning and tormenting, whilst I sat in the infidel city, and remembered how he that hath been my son, was slain by murderers in the streets, because he loved me! All that loved me have perished, and (wo betide the hand that struck, and is not yet withered!) two under mine own steel. Yea, Alharef, thou art remembered! and, Zayda, thou art not forgotten! Then came the blow to thee, dear seraph! and thou wert carried off by the angry spirit of Alharef, who defied me at the palace-gate, and, in the temple-yard, raised me to my feet, and bade me think of Zayda. Verily, I remember her, and my heart is black with recollection! Then fell the bolt upon my boy,—he that was matchless in honour and love, peerless in war, incomparable in truth!—Would that the barbarous knives had struck my bosom, instead of thine, Amador! would that thou wert now upon thy gallant bay, shaking thy lance, and shouting the cry of the Hospital, and I in thy place, mouldering in the streets of Mexico! I lay on my couch, whilst thou wert calling to me for aid; I slept while thou wert dying.—Cursed be thy foundations, pagan city! ruin fall upon thy towers, havoc ride howling through thy palaces, and lamentations come up from thy lakes and gardens! for he that was the last and first, the loving and beloved, rots like a dog upon thy pavement!"
"Noble and dear master," said Jacinto, "in this, at least, thou art mistaken. My dear lord, thy kinsman, perished not that day in the streets; for I myself did watch by his sick couch, and see him, after thou hadst departed, return in safety to the palace."