"Never?" murmured the mild voice of the Moorish lady: "Heaven be praised!—But, sometimes, when thou lookest upon the sports of our little brother Rosario, it seems to me, thou dost forget us."
"I vow to thee, my honoured and beloved lady," said the hidalgo, earnestly, "and, if thou wilt believe me the rather for that, I swear by the bright eyes of my young boy, that, since I discovered thou wert alive, and, especially, since thou hast been mine own Zayda, I have come to look with new eyes upon those things, which were the joys of my youth. Let us sit down upon this mossy stone; and, while we gaze a little upon Rosario, who, thou seest, is hacking the wooden Turk's-head on the knoll—Thou knowest, he did so gash my young plantations of olive-trees, that I was enforced to allow him this block, for his recreation——While we thus regard him, (for, of a truth, he is a most gallant boy, and of soldierly bearing,) I will discourse to thee in such manner, as to convince thee that I have utterly weeded from my bosom the foul plants of ambition, and that I am equally solicitous to cleanse the breast of my brother.—Hah! by my faith, what now?—Seest thou yonder ill-looking, lurking knave? I doubt me, he has been robbing my vineyard.—May I die, but the young varlet doth advance his sword against him! Well done, sir Hector!—And he knows not I am near, to give him aidance!—What ho, sirrah Rosario! put up thy sword—This is no robber."
"It is a pilgrim—some poor pilgrim," exclaimed the lady:—"Rosario gives him his hand, and leads him towards us."
It was even as the fair Doña had said. The youth Rosario, who had, at first, advanced valiantly towards the stranger, as if to question his right to walk so near the castle, was now seen to sink his weapon, speak a word or two to the comer, and then give him his hand, as if to conduct him to the cavalier.
As they approached, Don Amador could perceive that the stranger had robed his figure in a cloak of the humblest texture; he was barefooted; he held a staff in his hand; and his great slouched hat was adorned with scallop-shells. He seemed a palmer, who had performed a long and painful pilgrimage; for, though obviously a young man, his frame was wasted, his beard long and haggard, and his cheeks were very thin and pale.
"By my faith," said Don Amador, "this palmer hath speedily won the heart of my brother; for, thou seest, Rosario doth look into his face, as though he had got him the hand of some great knight from Judea.—I welcome you with peace and good-will, señor pilgrim; and my gates are open to you.—Art thou from Compostella or Loretto? Or, perhaps, thou comest even from the Holy Land?"
While the cavalier spoke, the Moorish lady surveyed the features of the pilgrim with a surprise and agitation which drew the attention of Don Amador; but before he could speak, the pilgrim replied:
"Not from the Holy Land, but from a land accurst,—from death and the grave, from the depths of the heathen lake and the maws of Mexicans——"
At these words, the lady screamed, and Don Amador himself started aghast, as he listened to the voice of the speaker.
"In the name of God, amen!" he cried, recoiling a step; "I know thy voice, and I saw thee perish!"