"Pardon me, noble patron!" said the pilgrim, hastily; "I spoke but in figures; and therein I spoke not amiss, since I perceived that my noble lord looked upon me as one that was dead. Alas, señor, I live—I am your honour's poor ward and secretary, Fabueno."
"Fabueno!" cried the cavalier, recovering himself a little: "If thou livest, thou liest; for Lorenzo is dead!"
"Hast thou been lying, then, thou knave?" cried Rosario, with much indignation. "I will knock the cockles from thy cap; for thou saidst, thou hadst fought with the great Cortes, among the Indians!"
"Alas, señor!" cried Lorenzo, "will you still think me dead? Have sorrow and misery so changed me, that your noble goodness cannot see, in this broken frame and this withered visage, your poor follower, Fabueno?"
"By my troth, I am amazed! This hand is flesh and blood; this darkened brow and weeping eye—Pho! Look upon him, Zayda!—Thou livest, then?—God be praised! And thou sheddest tears, too? Never believe me, but I am rejoiced to see thee; and thou shalt dwell with me, till thy dying day—Heaven be thanked!—By what miracle wert thou revived, after being both killed and drowned? I'faith, thou didst greatly shock my lady.—'Tis wondrous, how soon she knew thee!"
"Knew me?" exclaimed the secretary, gazing with a bewildered eye upon the lady.
"Why, dost thou forget," cried the cavalier, catching the hand of Leila, over whose brow a faint colour rose at the remembrance,—"dost thou forget my dear and beloved page, Jacinto?"
"Alas, madam," said Lorenzo, bending to the earth, "nothing but my confusion could have made me so blind; and this is more wondrous, too, since his excellency, Don Hernan, had made me acquainted with the happiness of my lord."
"Speakest thou of Don Hernan?" cried the cavalier. "By my troth, I have an hundred thousand questions to ask thee; and I know not which to demand first. But thine own reappearance is so marvellous, that I must first question thee of that; and, afterward, thou shall speak to me of Don Hernan. How wert thou fished up?"
"Fished up, señor!" said Lorenzo, sadly; "I know not well what your favour means. At that moment of distraction and horror," he went on, with a shudder, "when I called to you for succour——"