“Only one word more,” said Aben-Hamet, with constantly increasing emotion; “we knew not in our exile that the Bivars had the title of Santa Fé, and it was this which was the cause of my error.”
“It was on the same Bivar,” answered Don Carlos, “who conquered the Abencerrages, that this title was conferred by Ferdinand the Catholic.”
The head of Aben-Hamet declined upon his bosom; he remained standing in the midst of Don Carlos, Lautrec and Blanca, who looked at him with astonishment. Two floods of tears gushed from his eyes upon the poniard which was fastened to his girdle. “Pardon me,” he said, “men ought not, I know, to shed tears; from this time mine will no longer flow externally, although I have many more to shed: listen to me.
“Blanca! my love for thee equals the ardour of the burning winds of Arabia. I was conquered: I could no longer live without thee. Yesterday the sight of this French knight at his prayers, and thy words in the cemetery of the temple, had made me resolve to know thy God, and to pledge thee my faith.”
A movement of joy from Blanca, and of surprise from Don Carlos, interrupted Aben-Hamet; Lautrec covered his face with both hands. The Moor divined his thoughts, and shaking his head with an agonizing smile said, “Knight, lose not all hope; as to thee, Blanca, weep for ever over the last of the Abencerrages.”
Blanca, Don Carlos and Lautrec all three lifted up their hands to heaven, and exclaimed, “The last of the Abencerrages!”
There was a moment of silence; fear, hope, hatred, love, astonishment and jealousy agitated their different hearts: Blanca shortly fell upon her knees: “Gracious God!” she said, “thou hast justified my choice; I could only love the descendant of heroes!”
“Sister!” said the irritated Don Carlos, “you forget that you are here in the presence of Lautrec.”
“Don Carlos,” said Aben-Hamet, “suspend thy wrath: it is my business to restore thee to repose.” Then, addressing himself to Blanca, who had again taken her seat:
“Houri of heaven, Genie of love and of beauty, Aben-Hamet will be thy slave to his latest breath; but hear the full extent of his misfortune. The old man who was immolated by thy ancestor, while defending his home, was the father of my father; learn also a secret which I concealed from thee, or rather which thou madest me forget. When I came for the first time to visit this sorrowful country, my first object was to find out some descendant of the Bivars whom I might call to account for the blood which his fathers had shed.”