“The young lady has not professed yet?” asked Carvalho.
“No, senhor; some months must yet elapse before she takes the final vows,” said the father.
“It were better she abandoned her project,” observed the Minister. “It is one few young ladies so lovely as she is follow willingly; and remember, Senhor Christovaö, the King has determined to allow the inclinations of no lady of this realm to be forced in that respect—I must see to it.”
“I require no one to dictate to me how I am to dispose of my daughter,” answered the fidalgo, haughtily.
“Your pardon, my dear sir,” returned the Minister.
“Present my duty to the King,” said the fidalgo, taking his leave.
“I will not forget you, Senhor Christovaö,” said the Minister, bowing him out.
“Haughty fool!” he muttered, as he returned to his seat. “Dearly shall you rue your insolence. Sebastiaö Jozé de Carvalho never forgets his friends or his foes.”
Several weeks passed tranquilly away, so tranquilly that men began to suppose they had mistaken the character of the Prime Minister, and that, weary of bloodshed and severity, his government was to be henceforth one of mildness and conciliation. The larger number were loud in their praise of the great man; favours which had long been sought for were now granted, promises were made to others, even his former enemies appeared forgiven; the Duke of Aveiro, among others, requested leave to retire to his country seat at Azeitaö, and permission was instantly given him to do so. Some few suspected, it is true, that this mild behaviour was like the treacherous calm before the hurricane; but they were cautious, and uttered not their opinion.