Chapter V: Part 5

Don Rodrigo, who frequently amused himself by conversing with Ambrosio, was so much pleased with his good sense and wit, which Ozmin could not entirely conceal, that he thought he might make use of him to assist his pretensions to Daraxa, and for this purpose admitted him more into his confidence. He was now, therefore, the first to call him, without even asking the ladies’ permission, allowed him to take a part in the conversation, and was pleased to hear him talk in the Moorish language with Daraxa. The happy Ambrosio, having become thus familiar with his young master, never saw him enter the garden with the ladies but he ran and joined them without ceremony; or if by chance he failed of doing it, Donna Elvira went herself to look for him, and never returned without him. Don Rodrigo, who was fully occupied with his own affairs, never took any notice of these little inconsistencies, not in the least imagining that his sister could fall in love with a servant. If, however, Elvira only beheld Don Jaymé in Ambrosio, Daraxa beheld Ozmin in Don Jaymé; every fresh proof, therefore, of her friend’s violent passion for him, increased the uneasiness of this jealous Moor.

While all these things were going on at Don Lewis’s, the young Don Alonso de Zuniga, more enamoured than ever, and being recovered of his wound, began to get abroad again. He had heard that his mistress had been entrusted by the Queen to Don Lewis’s care, with the greatest regret, as well from his natural aversion for Don Rodrigo, as from a jealousy of long standing between their families. Notwithstanding all this, he felt that it was necessary for his peace of mind to obtain some tidings, and even see her, if it were any way possible. For this purpose, he employed some very able assistants, who won over one of Donna Elvira’s women by means of a certain sum of money paid in advance. This obliging damsel was no other than Claricia whom I have before mentioned to you; who was born for the sole purpose of conducting love intrigues, and was as likely as any one to succeed in cases that she undertook. Don Alonso asked but one piece of service of her for his money, which was, to procure him the pleasure of speaking to Daraxa. Claricia promised wonders; and in the course of conversation she related to him the full particulars of Elvira’s amour with Don Jaymé, who from a nobleman of the city of Arragon had transformed himself into a gardener to shew his excessive love for her.

This story, to which Don Alonso listened with the greatest attention, much surprised him, and he was curious to know the most minute circumstances of it. Of these Claricia was well able to inform him, and she told him every thing that she herself knew on the subject. Thus she was not able to tell him of the share that the beautiful Daraxa had in this adventure. Alonso could not possibly conceive who this Don Jaymé Vivez could be, of whom he had never heard, either at court or in the army. He would willingly have made acquaintance and acted in conjunction with him, to make a party of four, the mistresses of both, as he conceived, being in the same house. This thought gave rise to many others. He reproached himself that he had not been as courageous as Don Jaymé, and also gained admission at Don Lewis’s under some disguise or other, which would have procured him the opportunity of speaking with Daraxa. His imagination grew upon this point, and he amused his mind by forming a thousand designs on the subject.

Let us return to the ladies. Elvira, persuaded that it was not usual to love merely for the sake of sighing, and that there must be an end to every thing, resolved to be united to her dear Don Jaymé, who appeared so worthy to possess her. But she felt considerable hesitation and trouble in being the first to make such a proposal. It was a step that revolted against propriety too much for her to think of. She reflected that it would be much preferable to avail herself of the assistance and mediation of her friend, by whom she considered herself sufficiently beloved, to expect her service on such an occasion. She addressed herself, therefore, to Daraxa, and besought her, in the strongest terms, to undertake her cause for her.

Daraxa was now truly grieved; for she found that Elvira would willingly consent to elope, and actually meditated a clandestine marriage. Having, however, somewhat recovered herself, she said to her friend, “I am disposed to do what you desire; but before I speak to Don Jaymé, my real friendship will not permit me to dispense with this question: whether you have well reflected on what you are daring to venture upon? No, no,” added she, “you cannot have considered into how many troubles you must infallibly plunge yourself. Suffer me to point out to you what you owe to your family, as well as to yourself. You are willing to put yourself in the power of a man of whom you know neither the birth nor fortune. Can you, with any sort of prudence, rely on him so entirely as to make such advances to him as are by no means suitable, under any circumstances, to one of your noble birth? and if, unfortunately, as is not impossible, these advances be not received agreeable to your wishes, what shame and regret must follow so indiscreet a line of conduct!”

Judicious as these remonstrances were, Elvira only heard them with impatience; and not being able to answer them with any good reasons, she replied as one resolved, that her excessive love would permit her to follow no other counsels than those of her own heart. When Daraxa saw that there was no hope of diverting her from her design, she no longer opposed her, but promised that she would make proposals to Don Jaymé that very night. But she was somewhat discomposed when Elvira, either from mistrust or wishing to have so good an opportunity of forming her own opinion of the sentiments of the beloved object, said, that she wished to be present herself, unknown to that cavalier, during the conversation, and that she would conceal herself behind the curtain. Nothing was now wanting but to desire Ambrosio to repair to the window of the lower gallery at midnight, which the ladies requested by a letter which they wrote to him in common, in which they sent him word that they had something of the utmost importance to communicate.

He failed not to be there at the hour appointed, and was much surprised to find Daraxa there alone. “Signor Don Jaymé,” said Daraxa, “I have, in the first place, some ill news to tell you, which is, that I am here alone. Your mistress wished me to have a private conversation with you, on which depend her happiness and your own.” After this preface, the cunning Moor glided her hand through the iron bars and pressed that of Ozmin, who understood immediately that this interview was not without mystery. Such was his quickness of penetration that he made a very shrewd guess of what was the subject; and no sooner had Daraxa entered upon the delicate proposals she had to make to him, than he knew well what would follow; but, so far from being discomposed by it, he turned every thing into raillery that was said or proposed to him. In vain did Daraxa protest that she was speaking seriously, requesting him to answer in the same serious manner; he still continued his tone of raillery throughout.

Thus terminated this interview, to the satisfaction of Daraxa, who rejoiced sincerely that it had ended in this manner, and who, thinking that she had done her part, expected some acknowledgments from her friend. But Elvira was more inclined to reproach than to compliment her. In her ill humour she imputed to Daraxa all Don Jaymé’s ridicule, whence she inferred that it was most imprudent to act by proxy in love, when able to conduct one’s own cause, and made a vow that in future she would trust her affairs to nobody, but use every means in her power to induce Don Jaymé to elope with her.

She behaved to Daraxa the next morning in the same manner as usual. They met without even mentioning what had passed the preceding evening, and took their usual walk together in the evening, concealing from each other their true sentiments, each occupied by her own meditations.

I have already told you that Don Rodrigo had discovered in Ambrosio a man whom he thought likely to promote his interest with Daraxa, who had hitherto only treated his professions of love with indifference. The coldness of his constitution, however, was such, that this did not by any means discourage him; not susceptible of violent love, the little progress that he made in Daraxa’s favour caused him no trouble. The advantage he possessed over his rivals, in seeing and conversing with the beautiful Moor, was a pleasure that consoled him, though he knew he was not the favoured lover. As he had not as yet acknowledged his sentiments to Daraxa, otherwise than by any little attentions he had paid her, and perceiving that she took pleasure in speaking the Moorish language with Ambrosio, he determined to prevail upon this gardener to declare his passion for her in that language; and Ambrosio accepted the commission, promising his young master to perform it with all imaginable zeal the first opportunity that should present itself, which occurred the very same day.

The ladies, after having taken several turns about the garden, entered the arbour in which they usually rested themselves. Ambrosio came up to them with a basket of flowers; and Don Rodrigo desired him to make up some nosegays, and at the same time made sign to Elvira to follow him, as though he had something particular to communicate to her. The brother and sister having left the arbour, Ozmin, finding himself alone with his mistress, was beginning to speak to her in a tone of pleasantry in favour of Don Rodrigo’s passion; but he perceived her melancholy appearance and desisted. “Whence this sorrow, Madam?” said he, with a countenance that betrayed his concern. “How happens it, that when I am about to divert you by the performance of a part but little dissimilar to that which you enacted towards me last night, I find you thus evidently affected with grief?” A sigh from Daraxa was the only answer. This redoubled Ozmin’s surprise and anxiety. “Speak,” cried he, “speak to me, Daraxa, if you wish not to drive me to despair. What can your silence and that sigh portend? They seem to announce more misfortunes than I have as yet had any reason to fear.” The beautiful Moor at length replied, that the peculiarity of their fortunes, and the daily crosses they both met with, occasioned a sadness which she could not shake off.

Ozmin endeavoured to soothe her by representing that her courage ought not to forsake her now, after having hitherto borne their misfortunes with firmness; and assured her that he was much mortified in having been obliged to shew some sort of complacency for Elvira’s blind passion for him. He had no sooner uttered these words, than Daraxa burst into tears, and said, in a voice frequently interrupted by violent sobbings, “that alone, alas! overcomes my firmness, which is proof against all other persecutions. What torment for a tender and delicate heart, to be incessantly exposed to what is most likely to rend it in twain! Perhaps I may, ere long, reproach myself for having had too great a confidence in your fidelity.”

“Can I understand you rightly?” replied Ozmin, much affected: “_you_ think me capable of loving another: ah! Daraxa, can you, who know my heart, do me such an injustice? you, who so well know my virtuous sentiments as well as my abhorrence of infidelity.” “I would willingly believe,” answered Daraxa, wiping away her tears, “that I am to blame for being thus mistrustful; but I love you, Ozmin, and I cannot reflect without pain on your attentions to Elvira: you would not have gone so far, had they been equally painful to you. When I consider their effects, I am still more alarmed; Elvira is more positive than ever that she shall overcome your resistance by her perseverance. How then can I feel convinced that you will not at last be wrought upon by her excessive passion?” “I!” cried Ozmin, with transport; “be assured that....” Here he was interrupted by Elvira, who at that instant ran hastily into the arbour; and her brother joined them the next moment.

Ozmin did not expect them so soon, considering that Don Rodrigo would have amused his sister much longer, under pretence of his wishing to speak to her on some important business. Don Rodrigo had fully intended this, but was unable to detain Elvira, who suddenly started from him, for the purpose of interrupting Daraxa’s conversation with Don Jaymé. The dumb scene that passed between these four persons gave rise to many thoughts. Don Rodrigo and his sister observed that Daraxa appeared much dejected; they even thought that she must have been crying, upon which they each formed different opinions. As for Ozmin, as he had nothing more to do in the arbour, and as he only personated Ambrosio, it was easy for him to escape from this awkward situation by retiring.

Don Rodrigo quickly followed him, and full of impatience to learn what had passed between him and Daraxa, whom he began to suspect strongly of some extraordinary understanding together, he asked him whether he had acquitted himself of his commission, and whether he had any good tidings to communicate. “My Lord,” answered Ambrosio, “you allowed me so short a time to converse with the beautiful Moor, that it has not been possible for me to render you any important service.” “I grant,” replied Don Rodrigo, “that you cannot have had a very long discourse with her, but you must needs have made good use of that time; since Daraxa appears to be so much moved by what you have imparted to her, that I am well convinced she must even have been shedding tears.” “Those tears,” replied the false gardener, “may possibly have been the bitter fruits of the liberty I took in speaking to her of your passion, with which she was perhaps not well pleased.”

“Have you no better reasons than these to tell me?” cried Don Rodrigo. “No, my Lord,” said Ambrosio; “I shall merely add that this lady’s heart may probably be already engaged. A young lady who has been educated in so gallant a Court as that of Granada may, very likely, have become sensible to the sighs of some nobleman of that country.” “I agree with you,” replied the jealous Don Rodrigo sharply; “and, moreover, I think your object in being here is less to serve me than that happy rival.” “You do me an injustice,” replied the gardener; “you wrong me much by suspecting that I would betray you for an Infidel.” “Infidel or Christian,” cried Don Rodrigo imperatively; “I begin to suspect you; you are rather too wise for a gardener; and when I call to mind all your interesting little Moorish discourses together, I am the more confirmed in my suspicions. But look to it,” added he in a menacing tone; “you are in a family where knaveries are not long concealed.” Having thus said, he returned to the arbour to the ladies, who still preserved the most profound silence. No sooner had he arrived, than they rose and retired to their own apartments.

Don Rodrigo, who at that time felt no desire to enter into conversation with them, allowed them to depart without any observation, and walked round the garden alone. Soon after this he met his father, who was diverting himself with looking over his flowers, and he stopped to bear him company. Don Lewis was speaking to Ambrosio, professing himself well satisfied with his attention and skill in the culture of his flowers. “He is possibly more skilful than is to be wished,” said Don Rodrigo, with an affected grin; “and, if I am not deceived, understands more than one employment.” The old Marquis, whose attention was entirely engrossed in looking over his parterre, did not at first comprehend the meaning of his son’s remark, and answered, without reflection, “It is true that Ambrosio is not deficient in sense, and I am convinced that I shall find him a very useful servant.” “I very much doubt that he is here with that intention,” replied Don Rodrigo; “at least I am persuaded that others will have better reason than you to be satisfied with his services. Shall I tell you my sentiments? I am of opinion that he is more devoted to Daraxa’s interests than to your’s; or at least that he is the agent of some one of that lady’s lovers.”

“Ah! my son,” interrupted Don Lewis laughing heartily, “I am now convinced that you are really in love.” “If I am,” said Don Rodrigo, “I can assure you that my love assists me to see instead of blinding me. I can believe my own eyesight.” “What have you seen then?” cried the old man; “tell me distinctly: for you shall find that I am Don Lewis de Padilla, son of Don Gaspar, who was reckoned the most difficult to be deceived among men in the age in which he lived; and I also have had the honour to be told a hundred times that I am even more prudent and circumspect than my father. If the choice that the Queen made of me to take charge of the beautiful Moor is not sufficient to make you easy upon this subject, inquire of the wisest persons at Court, whether I am a man to be imposed on. In a word, son, I am turned of fifty; and if, when I was only half that age, they had brought me not merely an Arragonian, but even the most cunning fellow among the Greeks, it would only have been necessary for me to look at him attentively for one moment to have penetrated the inmost recesses of his soul.”

“My Lord,” replied Don Rodrigo, “no one on earth is more persuaded than I am of the truth of what you say; but yet I cannot but think that this Ambrosio only serves you to have the means of making himself useful to another. He makes himself too familiar with Daraxa; as soon as he sees her he addresses her in the Moorish language, which she always answers in so complaisant a manner that I am convinced they have been long acquainted. In short, I would not swear but that Ambrosio is any thing rather than a gardener.” Don Lewis, instead of allowing that he could possibly have been deceived on this occasion, became enraged with spite at seeing himself suspected of having been made a dupe of. “You are a strange man!” said he to his son. “Why did you allow these liberties of which you complain? Do you not know that it is a capital crime among us for a servant to lift his eyes towards his mistress? Do you but treat this servant like the rest, and I will be answerable for his fidelity. In regard to Daraxa, trust me to take proper care of her. Rest in peace; I am on the watch night and day, and am well informed of every thing that passes in the family.” Respect kept Don Rodrigo silent, who quitted his father shortly after this, to wait on some one who desired to speak to him.

After he had left him, the old Marquis, in spite of what he had been just saying, fell into a deep musing, and a thousand vexatious reflections occurred to him, which filled his mind with suspicions. To complete his present troubles his chief gardener came up to him and said, “My Lord, I have something of importance to communicate to you. I heard such a noise in the garden last night, that I am convinced there were several people round your house. Had I dared to have quitted my own, contrary to your orders, I should be better able to tell you more on the subject.” “People in my garden at night!” cried Don Lewis astonished; “they must have come from your lodge then.” “No, my Lord,” answered the master gardener; “Ambrosio and my servant have not the power of leaving the house, the door of which I am most particular in shutting every night, and never trust the key out of my own hands.”

The old Marquis knew not what to think. “Who can have entered my garden?” said he to himself; “and what motives can they have had? I am in no fear of thieves; the height of the wall is sufficient to deter them. I cannot imagine it to be one of Daraxa’s lovers, who surely could not be so fool-hardy as to expose himself to so great danger for the sake of merely seeing her from a window. My gardener must certainly have fancied all this, or the noise must have proceeded from some of my own servants. If I have reason to suspect any one, it is that knave Ambrosio, in respect of whom my son may be more in the right than I chose to allow.”

Don Lewis, who was very uneasy under these thoughts, ordered his gardener not to mention a syllable of the matter either to Ambrosio or his other servant, but to keep a strict watch that very night; and if they chanced to hear any more noise, to discharge a musket, and sally out at the same time well armed. “For my own part,” added the Marquis, “I shall myself, with the rest of my servants, be also prepared; and the wretches who wish either to rob or dishonour me, will be cunning indeed if they escape us all.” After having thus issued his orders, he withdrew to prepare for the mighty feat that he contemplated.

If the two ladies, Don Lewis, and Don Rodrigo, were thus uneasy, Ozmin was not without his share. He was not one who was easily alarmed; but his rival’s last words to him seemed to deserve some attention, in order to prevent, if possible, any ill that might accrue to him. He had no weapon but a poniard, with which it was not possible to defend himself against thirty servants that were employed in the family, should they attempt to attack him. From what he observed, he felt convinced that some misfortune was at hand: he had seen the two Padillas speaking together with earnestness, and had afterwards remarked the serious conversation between Don Lewis and the chief gardener. From all these circumstances he did not doubt that he was the subject of their discourse; so that, foreseeing that some cowardly and wicked attempt upon his life was to be dreaded, he resolved to leave the place as soon as he had communicated his intention to Daraxa, and concerted measures with her to see each other again at the Queen’s return.

Having formed this resolution, he walked towards the place where the letters from the ladies were usually brought, and found one lying there from Elvira, who sent him word that she should expect to see him that night, as she had something very particular to impart to him. He little thought that Elvira appointed this interview with him unknown to the beautiful Moor, to have the opportunity of conversing with him in private. He conceived that Daraxa would also be there as usual, and that he might communicate to her in their own language, even in the presence of her friend, what he wished her to know previous to their separation. But let us leave Ozmin until the time appointed for this interview, and return to notice the alarming preparations that were making by Don Lewis to interrupt it.

He caused all the arms, offensive and defensive, that could be found in the house, to be carried by two faithful domestics into his own apartment, such as muskets, musketoons, pistols, halberts, pikes, partizans, helmets, and targets; the whole of them covered with rust; but the danger was too near at hand to think of having them cleaned. One would have thought, from the active and terrible preparations that were going forward, that it was at least apprehended that the enemy was advancing to take the house by assault; for though Don Lewis had never been himself in the wars, yet, being son and grandson to general officers, he would not have it said that he knew nothing of the matter. He dispatched one of his most trusty servants to purchase powder and ball sufficient to load about seventeen or eighteen fire-arms, which he designed to entrust to some of the bravest of his domestics. All these preparations were made without any noise, being aware that great undertakings required secrecy. Every thing was so well conducted, that he even managed to conceal his designs from his son and daughter, on account of their affection for Daraxa, who had not the least suspicion of what was going forward.

When he had thus arranged everything agreeably to his desire, and the clock had struck eleven, his two confidential servants brought up all the other domestics, whom he posted in different places, distributing the arms among them according as he judged each able to make use of them. He disposed of the greater part of them in the highest rooms in the house, whence they commanded a view of the garden, and were themselves out of sight; and he forbade them from firing without first apprising him of whatever they might see. He placed himself in a closet directly opposite Daraxa’s chamber, choosing this post for himself as one that particularly required his immediate vigilance and attention. He was accompanied by his equerry, an old servant, whose bravery was equal to his master’s, and who, from the bottom of his heart, wished all the disturbers of his sleep at the devil. But the die was cast; and, since posted on bivouac duty, they could not now in honour retreat until they had fully ascertained that there was nothing to be feared from the enemy.

The old Marquis, in his night-gown, night-cap, and slippers, with a dark lantern in his hand, was most attentively on the watch at the window. It was one of those clear star-light nights so common in hot countries; from which circumstance they soon discovered the shadow of a man, at the distance of about two hundred paces. No sooner did Don Lewis hear the clock strike twelve, than, recollecting that it was at about that hour his gardener had heard the noise the preceding night, his heart began to beat most violently, and he was seized with a cold shivering in all his limbs. This agitation, which sufficiently betrayed the feelings of his soul in time of danger, was by no means diminished when he thought that he could perceive somebody walking along the wall on the side next the gallery. To be more convinced that he was not mistaken, he pointed to the place that his equerry might also look, and asked him if he saw any thing; but he, either that his sight was really not so good as his master’s, or through fear, persisted in asserting that he saw nothing.

They were both, however, soon released from doubt by two of their sentinels coming up to apprise them that there was a man conversing, at the gallery window, with some person within the house. Don Lewis was the more astonished at this information, having all the keys of the house in his own possession. These were brought to him every night at nine o’clock; so that he could not possibly conceive who it could be that was supporting the conversation either from within or without, but could think of no other but Daraxa, whom one of her lovers must have come to visit at midnight through the assistance of one of the servants that he had bribed to introduce him into the garden, and that she must have procured another key for the gallery door by means of the same agent. This conjecture appeared the most probable. He desired all his followers to be in readiness, and formed the bold design of beginning the expedition himself, by surprising the beautiful Moor, so that she could not deny her crime. It is true, that, not daring to venture alone upon so over-bold a project, he took with him two of the most resolute of his musketeers, and his intrepid equerry before mentioned.

To make as little noise as possible our commander threw off his slippers, and the others their shoes, in which state they arrived at the gallery, the door of which they found open. Don Lewis advanced until he heard the voices; he then made a stand, to listen to what was said, and overheard the following words: “I have too much esteem for you to resolve to make you unhappy: It behoves me to consider your high birth, and you should reflect on the present condition of my fortune. I am a Cavalier who must seek to make my fortune at Court, where I have need of support. Who then would befriend me after having drawn upon myself the hatred of so powerful a lord as your father? let us not, therefore, do any thing of which we may repent as long as we live.”

The Marquis immediately knew the voice of the pretended Ambrosio; and notwithstanding the spite which he felt towards him for having thus duped him, he could not but admire his virtue and prudence on this occasion. Thinking that this discourse was addressed to Daraxa, he was not a little curious to hear her answer. But how was he shocked, when he heard his own daughter, whose voice he could not mistake, reply to the cavalier in these words: “Can love reason thus? have you scrupled to deceive my father by a stratagem which subjects you to many dangers? have you then come hither at the risk of your life, merely to lose such precious time in teaching me my duty? instead of abandoning yourself to the joy with which my favourable sentiments ought to have inspired you, you are the one to throw difficulties in their way: I did not expect so cold an acknowledgement of your gratitude. Can the consideration of fortune withhold you, when I declare that the summit of all my desires is to be your’s? Why need you fear my father? the Court of Ferdinand is not the only Court in which a man of your merit may expect advancement. But may you ever seek in vain to establish yourself advantageously in any Court! Elvira would ever prefer living with you in the most obscure retreat, to the greatest pomp and splendor that can be conferred on her by her union with another.”

She was going on thus, when a musket was discharged, followed in a moment by ten or twelve others, with the reports of which the gallery resounded. This dreadful noise so frightened the daughter of Don Lewis, that thinking of nothing but her fears she immediately betook herself to flight. But her father who had way-laid her in the passage, seizing her suddenly by the arm: “Is it thus,” said he, “wretched girl, that you dishonour the illustrious blood of Padilla?” At the voice and action of the Marquis, Donna Elvira, whose spirits were but too much troubled by the first shock, uttered a piercing shriek, and fell into her father’s arms, who, finding that she remained quite senseless, opened his dark-lantern to look at her, and she seemed to him in so deplorable a condition, that in spite of his anger he was much affected. He really loved her: but not being able to bear the sight any longer without relenting, he left her in the care of his equerry.

But the more he was touched with compassion at the sight of his daughter in such a state, the more eager did he feel to take revenge on the insolent author of all this disorder. He now longed only for Ambrosio’s death, whose prudence he had but a moment before been applauding. He assembled all his men of arms, tucked up his night-gown, over which he put on his armour, a helmet over his night-cap, with a target on his left arm, and a long pike in his right hand; and this brave captain in his slippers and gauntlets, caused the garden gate to be thrown open, through which his troop defiled three abreast: the musketeers marched first, and the halberdeers brought up the rear, followed by the Marquis himself. This little army, composed of soldiers worthy of their captain, went in search of the enemy: during their march they were reinforced by the gardener, who joined them with a small sword at his side, an arquebuse on his shoulder, and two pistols in his belt. He assured them that he had seen the enemy, and that there were two of them, and that if he had dared to have disobeyed his master’s orders, he should have fired upon them. Don Lewis was astonished at this information, and having learnt which way they went, ordered his troop to take that direction.

What had become of Ozmin all this while? As soon as he perceived that Elvira had taken flight at the report of the fire-arms which had interrupted their conversation, and which he found had not been levelled at him, he retreated precipitately from the gallery with the intention of taking shelter in an arbour, where he determined to sell his life dearly, if attacked. But a man who followed close behind him obliged him to stop, saying: “Signor Don Jaymé, you have need of assistance; accept, therefore, of mine: it is you for whom they are searching; accept my services without delay, if you do not wish to be assassinated by a troop of rascally servants, who will shortly rush upon you.”

Ozmin, as much surprised at hearing himself styled Don Jaymé, as at meeting with so obliging a stranger, answered: “I know not who you are, nor why you interest yourself in my behalf; but whoever you be, you cannot but be a Cavalier of great worth: I will request the loan of some of your arms, having but a poniard to defend myself with; but can accept of no other assistance from you, without abusing your extreme kindness. I can by no means suffer so brave a man to expose his life for my sake.” “No, no,” replied the unknown, “do not imagine that I will leave you to perish, when I may render you assistance. I have two good pistols, one of which is at your service, and I will fight at your side; or, if you wish me to retire, you must accompany me.” “I believe,” said Ozmin, “that it will be the wiser way. We shall get no great honour in employing our valour against such rascals. But how can we quit the garden?” “That you shall see,” replied the stranger, “you have only to follow me.”

These two Cavaliers then ran together to that part of the garden where the wall had been repaired, against which was erected a long ladder. They had here some slight difference as to who should first ascend, each yielding the precedence to the other. After many compliments which two such courageous men could not fail to make on such an occasion, Ozmin was prevailed on to ascend first, to complete the noble behaviour of his companion. The _Gendarmerie_ of Don Lewis had taken quite an opposite direction, so that they had abundance of time to get over the wall by means of this ladder, which they drew up after them to prevent the Marquis from ascertaining in what manner the pretended Ambrosio had escaped his fury. On the other side of the wall was another ladder by which they descended into the street, and which was guarded by five or six stout footmen well armed, who had been kept in readiness to throw themselves into the garden on the first signal. Ozmin, judging from this that his generous friend was not a man of common rank, requested to be informed to whom he was so much obliged. But the unknown gentleman answered that he would explain this to him at his house. “As you are a stranger,” added he, “you cannot be aware what sort of a man Don Lewis is, of whom, I assure you, you cannot be too cautious. I make you an offer, therefore, of my house, where you will be secure from his resentment by remaining with me, until we see in what manner the Padillas resolve to prosecute this affair.”

Ozmin was charmed with the generous and noble manner in which this offer was made, and not being able to resist the earnest entreaties of the Cavalier to accept of his house, accompanied him thither. When they beheld each other by the light of the flambeaux, they each looked at the other with an attention mingled with surprise, as if they thought they had met somewhere before. The master of the house was the first to distinguish Ozmin, by an imperfect recollection that he had of his features; and being convinced that he was not mistaken, he cried with transport, embracing him: “what happiness do I experience in thus meeting a man to whom I owe my life! I cannot be mistaken: you must be he who preserved me from the fury of the bull on the last day of the sports.” “My lord,” answered the Moor, smiling with a modest air, “you have now well repaid me for that service in retrieving me from a danger, in which, without your assistance, I must inevitably have perished.” “No, no,” replied Don Alonso de Zuniga, “I am still in arrears with you. At the very time that you rescued me from certain death, I had given you but little cause to expose your own life for the preservation of mine.”

They passed the remainder of the night in conversing together. Don Alonso, who had no doubt that Ozmin was really Don Jaymé Vivez, and that he was enamoured of Donna Elvira, related to him in what manner he had heard of his intrigue. “This made me desire,” added he, “to form an acquaintance with you, to commence which was the object of my entering Don Lewis’s garden to-night. Besides which, as I love Daraxa, the intimate friend of your mistress, I considered that our friendship might become useful to both our loves.”

Although Ozmin felt great repugnance in concealing his real sentiments, he did not wish to undeceive Don Alonso, thinking it more prudent to pass for Don Jaymé. After a long conversation, Zuniga conducted his guest to the apartment that was prepared for him, and leaving him to his rest, retired also to his own. But Ozmin not being able to sleep, sent for Orviedo as soon as it was day, to impart to this faithful servant his last night’s adventure, as well as to desire him to bring him some apparel more suitable than Ambrosio’s to support the character of Don Jaymé.

It is a misfortune to which all great houses that keep a number of servants are liable, that whatever happens cannot long remain a secret. The story of the pretended Ambrosio was known all over the town the very next day, where it was related in various ways; but all at the expence of Donna Elvira; at which Ozmin was extremely mortified.

Don Alonso and Ozmin became in a few days the best friends in the world; sympathy seemed to attach them to each other, or rather, they each made daily discoveries of the other’s amiable qualities. They were both most anxious to know how things went on at the Marquis de Padilla’s. This they could only learn from Claricia, from whom they received no tidings; for this servant, who was known to be most in Elvira’s confidence, was more strictly watched than the others. She managed, however, at length to elude their vigilance, and brought Don Jaymé a letter at Don Alonso’s, containing the detail they so ardently longed for. Claricia informed Vivez that his old patron, enraged that the pretended Ambrosio had escaped his fury, had employed ten or a dozen men to go through Seville in search of him, who till then had sought him in vain: that Elvira was very ill, and that Daraxa had also been much indisposed from the share she took in her friend’s affliction: that, lastly, Don Lewis was so much ashamed and vexed at the whole affair, that he would see nobody, but had made up his mind to retire into the country until all these unpleasant rumors had blown over.

Claricia’s letter was a fresh topic of conversation for the two Cavaliers, and amused Don Alonso exceedingly, who, having no regard for the house of Padilla, was delighted at the recital of this adventure. Ozmin having so good an opportunity of giving some account of himself to Daraxa, wrote her a very long letter in the Moorish language, which he sent by Claricia. Daraxa, who was most anxious on his account, fearing that he had been wounded by the many musket shots which, as she thought, had been fired at him, was overjoyed to hear of his good luck, and that she might now have the means of returning him an answer by the same messenger.

A few days after this, the old Marquis set out with his family and all his servants, for a country house of his own at about a league beyond Seville. This would have proved very vexatious to Ozmin, who feared that by this absence he should be deprived of Claricia, whose mediation was so great an advantage to him, had not Don Alonso consoled him by saying; “we ought to rejoice at Don Lewis’s being in the country. Within about two miles from his house, I have a pretty little seat which I visit occasionally. We have nothing to do but to get there as privately as possible. We shall find it more easy to obtain accounts of our mistresses there, than in this city, and may even find occasional opportunities of seeing and conversing with them.”

Vivez was much pleased with this design, and the two friends left Seville the next morning before day light, accompanied by Orviedo and two footmen only. As soon as they arrived at Don Alonso’s country house, the young lord employed a sharp peasant lad to deliver a letter into Claricia’s own hands, by which she was apprized that the following day she would meet in the wood, which is about two hundred paces from the Marquis’s house, two young shepherds who were dying with desire to have a little chat with her.

Claricia, who was not now so strictly watched as she had been in the city, soon found an opportunity of stealing out of the house, and ran to the place appointed, where she found Don Alonso and Don Jaymé dressed as peasants. She informed them that the ladies were both well, but so completely prisoners, that they were scarcely permitted to walk in the garden. “However,” continued she, “if Don Lewis go to-morrow to a farm of his about three leagues off, on an affair of consequence which requires his presence, I think I may be able to obtain you an interview with them. Don Rodrigo,” added she, “has just set out for Seville, and is not expected back for two days.”

If the Cavaliers were charmed at the flattering prospect that Claricia held out to them, she was equally well pleased with the presents that she received as a recompence for her attention. After having taken leave of them, she returned to the house, and communicated to the ladies the particulars of the conversation she had just had with the young nobleman.

The next morning, every thing seemed propitious to the lovers’ wishes: the Marquis set out for his farm, and the ladies prepared to profit by so favorable an opportunity. They dressed themselves as peasant girls, in conformity with the disguises of their lovers, and left the house attended by Claricia and Laida. They soon reached the wood, where their shepherds were already waiting for them, and met with joyful congratulations at seeing each other again; after which they laughed and amused themselves exceedingly by looking at each other in their several fantastical disguises. Parties of this sort generally create a vast deal of pleasure; but do not always end so pleasantly as they begin.

They were conversing on general subjects, which was rendered more agreeable to each by being with those whom they loved, and were proceeding to penetrate into the more private walks of the grove, when they perceived through the trees two real peasants coming towards them. They conceived them to be inhabitants of a neighbouring town which formed part of the Marquis’s manor, and they were right in their conjecture. As these countrymen passed by, the ladies turned their backs upon them, that they might not see their faces, and Vivez and Zuniga followed their example for the same reason; but the fellows instead of passing on, made a full stand; and one of them gave Don Alonso so furious a blow with a cudgel, upon his back and head, as almost stunned him. Ozmin having heard the blow, turned about instantly upon the other fellow who was preparing to serve him in the same manner; but the Moor, from his excessive quickness, warded off the blow that was intended for his head, so that it slid down his back; after which he struck his adversary so tremendous a blow, with a large stick that he carried, directly on his face, that he broke half his jaw and laid him senseless on the ground: then flew to the assistance of his friend, who stood much in need of it, for he was hard put to it by his antagonist. But this rascal knew better than to await the coming up of a man who had just made his comrade bite the dust; he ran off towards the town, where he put them all in alarm, by giving out that his companion was killed, who, in fact, was only wounded.

During this skirmish, the ladies very prudently took flight, and returned to Don Lewis’s house in the greatest alarm, and most anxious to know how this affair would end. Their uneasiness was not ill-founded; for the Cavaliers, who would have acted wisely in decamping as quickly as possible, remained so long on the scene of action consulting upon what was best to be done, that they afforded sufficient time for three ruffians from the town to rush upon them with drawn swords. One of these fellows, who was superior to the others both in point of appearance and courage, came up before the rest, and advancing towards Ozmin in a most determined manner, endeavoured to run him through the body, but the Moor received the thrust in the most skilful manner with his stick, and returned him so terrible a blow on the head that it laid him lifeless at his feet; then seizing the sword which his enemy had made so bad a use of, he was prepared to receive the two others, who presently attacked him. This combat lasted longer than either that had preceded it. Ozmin being assailed by two men at once, was fully engaged in parrying their several thrusts, one of which wounded him slightly in the hand. Don Alonso did not stand idle all this time, but laid about him so furiously with his stick, that he at length decided the victory, by a chance blow which fell with such force on the right arm of one of their antagonists that he dropped his sword, and immediately fled with his companion towards the town as precipitately as their wounds would admit of.

Our Conquerors, not content with the punishment they had already inflicted, were so imprudent as to pursue them to the very entrance of the town, where they met with a storm which was just ready to burst upon them. All the inhabitants, having heard that a peasant had been killed in the wood, were up in arms, some with cudgels and clubs pointed with iron, and others with old swords, fully determined to avenge his death. Their rage increased, when the two fugitives came up and informed them that the Bailiff’s son had just shared the same fate as the countryman. They advanced in a body, and surrounded the supposed murderers, falling upon them without mercy. Ozmin, whose courage was rather increased than damped by the appearance of so many enemies, opposed their rage most resolutely, dealing his blows on all sides, and overthrowing all that resisted him. This somewhat moderated the fury of the rest. Don Alonso, although wounded, followed his example with equal valor. It was, however, impossible to resist so unequal a force, and he was taken prisoner; soon after which, his friend, whom the mob endeavoured to throw down by hurling their staves between his legs, was unfortunate enough to stumble, and was also secured.

I leave you to judge whether the enraged multitude would have spared these two unfortunate Cavaliers who were now completely at their mercy. But as chance would have it, two gentlemen came up just at that moment on horseback, accompanied by three or four servants, who wishing to know the cause of this tumult, broke through the crowd, sword in hand, until they reached the two prisoners, in one of whom they recognized Don Alonso, notwithstanding his disguise, and though his face was covered with blood, and rescued him, with great difficulty, from the hands of the mob, who in consequence became more careful to secure their other prisoner, against whom they bore the greater malice.

Zuniga, observing this, refused to accompany his deliverers, declaring that he had rather share his friend’s fate than abandon him in this manner. But the two gentlemen represented to him that it were a fruitless attempt to endeavour to release that Cavalier, who was now actually shut up in the Bailiff’s house, who kept all the inhabitants still up in arms, exciting them to avenge his son’s death: that it were wiser, in their opinion, to assemble all the friends that they could get together; and return in the night to release him from prison. Don Alonso yielded to this advice, and was soon assured of the assistance of above forty persons, masters, as well as servants, and this bold design would undoubtedly have been executed, had not the Bailiff suspected something of the kind; but this magistrate, who was an experienced cunning old rascal, expected some such violence, and therefore applied to the chief justice of Seville, who sent him so numerous a company of guards, that he no longer feared any attempt to release his prisoner.

The ladies were not at so great a distance from this scene of confusion as to be long ignorant of the particulars of the battle, and the sad result of it. They obtained their information from some of the Marquis’s servants, many of whom had been to the town out of curiosity, where they learnt all that had passed. Donna Elvira dispatched one of them to the Bailiff, desiring him to take care how he treated the Cavalier whom he had in custody, lest he should repent of it. This recommendation was not entirely thrown away; for Don Jaymé was treated better than he would otherwise have been, and furnished with every thing that was necessary to cure two or three slight wounds which he had received.