University of Virginia Library

5. V.

“But one lone hope was left to me through all!” was
the exclamation of sorrow that burst from the lips of the
unhappy woman as the slave left the apartment. “But
one! but one—and that is gone for ever!”

The tears gushed forth freely from her eyes, and
poured unrestrainedly down her cheeks. They brought

her relief, and softened the mood which might else have
maddened her.

“To be deceived by him, and so deceived! My
life, too, would he have! 'Twas not enough that I would
give him all, and live for him, and serve his will alone!
Monstrous—oh monstrous falsehood!—and I so loved
him, so lived for him, and so believed him, too—to meet
with such return! But I will conquer yet; he shall not
escape me. I will have vengeance on him. He shall
die—ay, die, by his own device!”

She paused with these words, then sank down upon
a chair in deep meditation. Her thoughts seemed to
take a new direction, and, though evidently still intense,
and concentrated entirely upon some one leading purpose
of her mind, they had the effect of dissipating and
quieting her frequent paroxysms, and of leaving her infinitely
more sedate than usual. At length she arose,
and proceeded to the arrangement of her toilet. The
fatal potion she placed upon a table, having first, with
some curiosity, unfolded the paper which contained it,
and surveyed, with unshrinking countenance, the deadly
drug. It was a fine powder, of a dark white or bluish
complexion, and the quantity was exceeding small.
She soliloquized as she surveyed the destructive minister:

“And this is death! This! How innocent his shape!
Can this usurp the power that fills my heart, and take
the fire and feeling from mine eye—the glow that warms
my cheek—the hues that shade, and all the thousand
tints and touches of the face that make up human beauty?
Can it be? 'Tis wonderful!—'tis strange!”

She turned away shudderingly from the powder and
the mirror, upon both of which, while thus soliloquizing,
her eye had alternately and involuntarily been directed.
Moving to the corner of the chamber, she struck the
gong with a single blow, and the now obedient Zitta
made her appearance in the succeeding instant.

“Help me once more to put these robes on, Zitta.
Your term of service will soon be over—but three days
—and you will then be free of this duty, and subject to
no summons of mine, my girl.”

“You are too good, my lady,” said the now docile
slave.

“Would I were, Zitta.”

“Oh, you are, my lady. I care not now to leave
you.”

“But you must! Your mother—the poor woman—
she will want you. I will not need you long.”

“What mean you, my dear lady?”

“How?”

“Why do you say that you will not need me long?”

“What should I do with thee in Guadarrama?” said
Urraca, gayly, but evasively. “Thinkest thou I will
give so much heed to my attire among the mountains,
and the wild, skin-clothed peasantry that dwell there, as
I was fain to do here in Cordova, with the gallant young
nobles of the Goth coming around me? No, no, my
girl; I'll be a peasant there, and clothe me like the rest.
This mirror shall be thine, Zitta—thou shalt have these
jewels—there—set them in thine ears, and round thy
neck—set them, I say.”

“But, my dear lady—” expostulated the girl.

“Do as I bid thee, girl—thou art not free yet. Put
on the jewels—let me see them on thee.”

With fear, trembling, and surprise at the strange mixture
of earnestness and frivolity which seemed to operate
upon her mistress, the slave did as she was bidden,
and, pushing her away to a little distance, Urraca contemplated
her for some moments with a pleased expression
of countenance.

“I knew they would become thee—thou shalt wear
them; but not now, Zitta. Thou shalt have them for
thyself three days hence, when thou art leaving me. I
must once more adorn me with them, and take one

more view of all the charms and glories which heretofore
have gladdened my vain heart, that I may make the
greater sacrifice to Heaven when I throw aside such
vanities for ever. To-night, Zitta, thou knowest I feast
Edacer; Amri will be here also—he!—dost hear me,
Zitta?”

“Hear thee, my lady?”

“Ay; I tell thee of my company—Amri comes
here to-night.”

“He does, my lady?”

“He does! and hark thee, Zitta—I have a doubt—
a thought—it is a blessed thought!—a sweetest doubt!
May it not be, my girl, that thou hast erred in thy story
to me?—that thou hast dreamed something unseemly of
Amri, and, with thy dream to prompt thee, thou hast
vainly imagined all the rest?”

“Alas! my lady, would it were so; but I have not
dreamed—if so, whence comes the poison?”

The slave pointed to the packet, which lay unfolded
upon the toilet, and the eyes of Urraca mournfully followed
the direction given by her finger.

“True—true—true!” she responded, with the hollow
accents of one from whom the last hope has been ungently
taken away.

“True, most true!” She folded up the drug as she
spoke, and a painful silence filled the chamber for some
moments afterward. By this time Zitta had fully arrayed
her mistress, and stood in waiting for her farther
commands. Urraca beckoned her to come nigh.

“Zitta—” she said, in a whisper.

“My lady.”

“Hear me—I doubt thee not, but I would prove the
truth of what thou hast told me! Amri comes here to-night.
Thou shalt see him! Dost hear me?”

“I do, my lady.”

“He will seek thee, I doubt not, if what thou hast
said to me be true—he will seek thee to ask of thee—”

she paused before she concluded the sentence, and a
dreadful shudder passed over her frame—“to ask of
thee why it is that I live!”

“He will, I think, my lady.”

“What wilt thou say to him?”

“That the opportunity has failed me.”

“Good; I was not well—hark thee—and drank of
no wine to-day. I will refuse all drink while the day
lasts, that thou mayst not speak a falsehood in thus
saying. What then? Thou wilt promise him on the
morrow to be more urgent with me. Thou wilt promise
a better answer on the morrow—or the morrow after
that?”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Where will he seek thee? where was it his wont
to seek thee?”

“In my chamber, my lady.”

“Ha—ha! and from my chamber, Zitta, 'twas his
wont to go to thine,” said Urraca, laughing wildly, and
putting her finger on the girl's shoulder as she spoke.

The slave hung down her head in shame, and made
no answer to the remark. The gloom came back to
Urraca's features, and the smile passed away as she
continued thus:

“Well, well, it matters not now, my Zitta; the
wretch has wronged us both to our shame—if thou hast
spoken truly. But, of this, nothing! I will also seek
thee in thy chamber. Thou shalt conceal me there before
the feast be ended, for I will retire in sickness from
Edacer, and leave Amri with him. There let him seek
thee, and I will hear his speech; and if thou hast said
truly, Zitta—if he speak in support of thy story—if—”

“What, my dear lady?”

“Nothing! nothing now! Go to thy offices! Let
the wines be set—let the supper-room be got in readiness.
Spare no pains—no splendour. Outbrave, outblaze
all our former lustres—it is, you know, the Governor

of Cordova that feasts with us to-night!—'tis not
Edacer—the poor, dissolute Lord Edacer, but the favourite
of King Roderick that comes; and Amri—our
Amri, you know—comes with him. Have the wines
set; get ices from Tarracon, and spare no cost for
meats. Amri loves fish—spare nothing to procure
them. Get oysters, the fresh-brought from Africa. Provide
against all stint—against all strait. 'Twill vex me
'gainst your wishes, Zitta, if these lords call for aught
we may not give them. Away!”