29. XXIX.
It was yet early morning when the agonized and
greatly apprehensive Melchior appeared before the
prince, in the court where the latter had been sleeping.
“Lamech—my son?” cried the venerable and anxious
parent.
“Thy child sleeps yet, Melchior,—she is in the
chamber!” was the calm reply of Pelayo.
“She!—Ha!—Speak to me, Prince Pelayo—my
child,—thou knowest her sex—her secret. She is safe?
—She has had no wrong?”
“She is as thou wouldst have her, Melchior—a pure
and virtuous maiden. But go in to her, and she will tell
thee all. Let her hear thy voice at the entrance, that
she may unbar for thee the fastenings. I will, meanwhile,
look round upon the court, that we may not be
vexed with prying glances.”
“Thyrza!” exclaimed the old man at the door, after
Pelayo had gone.
“My father!” was the sweet response from within.
The door opened in the next instant, and fond and holy
was the embrace taken between the doting father and
his dutiful and lovely child. She told him all her adventures
of the night—of the wrong which she had partially
sustained, and from the dangers of which Pelayo had
rescued her, and of the forbearance and nobleness of
the prince in all which had taken place between them.
When Pelayo returned to the court, the gratitude of the
father and daughter was spoken in the warmest language
of acknowledgment and devotion, though it remained
unspoken in words.
END OF BOOK H. AND VOL. I.
