 | CHAPTER XIII. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
13. CHAPTER XIII.
That may deceive us?
Have ye more strange illusions, yet more mists,
Through which the weak eye may be led to error?
What can ye say that may do satisfaction
Both for her wronged honour and your ill?
Beaumont and Fletcher.
The day which succeeded the interview related in the
preceding chapter, was that which Cardinal Mendoza had
selected for the celebrated banquet given to Columbus. On
this occasion, most of the high nobility of the court were
assembled in honour of the admiral, who was received with
a distinction which fell little short of that usually devoted
to crowned heads. The Genoese bore himself modestly,
though nobly, in all these ceremonies; and, for the hour,
all appeared to delight in doing justice to his great exploits,
and to sympathise in a success so much surpassing the
general expectation. Every eye seemed riveted on his
person, every ear listened eagerly to the syllables as they
fell from his lips, every voice was loud and willing in his
his praise.
As a matter of course, on such an occasion, Columbus
was expected to give some account of his voyage and adventures.
This was not an easy task, since it was virtually
asserting how much his own perseverance and spirit, his
sagacity and skill, were superior to the knowledge and enterprise
of the age. Still, the admiral acquitted himself
with dexterity and credit, touching principally on those
heads which most redounded to the glory of Spain, and the
lustre of the two crowns.
Among the guests, was Luis de Bobadilla. The young
man had been invited on account of his high rank, and in
consideration of the confidence and familiarity with which
he was evidently treated by the admiral. The friendship
of Columbus was more than sufficient to erase the slightly
early levities, and men quietly submitted to the influence
of the great man's example, without stopping to question
the motive, or the end. The consciousness of having done
that which few of his station and hopes would ever dream
of attempting, gave to the proud mien and handsome
countenance of Luis, a seriousness and elevation that had
not always been seated there, and helped to sustain him in
the good opinion that he had otherwise so cheaply purchased.
The manner in which he had related to Peter
Martyr and his companions the events of the expedition
was also remembered, and, without understanding exactly
why, the world was beginning to associate him, in some
mysterious manner, with the great western voyage. Owing
to these accidental circumstances, our hero was actually
reaping some few of the advantages of his spirit, though
in a way he had never anticipated; a result by no means
extraordinary, men as often receiving applause, or reprobation,
for acts that were never meditated, as for those for
which reason and justice would hold them rigidly responsible.
“Here is a health to my lord, their Highnesses' admiral
of the Ocean Sea,” cried Luis de St. Angel, raising his
cup, so that all at the board might witness the act. “Spain
oweth him her gratitude for the boldest and most beneficial
enterprise of the age, and no good subject of the two
Sovereigns will hesitate to do him honour for his services.”
The bumper was drunk, and the meek acknowledgments
of Columbus were listened to in respectful silence.
“Lord Cardinal,” resumed the free-speaking accountant
of the church's revenues, “I look upon the church's cure
as doubled by these discoveries, and esteem the number of
souls that will be rescued from perdition by the means that
will now be employed to save them, as forming no small
part of the lustre of the exploit, and a thing not likely to
be forgotten at Rome.”
“Thou say'st well, good de St. Angel,” returned the
Cardinal, “and the Holy Father will not overlook God's
agent, or his assistants. Knowledge came from the east,
and we have long looked forward to the time, when, purified
by revelation and the high commission that we hold
to its place of beginning; but we now see that its
course is still to be westward, reaching Asia by a path that,
until this great discovery, was hid from human eyes.”
Although so much apparent sympathy ruled at the festival,
the human heart was at work, and envy, the basest
and perhaps the most common of our passions, was fast
swelling in more than one breath. The remark of the
Cardinal produced an exhibition of the influence of this
unworthy feeling that might otherwise have been smothered.
Among the guests was a noble of the name of Juan
de Orbitello, and he could listen no longer, in silence, to
the praises of those whose breath he had been accustomed
to consider fame.
“Is it so certain, holy sir,” he said, addressing his host,
“that God would not have directed other means to be employed,
to effect this end, had these of Don Christopher
failed? Or, are we to look upon this voyage as the only
known way in which all these heathen could be rescued
from perdition?”
“No one may presume, Señor, to limit the agencies of
heaven,” returned the cardinal, gravely; “nor is it the
of man to question the means employed, or to doubt
the power to create others, as wisdom may dictate. Least
of all, should laymen call in question aught that the church
sanctioneth.
“This I admit Lord Cardinal,” answered the Señor de
Orbitello, a little embarrassed, and somewhat vexed at the
implied rebuke of the churchmen's remarks, “and it was
the least of my intentions to do so. But, you, Señor Don
Christopher, did you deem yourself an agent of heaven in
this expedition?”
“I have always considered myself a most unworthy instrument,
set apart for this great end, Señor,” returned the
admiral, with a grave solemnity that was well suited to impose
on the spectators. “From the first, I have felt this
impulse, as being of divine origin, and I humbly trust heaven
is not displeased with the creature it hath employed.”
“Do you then imagine, Señor Almirante, that Spain
could not produce another, fitted equally with yourself, to
either your sailing or your success?”
The boldness, as well as the singularity of this question,
produced a general pause in the conversation, and every
head was bent a little forward in expectation of the reply.
Columbus sate silent for more than a minute; then, reaching
forward, he took an egg, and holding it up to view, he
spoke mildly, but with great gravity and earnestness of
manner.
“Señores,” he said, “is there one here of sufficient expertness
to cause this egg to stand on its end? If such a
man be present, I challenge him to give us an exhibition
of his skill.”
The request produced a good deal of surprise; but a
dozen immediately attempted the exploit, amid much laughter
and many words. More than once, some young noble
thought he had succeeded, but the instant his fingers quitted
the egg, it rolled upon the table, as if in mockery of his
awkwardness.
“By Saint Luke, Señor Almirante, but this notable
achievement surpasseth our skill,” cried Juan de Orbitello.
“Here is the Conde de Llera, who hath slain so many
Moors, and who hath even unhorsed Alonzo de Ojeda, in a
tourney, can make nothing of his egg, in the way you
mention.”
“And yet it will no longer be difficult to him or even to
you, Señor, when the art shall be exposed.”
Saying thus, Columbus tapped the smaller end of his
egg lightly on the table, when, the shell being forced in, it
possessed a base on which it stood firmly and without tremour.
A murmur of applause followed this rebuke, and
the Lord of Orbitello was forced to shrink back into an insignificance,
from which it would have been better for him
never to have emerged. At this precise instant a royal
page spoke to the admiral, and then passed on to the seat
of Don Luis de Bobadilla.
“I am summoned hastily to the presence of the queen,
Lord Cardinal,” observed the admiral, “and look to your
Grace for an apology for my withdrawing. The business
is of weight, by the manner of the message, and you will
pardon my now quitting the board, though it seem early.”
The usual reply was made; and, bowed to the door by
his host and all present, Columbus quitted the room. Almost
at the same instant, he was followed by the Conde de
Llera.
“Whither goest thou, in this hurry, Don Luis?” demanded
the admiral, as the other joined him. “Art thou
in so great haste to quit a banquet such as Spain hath not
often seen, except in the palaces of her kings?”
“By San Iago! nor there, neither, Señor,” answered the
young man, gaily, “if King Ferdinand's board be taken
as the sample. But I quit this goodly company in obedience
to an order of Doña Isabella, who hath suddenly
summoned me to her royal presence.”
“Then, Señor Conde, we go together, and are like to
meet on the same errand. I, too, am hastening to the
apartments of the queen.”
“It gladdens my heart to hear this, Señor, as I know of
but one subject on which a common summons should be
sent to us. This affair toucheth on my suit, and, doubtless,
you will be required to speak of my bearing in the voyage.”
“My mind and my time have been so much occupied,
of late, with public cares, Luis, that I have not had an occasion
to question you of this. How fareth the Lady of
Valverde, and when will she deign to reward thy constancy
and love.”
“Señor, I would I could answer the last of these questions
with greater certainty, and the first with a lighter
heart. Since my return I have seen Doña Mercedes but
thrice; and though she was all gentleness and truth, my
suit for the consummation of my happiness hath been
coldly and evasively answered by my aunt. Her Highness
is to be consulted, it would seem; and the tumult produced
by the success of the voyage hath so much occupied her,
that there hath been no leisure to wait on trifles such as
those that lead to the felicity of a wanderer like myself.”
“Then is it like, Luis, that we are indeed summoned on
this very affair; else, why should thou and I be brought
together in a manner so unusual and so sudden.”
Our hero was not displeased to fancy this, and he entered
the apartments of the queen with a step as elastic, and
a mien as bright, as if he had come to wed his love.
called, had not long to wait in ante-chambers, and, ere
many minutes, he and his companions were ushered into
the presence.
Isabella received her guests in private, there being no
one in attendance but the Marchioness of Moya, Mercedes,
and Ozema. The first glances of their eyes told Columbus
and Luis that all was not right. Every countenance denoted
that its owner was endeavouring to maintain a calmness
that was assumed. The queen herself was serene and
dignified, it is true, but her brow was thoughtful, her eye
melancholy, and her cheek slightly flushed. As for Doña
Beatriz, sorrow and indignation struggled in her expressive
face, and Luis saw, with concern, that her look was averted
from him in a way she always adopted when he had seriously
incurred her displeasure. Mercedes's lips were
pale as death, though a bright spot, like vermilion, was
stationary on each cheek; her eyes were downcast, and all
her mien was humbled and timid. Ozema alone seemed
perfectly natural: still, her glances were quick and anxious,
though a gleam of joy danced in her eyes, and even a slight
exclamation of delight escaped her, as she beheld Luis,
whom she had seen but once since her arrival in Barcelona,
already near a month.
Isabella advanced a step or two, to meet the admiral, and
when the last would have kneeled, she hurriedly prevented
the act by giving him her hand to kiss.
“Not so—not so—Lord Admiral,” exclaimed the queen;
“this is homage unsuited to thy high rank and eminent
services. If we are thy sovereigns, so are we also thy
friends. I fear my lord cardinal will scarce pardon the
orders I sent him, seeing that it hath deprived him of thy
society somewhat sooner than he may have expected.”
“His Eminence, and all his goodly company, have that
to muse on, Señora, that may yet occupy them some time,”
returned Columbus, smiling in his grave manner; “doubtless,
they will less miss me than at an ordinary time.
Were it otherwise, both I, and this young count, would not
scruple to quit even a richer banquet, to obey the summons
of your Highness.”
“I doubt it not, Señor, but I have desired to see thee,
concernment. Doña Beatriz, here, hath made known to
me the presence at court, as well as the history of this fair
being, who giveth one an idea so much more exalted of thy
vast discoveries, that I marvel she should ever have been
concealed. Know'st thou her rank, Don Christopher, and
the circumstances that have brought her to Spain?”
“Señora, I do; in part through my own observation, and
in part from the statements of Don Luis de Bobadilla. I
consider the rank of the lady Ozema to be less than royal,
and more than noble, if our opinions will allow us to imagine
a condition between the two; though it must always
be remembered that Hayti is not Castile; the one being benighted
under the cloud of heathenism, and the other existing
in the sunshine of the church and civilization.”
“Nevertheless, Don Christopher, station is station, and
the rights of birth are not impaired by the condition of a
country. Although it hath pleased him already, and will
still further please the head of the church, to give us rights,
in our characters of Christian princes, over these caciques
of India, there is nothing unusual or novel in the fact.
The relation between the suzerain and the lieges is ancient
and well established; and instances are not wanting, in
which powerful monarchs have held certain of their States
by this tenure, while others have come direct from God.
In this view, I feel disposed to consider the Indian lady as
more than noble, and have directed her to be treated accordingly.
There remaineth only to relate the circumstances
that have brought her to Spain.”
“These can better come from Don Luis than from me,
Señora; he being most familiar with the events.”
“Nay, Señor, I would hear them from thine own lips.
I am already possessed of the substance of the Conde de
Llera's story.”
Columbus looked both surprised and pained, but he did
not hesitate about complying with the queen's request.
“Hayti hath its greater and its lesser princes, or caciques,
your Highness,” he added, “the last paying a species
of homage, and owing a certain allegiance to the first,
as hath been said—”
“Thou see'st, daughter-marchioness, this is but a natural
in the West!”
“Of the first of these was Guacanagari, of whom I have
already related so much to your Highness,” continued Columbus,
“and of the last, Mattinao, the brother of this
lady. Don Luis visited the cacique Mattinao, and was present
at an inroad of Caonabo, a celebrated Carib chief, who
would fain have made a wife of her who now stands in this
illustrious presence. The Conde conducted himself like a
gallant Castilian cavalier, routed the foe, saved the lady,
and brought her in triumph to the ships. Here it was determined
she should visit Spain, both as a means of throwing
more lustre on the triumph of the two crowns, and of
removing her, for a season, from the attempts of the Carib,
who is too powerful and warlike to be withstood by a race
as gentle as that of Mattinao's.”
“This is well, Señor, and what I have already heard;
but how happeneth it, that Ozema did not appear with the
rest of thy train, in the public reception of the town?”
“It was the wish of Don Luis it should be otherwise,
and I consented that he and his charge should sail privately
from Palos, with the expectation of meeting me in
Barcelona. We both thought the lady Ozema too superior
to her companions, to be exhibited to rude eyes as a
spectacle.”
“There was delicacy, if there were not prudence in the
arrangement,” the queen observed a little drily. “Then
the lady Ozema hath been some weeks solely in the care
of the Conde de Llera?”
“I so esteem it, your Highness, except as she hath been
placed under the guardianship of the Marchioness of Moya.”
“Was this altogether discreet, Don Christopher, or as
one prudent as thou should'st have consented to?”
“Señora!” exclaimed Luis, unable to restrain his feelings
longer.
“Forbear, young sir,” commanded the queen. “I shall
have occasion to question thee presently, when thou may'st
have a need for all thy readiness, to give the fitting answers.
Doth not thy discretion rebuke thy indiscretion in
this matter, Lord Admiral?”
“Señora, the question, like its motive, is altogether new
Count, and then did I know that his heart hath long been
given to the fairest and worthiest damsel of Spain; besides,
my mind hath been so much occupied with the grave
subjects of your Highness' interests, that it hath had but
little opportunity to dwell on minor things.”
“I believe thee, Señor, and thy pardon is secure. Still,
for one so experienced, it was a sore indiscretion to trust to
the constancy of a fickle heart, when placed in the body
of a light-minded and truant boy. And, now, Conde de
Llera, I have that to say to thee, which thou may'st find it
difficult to answer. Thou assentest to all that hath hitherto
been said?”
“Certainly, Señora. Don Christopher can have no motive
to misstate, even were he capable of the meanness. I
trust our house hath not been remarkable in Spain, for
recreant and false cavaliers.”
“In that I fully agree. If thy house hath had the misfortune
to produce one untrue and recreant heart, it hath
the glory”—glancing at her friend—“of producing others
that might equal the constancy of the most heroic minds
of antiquity. The lustre of the name of Bobadilla doth
not altogether depend on the fidelity and truth of its head
— nay, hear me, sir, and speak only when thou art ready
to answer my questions. Thy thoughts, of late, have been
bent on matrimony?”
“Señora, I confess it. Is it an offence to dream of the
honourable termination of a suit that hath been long urged,
and which I had dared to hope was finally about to receive
your own royal approbation?”
“It is then as I feared, Beatriz!” exclaimed the queen;
“and this benighted but lovely being hath been deceived by
the mockery of a marriage; for no subject of Castile would
dare thus to speak of wedlock, in my presence, with the
consciousness that his vows had actually and lawfully been
given to another. Both the church and the prince would
not be thus braved, by even the greatest profligate of
Spain!”
“Señora, your Highness speaketh most cruelly, even
while you speak in riddles!” cried Luis. “May I presume
to ask if I am meant in these severe remarks?”
“Of whom else should we be speaking, or to whom else
allude? Thou must have the inward consciousness, unprincipled
boy, of all thy unworthiness; and yet thou
darest thus to brave thy sovereign—nay, to brave that suffering
and angelic girl, with a mien as bold as if sustained
by the purest innocence!”
“Señora, I am no angel, myself, however willing to
admit Doña Mercedes to be one; neither am I a saint of
perfect purity, perhaps — in a word, I am Luis de Bobadilla
— but as far from deserving these reproaches, as from
deserving the crown of martyrdom. Let me humbly demand
my offence?”
“Simply that thou hast either cruelly deceived, by a
feigned marriage, this uninstructed and confiding Indian
princess, or hast insolently braved thy sovereign with the
professions of a desire to wed another, with thy faith
actually plighted at the altar, to another. Of which of
these crimes thou art guilty, thou knowest best, thyself.”
“And thou, my aunt — thou, Mercedes — dost thou, too,
believe me capable of this?”
“I fear it is but too true,” returned the marchioness,
coldly; “the proof is such that none but an Infidel could
deny belief.”
“Mercedes?”
“No, Luis,” answered the generous girl, with a warmth
and feeling that broke down the barriers of all conventional
restraint—“I do not think thee base as this—I do not think
thee base at all; merely unable to restrain thy wandering
inclinations. I know thy heart too well, and thine honour
too well, to suppose aught more than a weakness that thou
would'st fain subdue, but canst not.”
“God and the Holy Virgin be blessed for this!” cried
the count, who had scarcely breathed while his mistress
was speaking. “Anything but thy entertaining so low an
opinion of me, may be borne!”
“There must be an end of this, Beatriz; and I see no
surer means, than by proceeding at once to the facts,” said
the queen. “Come hither, Ozema, and let thy testimony
set this matter at rest, for ever.”
The young Indian, who comprehended Spanish much
better than she expressed herself in the language, although
was said, immediately complied, her whole soul being engrossed
with what was passing, while her intelligence was
baffled in its attempts thoroughly to comprehend it. Mercedes
alone had noted the workings of her countenance, as
Isabella reproved, or Luis made his protestations, and they
were such as completely denoted the interest she felt in
our hero.
“Ozema,” resumed the queen, speaking slowly, and
with deliberate distinctness, in order that the other might
get the meaning of her words as she proceeded. “Speak
—art thou wedded to Luis de Bobadilla, or not?”
“Ozema Luis's wife,” answered the girl, laughing and
blushing. “Luis Ozema's husband.”
“This is plain as words can make it, Don Christopher,
and is no more than she hath already often affirmed, on my
anxious and repeated inquiries. How and when did Luis
wed thee, Ozema?”
“Luis wed Ozema with religion — with Spaniard's religion.
Ozema wed Luis with love and duty — with Hayti
manner.”
“This is extraordinary, Señora,” observed the admiral,
“and I would gladly look into it. Have I your Highness's
permission to inquire into the affair, myself?”
“Do as thou wilt, Señor,” returned the queen, coldly.
“My own mind is satisfied, and it behoveth my justice to
act speedily.”
“Conde de Llera, dost thou admit, or dost thou deny, that
thou art the husband of the lady Ozema?” demanded Columbus,
gravely.
“Lord Admiral, I deny it altogether. Neither have I
wedded her, nor hath the thought of so doing, with any
but Mercedes, ever crossed my mind.”
This was said firmly, and with the open frankness that
formed a principal charm in the young man's manner.
“Hast thou, then, wronged her, and given her a right to
think that thou didst mean wedlock?”
“I have not. Mine own sister would not have been more
respected than hath Ozema been respected by me, as is
shown by the fact that I have hastened to place her in the
“This seemeth reasonable, Señora; for man hath ever
that much respect for virtue in your sex, that he hesitateth
to offend it even in his levities.”
“In opposition to all these protestations, and to so much
fine virtue, Señor Colon, we have the simple declaration of
one untutored in deception—a mind too simple to deceive;
and of a rank and hopes that would render such a fraud as
unnecessary as it would be unworthy. Beatriz, thou dost
agree with me, and cannot find an apology for this recreant
knight, even though he were once the pride of thy house?”
“Señora, I know not. Whatever may have been the failings
and weaknesses of the boy — and heaven it knows
that they have been many — deception and untruth have
never made a part. I have even ascribed the manner in
which he hath placed the princess in my immediate care,
to the impulses of a heart that did not wish to conceal the
errors of the head, and to the expectation that her presence
in my family might sooner bring me to a knowledge of the
truth. I could wish that the lady Ozema might be questioned
more closely, in order that we make certain of not
being under the delusion of some strange error.”
“This is right,” observed Isabella, whose sense of justice
ever inclined her to make the closest examination into
the merits of every case that required her decision. “The
fortune of a grandee depends on the result, and it is meet
he enjoy all fair means of vindicating himself from so
heinous an offence. Sir Count, thou canst therefore, question
her, in our presence, touching all proper grounds of
inquiry.”
“Señora, it would ill become a knight to put himself in
array against a lady, and she, too, of the character and
habits of this stranger,” answered Luis, proudly; colouring
as he spoke, with the consciousness that Ozema was
utterly unable to conceal her predilection in his favour.
“If such an office is, indeed, necessary, its functions would
better become another.”
“As the stern duty of punishing must fall on me,” the
queen calmly observed, “I will then assume this unpleasant
office. Señor Almirante, we may not shrink from any obligation
God, his justice. Princess, thou hast said that Don Luis
hath wedded thee, and that thou considerest thyself his
wife. When and where didst thou meet him before a
priest?”
So many attempts had been made to convert Ozema to
Christianity, that she was more familiar with the terms
connected with religion than with any other part of the
language, though her mind was a confused picture of imaginary
obligations, and of mystical qualities. Like all who
are not addicted to abstractions, her piety was more connected
with forms than with principles, and she was better
disposed to admit the virtue of the ceremonies of the
church than the importance of its faith. The question of
the queen was understood, and, therefore, it was answered
without guile, or a desire to deceive.
“Luis wed Ozema with Christian's cross,” she said,
pressing to her heart the holy emblem that the young man
had given to her in a moment of great peril, and in a
manner the reader already knows. “Luis think he about
to die — Ozema think she about to die — both wish to die
man and wife, and Luis wed with the cross, like good
Spanish Christian. Ozema wed Luis in her heart, like
Hayti lady, in her own country.”
“Here is some mistake—some sad mistake, growing out
of the difference of language and customs,” observed the
admiral. “Don Luis hath not been guilty of this deception.
I witnessed the offering of that cross, which was made at
sea, during a tempest, and in a way to impress me favourably
with the count's zeal in behalf of a benighted soul.
There was no wedlock there; nor could any, but one who
hath confounded our usages, through ignorance, imagine
more than the bestowal of a simple emblem, that it was
hoped might be useful, in extremity, to one that had not
enjoyed the advantages of baptism and the church's offices.”
“Don Luis, dost thou confirm this statement, and also
assert that thy gift was made solely with this object?”
asked the queen.
“Señora, it is most true. Death was staring us in the
face, and I felt that this poor wanderer, who had trusted
herself to our care, with the simple confidence of a child,
as that memorial of our blessed Redeemer, and of
our own redemption. To me it seemed to be the preservative
next to baptism.”
“Hast thou never stood before a priest with her, nor in
any manner abused her guileless simplicity?”
“Señora, it is not my nature to deceive, and every weakness
of which I have been guilty in connexion with Ozema
shall be revealed. Her beauty and her winning manners
speak for themselves, as doth her resemblance to Doña
Mercedes. The last, greatly inclined me to her, and, had not
my heart been altogether another's, it would have been my
pride to make the princess my wife. But we met too late
for that; and even the resemblance led to comparisons, in
which one, educated in infidelity and ignorance, must necessarily
suffer. That I have had moments of tenderness
for Ozema, I will own; but that they ever supplanted, or
came near supplanting, my love for Mercedes, I do deny.
If I have any fault to answer for, to the lady Ozema, it is
because I have not always been able to suppress the feelings
that her likeness to the Doña Mercedes, and her own
ingenuous simplicity — chiefly the former — have induced.
Never otherwise, in speech or act, have I offended against
her.”
“This soundeth upright and true, Beatriz. Thou knowest
the count better than I, and can easier say how far we
ought to confide in these explanations.”
“My life on their truth, my beloved mistress! Luis is
no hypocrite, and I rejoice — oh! how exultingly do I rejoice!—at
finding him able to give this fair vindication of
his conduct. Ozema, who hath heard of our form of wedlock,
and hath seen our devotion to the cross, hath mistaken
her position, as she hath my nephew's feelings, and supposed
herself a wife, when a Christian girl would not have
been so cruelly deceived.”
“This really hath a seeming probability, Señores,” continued
the queen, with her sex's sensitiveness to her sex's
delicacy of sentiment, not to say to her sex's rights —
“This toucheth of a lady's — nay, of a princess' feelings,
and must not be treated of openly. It is proper that any
further explanations should be made only among females;
what hath this night been said never be spoken of, amid the
reveals of men. The lady Ozema shall be my care; and,
Count of Llera, thou shalt know my final decision to-morrow,
concerning Doña Mercedes and thyself.”
As this was said with a royal, as well as with a womanly,
dignity, no one presumed to demur, but, making the customary
reverences, Columbus and our hero left the presence.
It was late before the queen quitted Ozema, but what passed
in this interview will better appear in the scenes that are
still to be given.
| CHAPTER XIII. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |