University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.
THE WOUNDED CAVALIER.

The same golden moonlight that shone upon the marble
fountain, snowy pavilion, and men and steeds picturesquely
grouped on the Plaza, entered through a
casement of one of those old casas that give to the ancient
portion of New-Orleans the massive look of a
Morisco town, and fell upon the tesselated pavement of
a lofty apartment decorated with Oriental magnificence.
On a divan or ottoman in the deep recess of the window,
and nearly hidden in the shadow cast by the ample
crimson curtains, the folds of which partly concealed
it like a canopy, lay a youth in a profound sleep.
Save the twilight from the moonbeams that, like an atmosphere
of silver dust, floated through the room, all
was buried in that misty, dreamy obscurity that is so
pleasing to the senses. Through a partly-opened Venetian
door at the extremity of the chamber, opposite
to the casement, was seen a glimpse of the moonlit
court of the mansion, filled with flowers, which loaded
the air with fragrance, and a white column or two, just
visible through the foliage of lemon and orange trees
dropping with their golden fruit; while from an invisible
fountain came the sound of water, falling on stone,
refreshingly to the ear.

The ottoman on which the sleeper reposed had, from
its position, evidently been drawn into the recess by
some watchful guardian of his slumbers, to escape the
moonbeams, while the rich Damascene hangings had
been carefully arranged around it so as more effectually
to shade the face. But the moon had travelled
on through the sky, and now fell upon his forehead
like light falling upon marble. It was as alabaster,
save in the blue-tinted veins that the pencil of life had

painted beneath the skin. About his temples, which
throbbed with regular and even pulsation, as if sleep
was working a restoration in his system, clustered rich
chestnut hair, of the soft texture and of the silky, wavy
character of a beautiful child's. It was luxuriantly
long, after the fashion of the time, and lay in rich masses
over the velvet cushion that pillowed his head. His
face was pale, like his brow, but not of the deadly, wasting
pallor of prolonged disease, but as if caused by
sudden hurt in the midst of health and manly vigour,
like one who has been stricken down with ball or steel.
His features were of a noble cast, and were eminently
handsome. The manly mould, however, in which they
were shaped, on account of their extreme beauty,
scarcely redeemed them from the softness of a lovely
woman's, even aided as they were by the dark brown
mustache on his upper lip, and a certain expression of
decision impressed on the mouth. His complexion
was of a clear olive, from which suffering had drawn
the tint of health, leaving it now transparent and almost
colourless save a faint flush, scarcely perceptible on the
cheek, that might either proceed from returning life, or
be reflected upon it from the crimson hangings. He
was partly covered with a large creole manteau, which
left exposed his breast and one arm, together with a
hand of delicate whiteness and faultless symmetry, on
the least finger of which glittered an immense diamond,
like a glow-worm; while on the fore finger was conspicuous
a massive ring, on the blood-red stone of which
was engraved the crest of France. He was dressed
in a plain blue coat, which was opened for his free
breathing, and displayed within the bosom the finest
Persian linen, bordered with lace from the best looms
of Brussels. On a low divan near him lay a blue Andalusian
cap, and a sword, with a hilt in the form of a
cross, and heavy with precious stones, sheathed in a
scabbard of polished steel.

Like an infant he slept, so easy was his posture, and
so gentle and freely his breathing. Hitherto the pleasant
sound of the falling water from the inner court had

soothed rather than disturbed him, while his sleep had
been too deep to be moved by the occasional warlike
notes of a distant trumpet after the landing of the Count
of Osma, the clattering of iron hoofs as horsemen
were sent on messages through the streets, or by the
heavy tramp of the armed bands that marched by to
occupy the guardhouses. It was now within an hour
of midnight; the city was in full possession of the
Spaniards, and these martial sounds had ceased to
awaken the echoes of night; and, save the distant
calls of sentinels, no noise penetrated the casement.
Suddenly the stillness of the apartment was broken by
a light footfall, and a female figure appeared in the
door that led from it into the cloistered court, and with
a gentle step, hesitating, half-retreating, approached
the sleeper. She saw, as she came near, that his repose
continued unbroken, and with a noiseless movement
of her arm was about to draw the curtain farther
over the couch to shut out the moon; when some
sudden impulse arrested her hand; and, bending over
him, with the folds of the drapery held above him, she
gazed long upon his fair countenance with admiration
and sympathy. As she gazed she sighed, and in a
voice of music touchingly plaintive, murmured,

“Such should the youth be whom my soul would
obey and my heart love. But, alas! I am outcast and
degraded, and can look on this noble brow only with
dishonour. There remains no bridegroom for the
doomed Quadroone but death; no bridal robe but the
winding mantle of the grave!”

She sank on one knee upon a gorgeous mat beside
the divan as she spoke, and, with a hand hidden in the
clouds of raven tresses that fell over her bosom, bowed
her head upon her rounded arm, that unconsciously
rested on his couch, and seemed to be buried in deep
and painful thought. In a few moments her head
drooped upon her shoulder, and, gently sinking to the
pavement, she reclined against the divan in deep sleep.

How deep must have been the rest of the spirit of
the youth, to be unconscious of the presence of the

gentle sleeper at his pillow! At length the bell from
the Cathedral tower tolled the first stroke of midnight,
in that deep-mouthed tone which is so impressive when
heard in the stillness of night, as if Time himself spoke
warningly in its solemn voice. Slowly and heavily
rolled the successive volumes of sound along; now
swelling high on the air, now sinking fainter and far
distant to the ear, as the wind rose or fell, until the
last stroke, wafted thither by the breeze, rung out
clear and near, as if tolled close within the casement.
It startled from his repose the deep sleeper, who had
been mingling the chimes with a pleasant dream of
Castile, and who, quickly raising himself on his arm,
listened to the dying cadence of the sound as it grew
fainter and fainter in the distance; but, ere it ceased,
taking up the key, was heard the deep, sonorous voice
of a sentinel repeating his night-call, answered afar off
by another, cry answering cry, till silence once more
reigned without and within. The young man listened
in the same attitude for some moments, and then, with
a perplexed look, pressed his hand to his brow and
seemed to meditate. But gradually he allowed it to
fall again, and to rest upon the manteau which covered
him, shaking his head as if at fault, puzzled, and
wholly unable to make clear to his mind his own
identity. All at once the carnelion signet on his finger
caught his eye. He started with pleasure at this
key to his embarrassment, and comprehended instantly
the circumstances which had preceded his loss of consciousness:
at the same instant, he was made aware,
by a sharp pain in his side, caused by the suddenness
of his motion, of his being wounded.

“I have been hurt,” were the thoughts that passed
through his mind; “and some good Christian hath
found me in a senseless state, and brought me hither!”

He looked about him, and surveyed with wonder the
spacious apartment in which he found himself. Its
rich and luxurious decorations of ivory, marble, and
ebony; its hangings of damask, and divans of blue and

crimson silk; and the velvet couch on which he was
himself reclined, the moonbeams giving just sufficient
light to enable him to discern these, and appreciate the
Oriental elegance of everything around him—the beauty
of the inner court, with its snow-white columns, its
foliage and flowers; the fragrance of the lemon and
citron trees that loaded the air; the clear ringing of
the falling fountain, and the voice of a mocking-bird
that at the moment filled the court with the melodious
warbling which, in that pleasant southern land, he ever
hails the midnight moon, all entranced his senses, and
filled his heart with joy.

“If it were not for this ugly wound, which I now
well remember how I received,” he said, “I should believe
I had fallen in the fray, and that this was Paradise
to which I had awakened!”

His glance at the instant rested on a hand and arm
like moulded pearl, laid upon the head of the ottoman.
His heart leaped to his mouth, and the blood darted
like lightning through his veins. He held his breath,
and stilled the throbbing of his bosom as he gazed.
Half in the moonlight, half in the shade, supported by
her arm, with her face hidden in the abundance of her
jetty hair that fell over it, reposed the most graceful
form his imagination could pencil.

“Surely this is Paradise; and this is an Houri!”
he exclaimed, as much in the tone of seriousness as in
the accents of gallantry.

The beauteous vision had brought the bright colour
to his cheek and the warmth of life to his brow; and,
bending over her, he saw, by the rising and falling of
her vesture, as well as by the relaxed and natural position
of the limbs, that she slept. How beautiful was
the attitude of the sleeper! The polished and shapely
arm and dimpled hand, so faultless and finished in
their symmetry, with a raven tress or two thrown
upon it, contrasting its whiteness! What can compare
with the glossy softness of those tresses, or the
blackness of their hue! They concealed all her face
and bosom like a veil, having escaped in their wantonness

from a band of wrought silk that had been
gracefully bound above her forehead. Her vesture
was of the finest lawn, with large and loose sleeves,
open at the neck and breast, embroidered with gold,
and ornamented with little diamond buttons. She
wore drawers of the finest linen, deeply bordered with
lace, and around her waist, which was bewitchingly
small and elegantly turned, was tied a broad sash of
silk and gold folded together, the ends of which, entwined
with precious stones, hung long from behind in
an exceedingly graceful manner to the knees. The
hand that was free lay negligently in her lap, and the
arm, like that beneath her head, was bare nearly to
the shoulder; but, unlike that, it was clasped with a
broad and solid gold bracelet set with rubies, while on
the fingers of the hand were several small gold rings
of delicate workmanship. Sleep, in her innocence, had
permitted one foot and ancle to escape from her robe,
and unconsciously display so much of the beautiful
limb as betrayed the matchless perfection of her
charming figure. Her slipper of golden tissue, curiously
embroidered, had fallen off too, and a naked little
foot, all warmth and beauty, and like a child's in
its minute and soft proportions, caught the moonlight
and finished the picture.

He gazed enchanted! He feared to move, to
breathe, lest it should be a beautiful spirit that had
watched his sleep, and he should frighten it away.
But the whole form was breathing with life, and he
knew it must be mortal. He laid his finger, as if to
test its humanity, on the hand by his pillow, as gently
as if it had been a timid dove he feared to startle from
its rest, and the touch thrilled to his heart.

“She is mortal, and no creature of air!” he exclaimed.
“Whither has my adventurous fortune wafted
me? What beauteous being hath love commissioned
to attend upon me? Before I have beheld her
features, I am in love with that foot of pliant ivory,
and charmed with the beauty that floats around her
like a transparent cloud. If she wake not, I will lift

that virgin veil of raven tresses that enviously hides a
face which should be a match to, and, as it were, gloriously
crown a form of such perfection.”

He rose from the ottoman with the indolent motion
occasioned by the lingering influences of a sleeping
potion that had been administered to him, and with
the unsteady but graceful step of one whose natural
ease of manner is superior to physical suffering, noiselessly
passed round her, as she slept with her face to
the moon, and knelt beside her, his person hid within
the shade of the hangings. For a moment he paused
to contemplate her, and admired the glossy waves of
hair profusely covering her arm and descending to the
pavement, with here and there, like shells of pearl
gleaming through the midnight waves of Indus, glimpses
of her face and forehead.

“It were sacrilege,” he said, “to lift this modest
veil which sleep hath cast over her beauty. Yet it
were discourtesy to Nature, who hath formed a thing
so beauteous, to leave it shut up in a casket. I will
dare the crime, if crime it be to gaze on beauty.”

With a bold hand, but with a touch that would not
have waked an infant, he removèd the raven tresses
from before her face, and held the shining mass so as
to shade the eyelids from the moon, for he would not
have waked her at that moment for an empire. Her
left cheek lay upon the arm in such a position as to
show only one side of the face in outline; but it was
the most perfect profile he had ever seen. From the
forehead to the chin, the line of beauty was drawn
with such grace and truth, that the intimate union of
soul with feature was presented with a fidelity that
mocked the imitative power of the pencil. He gazed
on the fair low forehead, just enough retreating to give
feminine dignity a place, and intellect its throne; on
the jetty and finely-curved eyebrows, laid in minute
lines, like the delicate vanes of a feather, themselves
appearing like two sable feathers, twins in beauty and
size; on the veined lids of the closed eyes, fringed
with an interlacing of lashes, both love's palisades and

battery, that swept the cheek; on the soft hue of that
cheek, just shaded by the warmth of the glowing southern
sun, that loves the olive rather than the lily; on
the ripe lip, like a parted rosebud in which love lay
covert; upon the sweet, yet sad expression of the
mouth, left by her last melancholy thoughts, and which
sleep had sealed there ere it fled; on the chaste, expressive
beauty of the whole reposing countenance!—
he gazed, and wondered that aught of earthly workmanship
could be so perfect, that moulded earth which
the breath of life hath warmed could prove so beautiful.
To all these charms, which, as he gazed upon them,
served to turn admiration into a softer emotion, was
added extreme youth, scarce seventeen springs having
served to unfold so fair a flower.

“By'r lady!” he said to himself, “this divine creature
would grace a throne, and these brows would add
lustre to a regal diadem! Were I emperor of Ind,
methinks I would become a peasant most willingly for
love of her. How calmly she slumbers! 'Tis thus
only innocence and childhood rest. Innocence is
written on each lineament; is part and parcel in the
compound of her beauty; wanting which, it would
lose its better principle. 'Tis to it what lustre is to
the sun, fragrance to the rose, vision to the eye—'tis
the heaven of her loveliness. I will maintain, and
pledge my soul's bliss on it, that her cheek hath ne'er
been touched by guilty lip! Nor will I profane its
virgin purity, though the temptation had wellnigh but
now overcome my better feelings. Nay, I will leave
the cheek as pure as the envious moonbeam that, unconscious
of the loveliness it shines upon, lies coldly
on it. Yet she hath watched my pillow, till, weary
with her vigil, sleep has overtaken her. Methinks it
will be no desecration to touch her cheek in gratitude.
Nay, I will do it like a brother who salutes a sister
who hath done him kindness. Ah, Don Henrique,”
he added, smiling, “thy arguments have little virtue at
the bottom! Cupid is a lying logician, and hath filled
thy heart with reasons which are against the sober

judgment of thy head, and which will ill bear the test
thy honour would try them by! 'Tis plain thou art
in love, or on the verge on't, for none but love would
teach thee sophistry so palpable, disguise foul wrong
under semblance of right, and into heaven-born gratitude
convert the impulses of earthly passion! Yet
mine is not passion; 'tis love for the beautiful! If I
should touch her lip, it would be sinless of thoughts
or intent of wrong, as the worshipper devoutly doth
kiss the shrine of his devotion. Nay, I will just press
my lip to her hand; but if I were gently to kiss her
cheek it were not more bold. I will do it so lightly
that she will not wake; nay, will dream a fairy hath
lit upon it!”

Thus reasoned Don Henrique with temptation, and
thus do men argue with themselves when they would
yield to what they have a will to do; outreasoning
conscience till she hath not an argument left in her defence,
and then, because she is silent, delude themselves
with the belief that she approves. As the young Castilian
made up his mind to yield to the temptation, he
bent over the face of the fair sleeper with his bold lip.
Suddenly a hand was laid lightly upon his shoulder.
He started between guilty surprise and alarm, and,
looking quickly up, saw suspended above his head a
glittering stiletto ready to descend into his bosom,
while bending over him was a young man wearing the
rich habit of a chief of the courreurs de bois. He
was rather under the middle height, slightly but elegantly
formed, with the symmetry of limb of a young
Apollo. His complexion was dark as an Italian's, and
his hair was black, and hung in glossy masses about
his bared and shapely neck. His features were lofty,
and of an enthusiastic cast, and cut with the accuracy
of finished sculpture, offering to the chisel of Praxiteles
the model for a youthful warrior. They wore an
ingenuous expression, while the soft lashes that shaded
his eyes, notwithstanding the fire in them and the
quick blood in his brown cheek, betrayed a diffident

and retiring nature, and showed that to the bravery of
a man he united the bashfulness of a maiden.

His dress consisted of a short spencer of green
cloth, embroidered with myrtle leaves, the edges turned
out with gold; buff boots of deer's hide, with ample
tops, that came up to the calf of the leg, and then,
falling over, descended to the ancles again, with a silver
fringe bordering it, and most becomingly setting
off the feet. An under-dress of the softest doeskin
closely fitting the limb; an inner vest of blue silk
laced with silver; buckskin hunting-gloves, that covered
the whole wrist; a sable hat, with the broad flap
looped boldly up in front, secured with a brilliant, and
a dark green plume, that drooped low to his brows, with
a sprig of green myrtle stuck in the button, completed
the costume. He wore a short curved sword,
in shape and size between a Turkish sabre and a rapier,
with a plain iron hilt, suspended by steel chainlets
from a belt of black leather, in which also were stuck
a pair of pistols, the handles ornamented with lions'
heads carved in silver, as was also the sheath of the
stiletto that he held in his hand; while a small serpentine
bugle of elegant workmanship, chased with devices,
representing stags and hounds in full career, hung
beneath his arm.

His attitude was rather warning than threatening as
he bent over the young man, and reproof tempered the
flashing fire of his eyes as he fixed them upon the
handsome invalid's face, from which the blood, with
which the sight of beauty had mantled it, had once
more retreated, leaving it pale as when he slept; but
the collected and steady gaze of his eyes, and the decision
of his compressed lip, showed it was the paleness
of sudden surprise rather than that of fear.
For an instant the young man gazed down upon him
as he knelt beneath his extended arm, and then, with
a voice less in anger than in reproof, said,

“Is this honourable recompense, noble Spaniard, to
sully the purity of a maiden's cheek who hath watched
thy pillow till sleep hath overpowered her? with

wanton lip to insult the sister beneath the brother's
roof? Is it thus Castilian cavaliers repay deeds of
hospitality?”

“Signor! by mine honour as a Spanish gentleman,”
said the youth, blushing with ingenuous shame at the
deserved rebuke, and, struck with his manly language
and noble self-restraint, experiencing, too, an instant
admiration for him, notwithstanding his hostile attitude,
“I had never meant wrong to this maiden. Waking
from deep sleep, I found her slumbering by my couch,
and scarce believed she was not an angel. I rose,
knelt down by her side, and gazed enraptured on her
marvellous beauty. As I gazed, I thought that with
weary keeping of midnight vigil over my slumbers she
had sunk to sleep; and, while I thought this, gratitude
for her gentle service rose in my breast, and, rashly
tempted by her loveliness, I mingled gratitude with
worship; and with something of a brother's tenderness,
but without a thought that would not have borne the
Holy Virgin's scrutiny, I would have kissed her as she
slumbered. By my truth, fair sir, I have given thee
the measure of my offence!”

The candour and openness of his defence, though it
did not altogether demonstrate the entire propriety of
the fraternal mode by which he had chosen to express
his grateful sense of a maiden's kindness, at once
changed the attitude of the two young men towards
each other, and the interest the Spaniard had felt towards
the youth was instantly reciprocated by his own
bosom in return. Replacing in its scabbard the shining
steel which a moment later would have penetrated
the heart of his seemingly false guest, he extended his
hand towards him with a frank smile, saying,

“I would fain believe I did thee wrong, signor, in
suspecting thee of ill-requiting my hospitality. She is
a Quadroone, signor, and I thought thou hadst presumed
on this to offer her thy licentious love. But Azèlie
shall die by a brother's hand ere she share the fate to
which her degraded race is doomed! I am her brother;
she is dearer to me than liberty or life; and he who

dares insult her with lawless passion hath not an hour's
lease of life if Renault the Quadroon cross his path!”

The young Spanish cavalier rose from his knee as
the quadroon extended his hand, and accepted it with
a friendly grasp, and then listened to his impassioned
words with wonder and the most lively interest. When
he had ceased, he asked earnestly,

“What meanest thou by a Quadroone, brave Renault?
I am but recently from Spain, and though I have heard
often of the far-famed beauty of the creoles of Louisiana,
and something said of a lovely race of women
termed quatr'-unes, I knew not that they were not one
and the same.”

“I will first wake my sister, lest the cold marble
chill her tender limbs. She slumbers profoundly.
Poor child! she hath suffered much anxiety since the
arrival of your ships, signor, lest I should be brought
hither slain or wounded even as thou wast! I have
need to hold my life dearer than I do for her sake;
for if I fall, she hath only her own honour and pride
of spirit to defend her against injustice, with her trust
also in Heaven!”

He spoke with a deep feeling, which awakened the
other's warmest sympathy. There was a brief silence
on the part of both, and then the cavalier, taking his
arm, said,

“Let her sleep, Renault! It were rude to break
such sweet repose; nor can her head lie softer than on
the ivory arm that now pillows it! Thou mayst well
be proud to call so fair a creature sister! Is she not
most lovely?”

“Signor,” said the quadroon, sadly following the
admiring eyes of the youthful Spaniard, and resting
them for a moment with affectionate gaze upon the reclining
form, while his fraternal pride acknowledged
its wondrous beauty; “Signor, thou hast well said—she
is most lovely! It is this brilliant and most dangerous
beauty that will poison the cup of her young life! It
is this that arms a devoted brother with jealous watchfulness,
lest the prowling wolf come about his fold and
devour his only lamb! Yes, she is lovely and gentle,

and good as she is fair; Heaven avert evil from her
head, and turn aside the dark curse that hangs about
her race, that it may not descend upon her! Oh, thou
who art merciful and just,” he cried, impassionately
kneeling on one knee, spreading his hands over her,
and lifting his tearful eyes towards Heaven; “thou in
whose eyes all are equal save in guilt; who sees not
as man seeth, and judgest from the motives of the
heart rather than from the actions of the hand, forgive
me if, to save the honour of one whom thou hast
given me to protect, I should one day set at liberty her
pure spirit!”

While he was speaking the maiden lifted her head
from her arm, put back the shining veil of hair from
her temples, and gazed up into his eloquent face, her
large, glorious eyes filled with wonder.

“Brother,” she murmured as he ceased, and threw
around his neck her graceful arms, and for a moment
hung there like a tendril clinging to the stately trunk
it hath grown up with; “Brother,” she said again, “methinks
thou wert praying for me! There is no danger
threatens me that passeth thee by!”

“Nay, sweet sister! thou hast fallen asleep unawares,”
he said, avoiding a direct reply: “the cold
stone will penetrate this mat of Angola floss! Thou
hast not been a wakeful watcher to sleep on thy post.
I had affairs abroad in the city that kept me late, or I
would have relieved thee earlier. But see! thy patient
hath little need of watching; nay,” he added,
smiling and lifting her from her reclining position, “I
came and found him watching thee!”

The lovely Quadroone turned her eyes for the first
time from the face of her brother, and saw, standing
within the radiant moonlight, him whom she had left
sleeping now gazing upon her with mingled devotion
and admiration; for, if he had been charmed by her
beauty as she slept, he was now bewildered by the
light of her eyes and the sweet melody of her voice.
She blushed, and, turning with instinctive delicacy,
drew back within the shade of the curtain.

“Thou seest he needs not thy farther care, Azèlie.
Thy sleeping draught was drugged with health. Go,
now, and seek thine own pillow, which, but for the
stirring matters that kept me abroad, thy cheek should
have pressed four hours ago. In the morning the signor
will thank thee for thy nursing; good-night.”

He kissed her as he said this, with that delightful
tenderness that so becometh a guardian brother towards
a sister.

“Buenos noches! señor!” she said, as he released
her, in those mellow tones that the cavalier thought so
ravishing, and the like of which he thought he had
never heard save from the throat of the nightingale.

Then, bending her head with the modest salute of
parting courtesy beseeming a maiden towards a handsome
young stranger, she retired slowly from the
apartment, with an easy, undulating, and almost stately
motion; for, with all her loveliness and feminine
grace, there was a certain native stateliness in her air
and carriage as she walked that was only wanting to
complete her charms, and most agreeably harmonized
with her height, which was of that just stature that
cannot be described by words, and of which no sort of
idea can be conveyed in feet and inches.