University of Virginia Library

13. CHAPTER XIII.
SCENE BETWEEN THE LOVERS.

Don Henrique had been left, by the refined cruelty
of Rascas, who proved a faithful successor to those
Fathers of the Inquisition, whose inhumanity had framed
the iron vaults beneath the foundations of the prison,
chained by the waist and hands to iron staples in the
side of the vault. He could now neither stand nor sit;
and, fatigued by sorrow and overcome by his miserable
condition, he had fallen into a troubled sleep while
suspended, as it were, from the wall. A massive golden
crucifix lay at his feet, which Osma had left with
him in mockery.

He had given up all hopes of life; and, striving to
forget every earthly tie, fixed his mind on that world
into which he felt he was soon to enter. Yet in his
dreams he was again in the boudoir of Azèlie, kneeling
at her feet, and breathing his passion into her listening
ear; was once more in the hall of his fathers, and
wandering over the hills of sunny Spain. The spirit
that guided his dreams was merciful, and presented to
his mind only objects that were agreeable and most opposite
to the mournful realities of his waking hours.
From the midst of one of these pleasant visions he was
startled by the clanging of chains and the removing of
bars and bolts.

“Alas! Heaven be merciful to me!” he ejaculated,
awaking to the reality of his unhappy condition.
“Now is the assassin at hand whose steel will be the
key to let my weary spirit into the world beyond!
Must I die here like an ox! Oh, for one good sword,
and an arm unchained to wield it, that I might fall
like a man and a knight!”

The door of his dungeon opened, and the Moor appeared,

holding a shaded lantern in his hand, followed
by a tall figure wrapped in a gray mantle, which he
at once knew must be the sorceress who had taken
such an interest in the fate of Azèlie, and also in his
own. Hope—that blessed angel and Heaven's best
gift to poor humanity in this sad world—was instantly
reawakened in his breast by her appearance. She
paused on the threshold of the cell, and with a look
of compassion and sympathy, that contrasted singularly
with her harsh, sepulchral features, surveyed him in silence.
At length she advanced, and, kneeling, took his
hand, and said with reverence,

“Unhappy prince! Thy cruel captivity is now
ended! Alas! that I should behold a prince of Spain
in such a state of degradation and misery! Unlock
these chains and cast them into the sea, that the record
of this dishonour may not exist on the earth!”
she cried, with stern indignation.

Sulem obeyed, and Don Henrique stood erect, unbound.
“Is this a dream?” he asked, with troubled
doubt.

“Thou art free, noble signor. He who hath put
thee here will soon take thy place.”

“Ha! hath the city rebelled?”

“No; but Justice hath come to her seat.”

“You speak mysteriously!”

“It shall be made as clear as sunlight, prince, to
thee and every man.”

“Prince! I did then hear aright! How knowest
thou me?”

“If thy secret be to six, doth it surprise thee that a
seventh hath it? Be it enough that I know thee, and
wherefore thou art a wanderer from the palace of thy
fathers. Follow me, and thou shalt learn all thou
wouldst know.”

“Then tell me here—here, before thou movest,” he
cried, catching her by the mantle, “what of—of—”

“The maiden whose love thou hast won! Be happy,
prince! She is safe, and in all honour beneath
her own roof!”

“And thou hast saved her?” he cried, scarcely
crediting what he had heard.

“I have, noble signor.”

“Then Heaven bless thee—bless thee! for—for I
cannot!” he articulated with choked utterance, and,
falling on his knees, kissed her robe and burst into
tears.

In twenty minutes afterward Don Henrique had
Azèlie folded in his arms, whom at length he released
only to receive the fraternal embrace of Renault. The
Moor, whom the sorceress had enslaved to her own
will, had treacherously admitted them in the face of
the unsuspecting guards, who silently acknowledged
the seal of their commander in his hands, as well as
the scarce less authoritative command of the confidential
slave. Having witnessed their meeting, the
sorceress departed alone and unquestioned.

Estelle sat by her lattice until long after twelve,
communing with herself upon the fate of Renault and
of his sister; but the former was uppermost in her
thoughts; and each moment love for the handsome
and spirited youth grew stronger in her heart from
that it fed upon.

Suddenly she rose; and, casting a cloak about her,
and otherwise disguising herself as she had once before
done, she stole from her chamber, and, unobserved,
reached her father's cabinet.

He slept where an hour or two before he had cast
himself upon the ottoman, and a tall silver candelabrum
with wax lights alone burned upon his escritoir.
She softly approached, and from a secret drawer of
the secretaire took two of several private seals it contained.
Retiring, she hastily left the palace, making
use of one of the signets in passing the guard. Then
speaking to a soldier, she demanded to be directed to
the residence of Renault the Quadroon. From his
ready knowledge of this habitation, she discovered
that the recent circumstances had made it known to
most of the governor's guard. Having learned from
him its situation, she departed in search of it. After

traversing a part of one street, and turning an angle
or two of others, she came suddenly upon a sentry,
who challenged her from the foot of a garden wall on
the opposite side of the way. Ignorant of the countersign,
she knew not what to answer, and trembled
lest she should be discovered. Her hesitation was
observed by the soldier, who challenged a second
time, at the same time bringing his piece to his
shoulder.

“Camarada!” she answered, going towards him.

“Stand and give the countersign,” he demanded, as
she reached the middle of the way.

“Throw up your piece, sirrah!” she cried, in an
authoritative tone, advancing upon him. “Do you dare
menace a messenger of the governor? Behold my
authority!” she added, holding out the signet.

He advanced a step and took it from her, and, after
carefully examining it, returned it. “You might as
easily, signor, have given the countersign, if it is such
a long-winded words as `Death to Osma's foes,' as to
have given me this trouble,” he muttered; and, shouldering
his piece, he bade her pass on.

With alacrity, she cheerfully obeyed, and was soon
at the treble-guarded portal of the dwelling. Here,
making use of the countersign she had so unexpectedly
obtained possession of, as well as of the signet, she
was admitted into the court, muffled to the eyes as she
was, without question or hesitation on the part of the
sentinels. Azèlie's boudoir was pointed out to her,
and the captain of the guard, accompanying her to
within a few feet of the curtained door, returned again
to his post. She paused. Her heart beat tumultuously.
She had come thither scarcely reflecting on
her object in doing so, and had laid no plan of conduct
for her guidance. The danger of Renault and
his sister had inspired her to take a step at which she
now trembled with maidenly shame and hesitation.
They were in peril from her father's united passion
and vengeance, and she had suggested to her mind, as
she sat in her chamber, the idea to rescue them through

the agency of the signets which she had afterward taken
for the purpose.

But, now that the moment of action had arrived—
that a curtain alone separated her from the young
courreur chef, who had inspired her with so tender
and deep a passion—her heart failed. She leaned
against a column of the cloister for support, and summoned
all her strength of mind and native energy of
character to her aid. At length she became collected,
and formed the resolution to present herself boldly before
them, offer them the way to escape, conduct them
through the guards disguised, and, by the aid of the
countersign and signet, out of the city gates to liberty.

“I may never see him more,” she thought; “and he
will have departed without knowing he has left so true
a heart behind him. Perhaps he would scorn my
love! Yet his eye told me otherwise, modestly as he
sought to shade his love beneath the downcast lid. I
will nevertheless sacrifice my love to his freedom.
That he is worthy of my affection—that he is not of the
race that claims him—my heart, as well as the language
of that mysterious woman, doth tell me. No,
I have too proud a heart to cast my love unworthily.
I know he could not be debased, or he would not have
awakened an interest in the bosom of the daughter of
the house of Osma.”

Thus run her thoughts as she paused with her grasp
upon the curtain that was dropped before the entrance.
She was about to lift it, when the voice of Renault
within arrested her hand as suddenly as if it had been
paralyzed.

“It is certain, dearest sister,” he said, in a melancholy
voice, “that this trial, which this wicked Spaniard
hath appointed, will be a mockery like that of the
councillors. We can hope for no justice but from
Heaven.”

“Can that fatal parchment by no means be taken
from him, Renault?” asked an earnest voice, which
she recognised to be that of Don Hernique.

“If it could be done, it would overthrow, in the eye

of justice, his claim; which, with this in his hand, he
may sustain where false judges and the tools of his
will sit in judgment; for every honest judge would
see that his claim is founded on injustice and tyranny.”

“Yet, with this evidence in his possession,” said
Don Henrique, “the law must sustain him in his
claim without taking into consideration the abstract
question of the purpose he has in view in maintaining
and defending it. I fear it will go against you, notwithstanding
the hope held out by this wonderful sorceress.”

“She did not say that it would not be decided
against us, brother,” said the silvery and touching
voice of Azèlie; “but that, if it were, the judgment
would fall on his head instead of ours.”

“Thou hast great faith, sweet Azèlie, in this woman,”
said Don Henrique; “and I must acknowledge I
think she hath some plan in view for your safety and
Osma's shame. Nevertheless, if we could get possession
of this parchment before the day of trial, we
might, perhaps, through the aid of this sorceress, defeat
him.”

“I wish it could be done,” said Renault; “I have
little faith in her; for I have thought that my arrest
is owing to her. Indeed, had she led me, with all my
men, into the town, Osma would have been my prisoner
instead of my being his!”

“And wouldst thou then have saved me, brother, as
thou didst do?” asked Azèlie, reprovingly.

“Nay, perhaps it is best as it is,” he answered; “for
I should have been reluctant, with my sincere passion
for that lovely creature, his daughter, to have done
him outrage. For her sake, methinks I could submit
to any wrong that touched not Azèlie.”

“She is a noble girl, and I have seen much of her
on shipboard,” said Don Henrique; “not to have
been ruined for any man's love, by her father's masculine
method of educating her, shows that she possesses
no ordinary mind. Didst thou tell her of thy love?”

“Nay—I am a quadroon, and could not insult her,”
he said, bitterly.

“Thou mighst have told it without shame to her
or thyself; for methinks I have never met a man better
fitted to be worn in a noble maiden's heart than
thou!”

“She would have scorned me.”

“Renault,” answered Don Henrique, seriously,
“from some words that fell from the sorceress, who
seems to know all things hidden from common eyes, I
do not believe thee to be a quadroon.”

“Not a quadroon, signor?”

“No.”

“Who and what am I, then?”

“I cannot tell. Doubtless she will disclose it to
thee, as she has promised to reveal, if thou wilt let me
love thy gentle sister here, who I am,” he said, smiling.

“Would it could be proved so! But my mother!”

“I do not believe she is thy mother.”

“I would, indeed, it could be proven so; yet I would
not,” he added, “I would not it should be thus; for I
should lose this sweet sister then.”

Estelle, whose eager interest in their conversation
led her slightly to lift the curtain, beheld him then
tenderly bend over and embrace Azèlie, who, with
Don Henrique, was reclining on gorgeous rugs at his
feet. She gazed on the group, with a desire to take
the place in it her heart had chosen. Suddenly, as if
impelled by an irresistible impulse to obey her wishes,
she drew aside the hangings, and was in the midst ere
she well knew it. Don Henrique and Renault both
sprang to their feet on seeing an intruder enveloped to
the brow in a Spanish roquelaure, with a broad sombrero
flapping over his eyes. But they were both
without arms, and only gazed upon him with suspicion
and defiance.

“Nay, Don Henrique,” she said, turning with instinctive
delicacy to the young Spaniard, instead of addressing

herself to Renault, “be not alarmed! I pray
you both pardon the step; it has in it your safety.”

She removed the hat and dropped the mantle from
her shoulders as she spoke, but not before Renault had
recognised the disguise, and the voice that no disguise
could hide from his true ear.

“Senorita Estelle!” exclaimed Don Henrique, on
beholding her.

“My deliverer!” cried Azèlie, flying to her to embrace
her feet; but she prevented her, and caught her
in her arms.

Renault stood by silent and sorrowful. Duty and
honour bade him hide his love, and smother it ere it
should break out. But she had overheard the confession
of his love to Don Henrique. She now saw his
embarrassment—construed his feelings—read his inmost
soul. She lifted her eyes, and they encountered
his. With a smile she then advanced towards him;
and with a graceful dignity of manner, and an open
frankness, yet modesty of speech that was extraordinary,
said,

“Noble Renault, I have unawares overheard your
words in which you confessed your love for the daughter
of your foe. The time and circumstances allow no
disguise, no empty and heartless forms and passages
of ceremony. If it will make thy brow less sad and
thy heart lighter, know from my lips that thy love is
returned—nay, had its birth with thine! If thou art
proved, as I trust and believe thou wilt be, one of my
own race, however lowly be thy lot in it, my hand
shall be thine if thou demandest it. But if thou art
of the race of bondsmen, which Heaven forefend!
though my heart is and must ever be thine, my bridegroom
will be the church. Wilt thou receive my love
on these hard terms, which only as a true and noble
Spanish maiden it becometh me to offer, and which, if
I know thee aright, it beseemeth thee only to accept?”

“Dearest and most noble lady,” said Renault, kneeling
at her feet, “thou hast made me the happiest of
beings. This ingenuous confession on thy part, which

my ignoble condition would never have led me to
make, shows the greatness of thy mind as well as the
depth and purity of thy love. Thou hast well understood
me. Knowing my degraded birth, never would
my love for thee have allowed me to forget it. On no
other terms than those thou hast named should I have
dared to think of one spotless and noble as thyself.
Thou, a Castilian by birth, of a noble race, of far and
high descent, of unblemished blood, whose rank and
beauty would command the homage of the highborn
and noble, thou to speak thus to me! Lady! I am at
once humbled and exalted!”

She extended her hand, much moved at his words,
and with reverence and devotion he pressed it to his
lips.

“I trust, Don Henrique,” she said, turning to him
with a becoming embarrassment, “that the strangeness
of our circumstances and situations, added to the unsettled
state of these times, which may excuse many
departures from conventional rules, will excuse me in
your eyes from overstepping the bounds of decorum?”

“Nay, Estelle, there needeth no other apology than
that thy love hath plainly given,” he said, with a smile.

“I need not ask from thee wherefore thou hast lingered
here, under plea of being wounded, Sir Cavalier,”
she retorted, glancing her eyes from himself to
Azèlie, who betrayed so much ingenuous confusion at
her significant words, that Estelle, after admiring her
a moment, suddenly changed the current of ideas by
saying abruptly, yet playfully, to Renault,

“Think not, signor, I came hither to declare my
love to thee! 'Twas but the overhearing of thine own
confession that drew mine from me. I came hither
to rescue thee and thine: now our conversation takes
a serious turn! 'Twere madness to wait here for the
trial. My father hath the wills of the members of the
cabildo in his own hands; they are his creatures! It
therefore matters nothing whether he be its president
or not. It is a hard saying for the daughter of a
dearly-loved father, but he will have you condemned!

Your fate is sealed in his heart! To wait, therefore,
is to sacrifice yourselves. Fly!”

“We are prisoners and unarmed, dearest lady,”
said Renault; “flight were impossible.”

“I have here the means. The password of your
guard is, must I say it to thee? `Death to Osma's
foes!' This signet will open every barrier between
you and liberty.”

“Fair Estelle,” said Don Henrique, after seeing
from Renault's face that his opinion was the same with
his own, “this plan may be feasible, yet it is attended
with great danger. Gratitude is due to you for this
self-sacrifice, and imminent risk on your part to propose
and offer it. To be retaken would be certain
ruin and death; while it would appear to the world
like guilt, the consciousness of justly being in bondage
to him, and he would make use of it to the degradation
of his victims and the enlargement of his own triumph.
Besides—and I have great faith in her—this
Moorish sorceress, who has so much power over thy
father, has given us hopes that the trial will result to
the honour of one party and the disgrace of the other.”

“That is my father! This, I must tell you, is what
I fear. It is this that would lead me to aid the escape
of both, that whatever evil this dreadful woman hath
ready to pour upon his head may be averted—”

“And fall upon the heads of Renault and Azeliè,”
said Don Henrique, with bitter reproof.

“Oh, whither—how shall I turn? 'Twill wring my
sould either way,” she cried, with anguish. “Aid me,
Don Henrique!”

“Let things take their course. Thou hast confessed
thy interest in Renault. Hast thou not, then, a
hope depending on this very trial—a proof to be substantiated?
Let events flow on; but let us prepare
for them, and, if it is possible, lessen thy father's power
to do harm. We look upon thee now as of our own
party, how much soever thou lovest thy father; and
thou mayst serve us and thyself with no more treason
to him than virtue will forgive. To his cabinet thou

hast free access at all hours. The parchment of manumission
which he now holds must be obtained, and
placed in Renault's possession.”

“It will not avail, signor. He will yet call on the
trial, and demand judgment on his own oral claim.”

“Be it so. Such a decision will be unjust and without
law, and Renault and Azèlie will have the sympathy
of the people on their side. A decision supported by
the parchment would meet, notwithstanding the popularity
of Renault, with their passive acquiescence.”

“It shall be done,” said Estelle, firmly, after a moment's
reflection, during which she underwent a keen
and trying conflict between her filial duty and her love
for Renault.

She left them after saying this, and in half an hour
afterward the fatal parchment was in the possession of
Renault.

During the interval before the morning of St. Michael's
Day, the brother and sister remained imprisoned
and undisturbed in their own dwelling, with, unknown
to all save themselves, the society of Don Henrique,
who had determined to appear at the trial, and
to support his loved Azèlie in the ordeal through which
she had to pass. The sorceress, even up to the morning
of the sixth day, did not again make her appearance,
and their faith in her began to give way to doubts and
distressing fears. From Estelle, who visited them
nightly, disguised as she had been at first, they learned
that the Moor, by the direction, as they afterward understood,
of the sorceress, had reported to her father
the death of Don Henrique in prison, at which he expressed
a degree of joy that surprised her, until Don
Henrique, with as much forbearance as the subject
would admit of, related to her the cause of his displeasure
against him. While from the Moor, who had
become friendly and secretly attentive to their comfort,
they learned that the Count of Osma had ordered him,
without expressing a desire to see it, to leave the body
of his rival in the dungeon where he supposed him to
have perished, to wall up the door, cover the trapdoor

above with a pavement, and otherwise concealing all
traces and signs of a subterranean vault, convert his
prison into his tomb.