BOOK III.
CHAPTER I.
ISABEL AND THE JEWISH MAIDEN.
While this scene took place before the tribunal of Torquemada, Leila had
been summoned from the indulgence of fears, which her gentle nature and
her luxurious nurturing had ill-fitted her to contend against, to the
presence of the queen. That gifted and high-spirited princess, whose
virtues were her own, whose faults were of her age, was not, it is true,
without the superstition and something of the intolerant spirit of her
royal spouse: but, even where her faith assented to persecution, her
heart ever inclined to mercy; and it was her voice alone that ever
counteracted the fiery zeal of Torquemada, and mitigated the sufferings
of the unhappy ones who fell under the suspicion of heresy. She had,
happily, too, within her a strong sense of justice, as well as the
sentiment of compassion; and often, when she could not save the accused,
she prevented the consequences of his imputed crime falling upon the
innocent members of his house or tribe.
In the interval between his conversation with Ferdinand and the
examination of Almamen, the Dominican had sought the queen; and had
placed before her, in glowing colours, not only the treason of Almamen,
but the consequences of the impious passion her son had conceived for
Leila. In that day, any connection between a Christian knight and a
Jewess was deemed a sin, scarce expiable; and Isabel conceived all that
horror of her son's offence which was natural in a pious mother and a
haughty queen. But, despite all the arguments of the friar, she could
not be prevailed upon to render up Leila to the tribunal of the
Inquisition; and that dread court, but newly established, did not dare,
without her consent, to seize upon one under the immediate protection
of the queen.
"Fear not, father," said Isabel, with quiet firmness, "I will take upon
myself to examine the maiden; and, at least, I will see her removed from
all chance of tempting or being tempted by this graceless boy. But she
was placed under the charge of the king and myself as a hostage and a
trust; we accepted the charge, and our royal honor is pledged to the
safety of the maiden. Heaven forbid that I should deny the existence of
sorcery, assured as we are of its emanation from the Evil One; but I
fear, in this fancy of Juan's, that the maiden is more sinned against
than sinning: and yet my son is, doubtless, not aware of the unhappy
faith of the Jewess; the knowledge of which alone will suffice to cure
him of his error. You shake your head, father; but, I repeat, I will act
in this affair so as to merit the confidence I demand. Go, good Tomas.
We have not reigned so long without belief in our power to control and
deal with a simple maiden."
The queen extended her hand to the monk, with a smile so sweet in its
dignity, that it softened even that rugged heart; and, with a reluctant
sigh, and a murmured prayer that her counsels might be guided for the
best, Torquemada left the royal presence.
"The poor child!" thought Isabel, "those tender limbs, and that fragile
form, are ill fitted for yon monk's stern tutelage. She seems gentle:
and her face has in it all the yielding softness of our sex; doubtless by
mild means, she may be persuaded to abjure her wretched creed; and the
shade of some holy convent may hide her alike from the licentious gaze of
my son and the iron zeal of the Inquisitor. I will see her."
When Leila entered the queen's pavilion, Isabel, who was alone, marked
her trembling step with a compassionate eye; and, as Leila, in obedience
to the queen's request, threw up her veil, the paleness of her cheek and
the traces of recent tears appealed to Isabel's heart with more success
than had attended all the pious invectives of Torquemada.
"Maiden," said Isabel, encouragingly, "I fear thou hast been strangely
harassed by the thoughtless caprice of the young prince. Think of it no
more. But, if thou art what I have ventured to believe, and to assert
thee to be, cheerfully subscribe to the means I will suggest for
preventing the continuance of addresses which cannot but injure thy fair
name."
"Ah, madam!" said Leila, as she fell on one knee beside the queen, "most
joyfully, most gratefully, will I accept any asylum which proffers
solitude and peace."
"The asylum to which I would fain lead thy steps," answered Isabel,
gently, "is indeed one whose solitude is holy--whose peace is that of
heaven. But of this hereafter. Thou wilt not hesitate, then, to quit
the camp, unknown to the prince, and ere he can again seek thee?"
"Hesitate, madam? Ah rather, how shall I express my thanks?"
"I did not read that face misjudgingly," thought the queen, as she
resumed. "Be it so; we will not lose another night. Withdraw yonder,
through the inner tent; the litter shall be straight prepared for thee;
and ere midnight thou shalt sleep in safety under the roof of one of the
bravest knights and noblest ladies that our realm can boast. Thou shalt
bear with thee a letter that shall commend thee specially to the care of
thy hostess--thou wilt find her of a kindly and fostering nature. And,
oh, maiden!" added the queen, with benevolent warmth, "steel not thy
heart against her--listen with ductile senses to her gentle ministry; and
may God and His Son prosper that pious lady's counsel, so that it may win
a new strayling to the Immortal Fold!"
Leila listened and wondered, but made no answer; until, as she gained the
entrance to the interior division of the tent, she stopped abruptly, and
said, "Pardon me, gracious queen, but dare I ask thee one question?--it
is not of myself."
"Speak, and fear not."
"My father--hath aught been heard of him? He promised, that ere the
fifth day were past, he would once more see his child; and, alas! that
date is past, and I am still alone in the dwelling of the stranger."
"Unhappy child!" muttered Isabel to herself; "thou knowest not his
treason nor his fate--yet why shouldst thou? Ignorant of what would
render thee blest hereafter, continue ignorant of what would afflict thee
here. Be cheered, maiden," answered the queen, aloud. "No doubt, there
are reasons sufficient to forbid your meeting. But thou shalt not lack
friends in the dwelling-house of the stranger."
"Ah, noble queen, pardon me, and one word more! There hath been with me,
more than once, a stern old man, whose voice freezes the blood within my
veins; he questions me of my father, and in the tone of a foe who would
entrap from the child something to the peril of the sire. That man--thou
knowest him, gracious queen--he cannot have the power to harm my father?"
"Peace, maiden! the man thou speakest of is the priest of God, and the
innocent have nothing to dread from his reverend zeal. For thyself, I
say again, be cheered; in the home to which I consign thee thou wilt see
him no more. Take comfort, poor child--weep not: all have their cares;
our duty is to bear in this life, reserving hope only for the next."
The queen, destined herself to those domestic afflictions which pomp
cannot soothe, nor power allay, spoke with a prophetic sadness which yet
more touched a heart that her kindness of look and tone had already
softened; and, in the impulse of a nature never tutored in the rigid
ceremonials of that stately court, Leila suddenly came forward, and
falling on one knee, seized the hand of her protectress, and kissed it
warmly through her tears.
"Are you, too, unhappy?" she said. "I will pray for you to _my_ God!"
The queen, surprised and moved at an action which, had witnesses been
present, would only perhaps (for such is human nature) have offended her
Castilian prejudices, left her hand in Leila's grateful clasp; and laying
the other upon the parted and luxuriant ringlets of the kneeling maiden,
said, gently,--"And thy prayers shall avail thee and me when thy God and
mine are the same. Bless thee, maiden! I am a mother; thou art
motherless--bless thee!"
