"LI E) RARY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLR5ITY 
 Of ILLINOIS 

 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2009 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/legendromanceafr01john
 
 LEGEND AND ROMANCE
 
 Printed by Samuel Bcntley, Dorset Street, Fleet Street.
 
 LEGEND AND ROMANCE, 
 
 AFRICAN AND EUROPEAN. 
 
 BY RICHARD JOHNS, 
 
 LIEUT. KOVAI, MAKIXE.s. 
 
 lis; THREE VOLUMES, 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 
 1840.
 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In these Legends the Author attempts to 
 embody some small portion of the romance 
 incidental to the connection between Europe 
 and Africa. 
 
 The descriptions of localities introduced are 
 either from his personal observation, or the 
 unpublished authority of greater voyagers than 
 he pretends to be, who have kindly assisted 
 him in his topography. 
 
 With reference to Western Africa, scenes 
 are laid among pirates and slave-dealers, which, 
 it is to be regretted, cannot introduce more 
 respectable dramatis persona; but such only 
 were the characters lent by Europe to these
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 coasts, till Great Britain commenced her efforts 
 for the abolition of the slave-trade : efforts 
 which, it is to be hoped, will at length be 
 successful, and then brighter days may dawn 
 on Africa's unhappy shores ; but such as they 
 were during the periods referred to, has been 
 portrayed, so far as necessary for the illus- 
 tration of the Legends. 
 
 The history of Sebastian King of Portugal 
 is involved in much obscurity by the contra- 
 dictory statements of contemporary historians; 
 but the Author, with deference, suggests that 
 the ground he has taken is fully as capable 
 of defence as of assault ; though he means not, 
 by such assertion, to throw down the gauntlet 
 to those who would unmercifully sift the his- 
 torical gatherings of a poor story-teller, in the 
 hope of finding them chaff. Dom Luis de 
 Montoyo has, for the purposes of the narra- 
 tive, been made the tutor, when he was, in 
 point of fact, the confessor of Sebastian ; 
 but in all other matters, even to the intro-
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 duction of the orange-tree into Portugal by 
 Camoens, if the Author be contradicted bv 
 one chronicler, be finds himself supported bv 
 another ; and often left \nth so clear a stage 
 for conjecture, that he feels himself fairly 
 entitled to take up the position which pleases 
 him best. 
 
 A much admired authoress, Miss Porter, has 
 founded a popular romance on the history of 
 Sebastian ; but the writer of the present tale 
 trusts that his treatment of the subject will 
 secure him from the charge of plagiarism. 
 
 Desirous of avoiding the affectation of notes 
 to so trifling a work as the present, and wish- 
 ing to be exempted from the severity of criti- 
 cism with regard to data, the writer must 
 make a few appeals to the recollection of the 
 reader, before introducing to his notice the 
 last story, *' Vata, the Leveller of Altars." 
 The Druids of ancient Britain are supposed 
 by some to have led a life of celibacy. He pre- 
 sumes, on the insufficiency of proof, as regard?
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 this point, to imagine that, in a community 
 where the laity held their wives in common, 
 so rigid a continence was not likely to have 
 existed among a priesthood originally patri- 
 archal; particularly as of three orders of 
 Druidesses one only was devoted to a species 
 of monastic seclusion ; the two other classes 
 attended on the Druids, the lowest grade 
 performing for them the most servile and 
 familiar offices. Having thus deprecated the 
 censure of antiquaries in this particular, the 
 Author would now account for his having 
 blended the doctrine of deism with the fan- 
 tastic machinery of heathen polytheism in 
 the conversations between the characters in- 
 troduced, by reminding the curious in these 
 matters that the former was the secret religion 
 of the Druids, the latter considered by them 
 as fables fitted to the comprehension of the 
 people. 
 
 With reference to another part of this story, 
 it may be remembered that the infant sacri-
 
 PREFACE. VU 
 
 fices of the Carthaginians at the altar of 
 Moloch, called forth the reprobation even of 
 heathen writers. The worship of the living 
 serpent is an idolatry, the tradition of which 
 claims for it an antiquity before the flood ; 
 that of the brazeji appears to have been grafted 
 thereon after the raising of that symbol by 
 Moses in the Wilderness. 
 
 One more exculpatory suggestion, and the 
 reader will not be further troubled on mat- 
 ters of little moment. 
 
 The decided volcanic formation of many of 
 the Western African Islands proves the fact 
 of some ancient combustion in that quarter 
 of the globe, and the author imagines that in 
 working out his story he has not made any 
 very great geological blunder, 
 
 H.M.S. Howe, — Sheerness. 
 Jan. 1839
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL 
 
 i VOL. I.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE QUINTA. 
 
 The waters of the Tagus were hurrying past 
 the ancient castle of Belem, while the roaring 
 waves at the mouth of the harbour seemed 
 angrily demanding that tribute which the obe- 
 dient current was hastening to pay. The 
 sun had but just set, and its glories lingered 
 behind the blue mountains of Cintra, like a 
 realm of light hidden from the eye of man 
 by the shadows of earth ; when a small four- 
 oared boat made its rapid way along the 
 Alemtejo side of the river. Not content wtih 
 
 B 2
 
 4 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 the speed lent to their course by the rushing 
 tide, the rowers had pulled strongly from an 
 obscure landing-place at the bridge of Alcan- 
 tara ; and, apparently shunning observation, 
 kept apart from other barks, till, suddenly 
 dashing in-shore, they disappeared up a narrow 
 creek that ran beside the dilapidated walls of a 
 small tower. Here, lost to the sight of any 
 curious eye that might have been watching 
 their movements from the Tagus, two Fi- 
 dalgos, for such their garb betokened them, 
 pushed aside the curtained awning at the stern 
 of the boat, and, both rising, one obsequiously 
 offered the assistance of his arm to his com- 
 panion, — a courtesy rejected with some asperity 
 of manner. 
 
 "An ill-timed compliment, Dom Christovao !" 
 in an under-tone remarked the taller stranger, 
 who studiously kept his person enveloped in 
 his cloak; a fold of which, thrown over the 
 shoulder, concealed the face of the speaker. 
 This reproof was received with a deferential 
 but somewhat haughty bow by the nobleman 
 addressed, who turned to give orders to the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 5 
 
 boatmen, while his companion proceeded alone 
 towards a thicket of neglected vines which skirt- 
 ed a vineyard, on the borders of which they had 
 disembarked. 
 
 Ere the stranger had entered on the more 
 cultivated ground which rose gradually from 
 the banks of the river, Dom Christovao again 
 joined him, and with a silver call sounded a 
 shrill whistle ; a signal answered by the ap- 
 proach of two powerful barbs, led by Moorish 
 grooms. These noble animals came prancing 
 and curvetting down the broad path of the 
 vineyard, spurning the control of long reins 
 pendent from heavy iron bits which they 
 champed with impatience ; and their richly- 
 ornamented trappings clashed noisily as the tall 
 steeds tossed their heads, almost lifting their 
 leaders from the earth. Dom Christovao was 
 the first to spring into the saddle; and the 
 horse he bestrode, evidently knowing him, 
 became in an instant obedient to command. 
 Holding a tight rein, the young nobleman 
 watched with much interest the mounting 
 of his companion, which promised to be a
 
 6 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 matter of greater difficulty. The black charger 
 allotted him reared almost on its haunches, 
 threatening to brain the grooms, who were now 
 both endeavouring to bring the fiery animal 
 into subjection ; while he for whom the steed 
 was designed stood admiringly regarding the 
 scene, either willing to prolong the struggle, 
 or doubtful if it were yet safe to put foot into 
 the stirrup. 
 
 '' The Senhor Abrantes is, I trust, at length 
 convinced that it is impossible to back that in- 
 tractable beast ; he had nearly corrupted by 
 his evil communication my docile Azim," said 
 Dom Christovao, patting the neck of his horse, 
 and hesitating as he spoke, as though fearful 
 of giving offence. " If the Senhor will permit 
 me to dismount, I will resign my seat to him ; 
 other barbs are in attendance at the head of 
 the vineyard." 
 
 " Dom Christovao de Montoyo," angrily re- 
 sponded the stranger we now introduce by the 
 name of Abrantes, " ^thon was brought here 
 at my express desire. Keep your saddle, Sen- 
 hor ; you have not belied his character : but
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 7 
 
 this evening will I ride him, and, the holy 
 saints be our help, bring down his spirit. 
 Nor man nor beast shall — " 
 
 Here, suddenly checking the exclamation 
 that was about to escape him, he stepped aside 
 discarded his cloak, broke the loop of his hat, 
 and slouched it over his face ; while, further to 
 conceal his features, he passed a sash across 
 the crown, knotting it beneath his chin. With 
 the most reckless daring he now dashed at the 
 enraged animal, which had just borne one of 
 the grooms to the earth ; and ere the man, who 
 was but little hurt, had time to rise, Abrantes 
 was in the saddle, had leaped the horse over 
 the prostrate Moor, and, striking the sharp iron 
 of the stirrups into the flanks of the maddened 
 beast, he tore up the vineyard. 
 
 " The saints will indeed have enough to do 
 if they preserve him !'* muttered Dom Chris- 
 tovao to himself, when, ascertaining that his 
 servant was not killed, he followed the track of 
 the venturous horseman. 
 
 On leaving the immediate neig-hbourhood 
 of the river, the road for some distance was
 
 8 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 rugged and undefined ; here the Senhor looked 
 in vain for his former companion : but a quarter 
 of an hour^s hard riding brought him to a more 
 level and open country, where he descried the 
 cavalier, whom he had expected ere then to 
 have found unhorsed on the road, careering at 
 full speed round a large cork-tree, which served 
 the "rough-rider" as a centre wherewith to 
 mark his circus of exercise. 
 
 "Behold the wild horse tamed!" exclaimed 
 he, perceiving Montoyo, and galloping towards 
 him. ^thon was completely mastered, co- 
 vered with foam, and panting with distended 
 nostril. " On, Christovao, on !" continued the 
 excited Abrantes, once more taking the lead 
 at a pace which the noble Azim, though 
 yielding in fleetness to few barbs, found it 
 difficult to emulate, and which precluded all 
 conversation between the horsemen. 
 
 This desperate riding in about half an hour 
 brought our travellers to an ancient Quinta, 
 which, seen in the shadows of evening, now 
 falling on every object, seemed of great magni- 
 tude, but in reality was indebted for this ap-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 9 
 
 pearance to the raised terrace on either side, 
 which branched from a building of moderate 
 proportions, and terminating in treilised ar- 
 bours overlooking the road. 
 
 As the strangers advanced, a shadowy form 
 might have been perceived gliding from one of 
 these observatories, as if their coming had been 
 watched for ; and, ere they had reached the por- 
 tals of the Quinta, the gates were opened for 
 their admittance, and servants were in readiness 
 to take their horses. A grey-headed domestic, 
 whom the cavaliers greeted by the name of 
 Jose, ushered Abrantes and Montoyo across a 
 court-yard, and through an antechamber, into a 
 saloon illuminated by tapers in massive can- 
 delabra ; their light reflected by long mirrors 
 deeply set in the dark wainscot panelling of 
 the walls. Elaborately carved mouldings, and 
 cornices richly gilt, relieved the sombre magni- 
 ficence of the apartment ; at the end of which 
 several small fountains played, in mimicry of 
 columns supporting a cumbrous side-table of 
 marble, — its white and veinless slab bearing 
 preparation for the evening repast. Two 
 
 B 5
 
 10 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 maidens, whose individual loveliness was 
 heightened by the contrast they afforded to 
 each other, awaited their expected guests, 
 under the apparent guardianship of an ancient 
 lady, diminutive in form, and of sallow cheek, 
 that had long bidden adieu to the bloom of 
 youth, but which just then exhibited a high co- 
 louring, arising from a perturbation strongly 
 resembling anger. 
 
 Donna Beatrice, who, by the courtesy due to 
 gentle blood, first demands the exercise of our 
 descriptive powers, was so exquisitely fair that 
 she might have been supposed a native of our 
 northern clime : nor need her dark hazel eyes, 
 and the deep brown of her clustering tresses, 
 which gave light and shade to features of the 
 strictest Grecian outline, have broken the illu- 
 sion ; for what is there of beauty on earth that 
 does not blend in the loveliness of our fair 
 countrywomen ? Her stature was that happy 
 medium which, though considered short in 
 man, gives to a female the extreme height 
 which does not entitle its possessor to the un- 
 enviable distinction of being designated a tall
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 11 
 
 woman ; and her form, which was roundly 
 moulded, well became her costume. She wore 
 a dress of rich black silk, with full sleeves 
 of the fairest lawn, confined at the wrists with 
 broad bracelets of jet. Falling around the 
 upper part of her closely-fitting bodice was a 
 kind of half pelerine, also of fine lawn, em- 
 broidered in delicate needle-work, leaving the 
 snowy neck uncovered, and descending in a 
 point to the waist: here hung a string of cu- 
 riously wrought beads, to which was attached a 
 cross of plain gold, — the most elaborate toilet 
 being incomplete without these ever ready in- 
 centives to Catholic devotion. 
 
 In the companion of the Donna were seen the 
 clear olive complexion of a Moorish maiden; 
 hair that emulated in its glossy blackness the 
 raven's wing ; dark eyes, lustrous with the fire 
 of an impassioned soul ; while the slight aqui- 
 line of the nose, the pouting ruby of the lip, 
 and rounded chin gently swelling over the deep 
 throat, gave a voluptuous expression to her 
 truly oriental beauty. She was attired in a 
 dress of bright purple cachemire, relieved by
 
 12 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 coloured embroidery round the skirt and 
 bodice ; the flowing sleeves fastened at the 
 wrists by golden bands, and a rich girdle 
 wrought of blue and gold cord gathered the 
 folds of drapery at her waist. Scarcely so tall 
 as Beatrice, her form w^as more fully developed ; 
 and this made her appear much the senior of 
 her patroness ; though, of nearly equal age, 
 neither of the friends had yet attained eighteen 
 years. We call them friends, since friends in- 
 deed they were in all the equality of friendship. 
 The Senhora Juana Saltero was much scanda- 
 lized on this account ; for Zuma was in point 
 of fact a slave, having been captured by the 
 father of Donna Beatrice in Barbary when a 
 mere child, and had continued from that period 
 the companion of her young mistress, who re- 
 garded her as a sister rather than a dependant. 
 Having thus introduced the ladies of our 
 dramatis personae to the reader, we are remind- 
 ed that earlier acquaintance still remain unde- 
 scribed. The stranger, who had before appeared 
 so anxious to preserve his incognito, now dis- 
 played a tall, graceful, but firmly knit form : his
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 13 
 
 features were strongly marked, and command- 
 ing in expression ; while any harshness that 
 might be detected in the bold outline of the 
 face was redeemed by the broad high forehead 
 and full blue eye of the handsome cavalier. 
 His companion, Dom Christovao de Montoyo, 
 was shorter, but well-proportioned for his sta- 
 ture : his dark eyes glanced from beneath brows 
 which, meeting above his finely arched nose, 
 disfigured a face otherwise good-looking ; and 
 the smile that lighted up the deep olive of his 
 complexion, had to the eye of the physiogno- 
 mist a sinister expression in its very brightness. 
 We are writing of a courtier in the sixteenth 
 century ; and, if such smiles are rife now-a-days, 
 may we be exonerated from the charge of tak- 
 ing from the present to people the past ! The 
 material world changes but on its surface, — its 
 depths remain the same for ages : thus, in the 
 moral world, manners and customs may be 
 fashioned anew ; but man, in all his essential 
 attributes, continues unaltered. 
 
 On the entrance of the Senhors, the Donna 
 Beatrice received Christovao with the fond em-
 
 14 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 brace of a sister, for such was her relationship 
 to him ; but, ere the customary salutations of 
 familiar intercourse were generally exchanged, 
 the Senhora Juana, who, as we have hinted be- 
 fore, seemed to be rather excited by some recent 
 vexation, hastened to disclose the cause of her 
 disquietude. 
 
 " I appeal to you," said the agitated Duenna, 
 fluttering her fan as if endeavouring to keep 
 time with the rapidity of her utterance, — "I 
 appeal to you both ; to you, Dom Christovao 
 de Montoyo, the head of the honourable house 
 of that name since the deaih of our revered 
 lord and now beatified saint Dom Louis de 
 Montoyo, — and to you, Senhor Abrantes, the 
 friend of the family of our deceased lord, (to 
 whom the holy mother of Heaven give grace and 
 glory I) and chosen companion of Dom Chris- 
 tovao, our present Marquis, (whom the blessed 
 host of heaven have in their holy keeping !) — 
 yes ! Senhors, I appeal to you, and ask if it be 
 maidenly and proper that there should be a 
 watching in an arbour and a racing on a ter- 
 race at this time of evening (I may say night),
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 15 
 
 and an ordering to open gates, and an inatten- 
 tion to the respect due to a Senhora of some 
 consideration and attainments, and skill in em- 
 broidery and all other lady-like accomplish- 
 ments, merely because a young nobleman 
 brings a friend with him from the city of 
 Lisboa ?" 
 
 The cavaliers, who were used to these little 
 bursts of temper on the part of the Duenna, 
 good-naturedly attempted to soothe the offend- 
 ed little lady : the culprit needed not to be 
 named, for Zuma's tell-tale cheeks were suffus- 
 ed with blushes. She looked beseechingly at 
 Beatrice, who readily came to her assistance. 
 
 " Indeed, my dear Duenna I you are too 
 harsh with Zuma. We were all anxiously ex- 
 pecting our guest and my brother. If it were 
 only that their late arrival caused a delay in 
 our evening repast, this might plead with you 
 for Zuma's impatience ; but five minutes since, 
 you wished to the saints that Dom Christovao 
 would remember our hour of refection was sun- 
 set, and not midnight !'' 
 
 It was now the Senhora's turn for embarrass-
 
 16 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ment. Having acted as Duenna for two gene- 
 rations in the family, she managed to rule the 
 whole establishment with a rod of iron ; but it 
 was seldom she permitted herself to impugn 
 any measure emanating from the sacred head of 
 the house of Montoyo for the time being : such 
 a dereliction of duty and respect, even in so im- 
 portant a person as herself, approaching in her 
 estimation to crime ; though she boasted a con- 
 sanguinity with the present lord not more than 
 twenty times removed. Her distress, however, 
 was unheeded : the old lady was about to com- 
 mence an exculpatory reply, parenthetical, as 
 was her wont, of blessings on the family, when 
 she perceived that the young people were too 
 much engaged in their communications with each 
 other to promise an attentive auditory. The 
 Senhora therefore contented herself by the half 
 utterance of a sort of murmuring apology to 
 Dom Christovao ; and then, making a sign for 
 Jose''s approach, he having been in waiting at 
 the end of the saloon, she very audibly scolded 
 him for not at once announcing that supper was 
 in readiness.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 17 
 
 It was much to the Duenna's satisfaction 
 when the party seated themselves on low 
 couches placed on either side the marljle table, 
 where fruits, wines, and confections, served on 
 salvers massively but coarsely wrought, in- 
 vited appetite. The little fountains, as they 
 played in their shell-shaped basins, cooled the 
 hot air with their refreshing spray ; while the 
 flame of the tapers scarcely bent to the evening 
 breeze from the distant windows : these open- 
 ed on a shrubbery, where the pale moon, rising 
 above the trees, now shed a stream of light on 
 leaf and blossom. Old Jose was the only 
 attendant ; and here were assembled, under the 
 mask of ingenuous seeming, hearts whose every 
 throb laboured at the concealment of their real 
 feelings. 
 
 Were we bent on carrying our present nar- 
 rative through three goodly volumes in place 
 of compressing its details into one, we might 
 be tempted to moralize during the remainder 
 of the chapter. Without imputing duplicity 
 to our readers, we would ask if they have 
 not joined in social circles where after-expe-
 
 18 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 rience has proved that conscience, a severe 
 though silent accuser, must have been busy 
 with the hearts of those whom to doubt then 
 would have been considered treason against 
 the truth of man. Though an attempt was 
 occasionally made at general conversation, — 
 that most difficult form of colloquial intercourse, 
 — there was a restraint among the party, which 
 to the close observer might hav'e told of minds 
 ill at ease. It was apparent that Christovao was 
 anxious to commend his sister to the attentions 
 of Abrantes ; but neither the Senhor nor the 
 Senhora seemed to have that bearing towards 
 each other which could satisfy the brother 
 that the mutual feeling he wished to encourage 
 actually existed. The regards of his friend 
 were often wholly withdrawn from Donna 
 Beatrice, and admiringly fixed on the Moorish 
 girl, who certainly appeared the most cheerful 
 of the circle, except when her bright eyes 
 caught the cold and suspicious gaze of her 
 patron Christovao ; she would then, as if 
 shrinking within herself, falter in the expres- 
 sion of some playful remark and be silent.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 19 
 
 Again called into conversation, she watched 
 for his approving smile ; and, this obtained, 
 once more was she happy. 
 
 " You never sing now, Zuma, as you were 
 wont to do when first Montoyo brought me 
 to this abode of beauty," said Abrantes ; and, 
 though his eye glanced towards Beatrice, it 
 returned to the beaming face of the Moorish 
 maid, even including the Senhora Saltero in 
 the circuit of its regard, who evidently took 
 her full share of the compliment. 
 
 '* I will sing if you wish it, and Dom Chris- 
 tovao permits. But the Donna Beatrice sings ; 
 — oh ! how much rather would I hear her !" 
 
 This was said in sincerity by the unaffected 
 girl, who was fondly attached to her protec- 
 tress, and cared little to display her own 
 natural accomplishments. 
 
 '* The Donna will then perhaps sing to us ?'''' 
 responded the Fidalgo, turning to their fair 
 hostess. 
 
 '' Most willingly, if Zuma will commence 
 when I cease." And here looks were exchang- 
 ed between Beatrice and Abrantes, which called
 
 so LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 * forth one of Christovao's most expressive smiles 
 as he rose from his seat and placed a lute in 
 his sister's hands. 
 
 " Holy mother of Heaven !" cried the Sen- 
 hora Saltero, snatching the instrument away 
 with a violence against which its every chord 
 appealed in a burst of vibration. " Blessed 
 saints ! have you forgotten, Donna Beatrice, 
 the penance Padre Chaves imposed on you at 
 my request for going to sleep when I was read- 
 ing you a homily ? You are not to touch lute, 
 or sing song, for this week to come." 
 
 " Forgive me, dear Duenna," replied Beatrice, 
 smiling amiably; " I had indeed forgotten ;" and, 
 again taking the instrument from the hands of 
 the Senhora, she transferred it to Zuma, who, 
 after a wild and plaintive symphony, sang in a 
 rich soprano a Moorish ballad. 
 
 A Moorish girl, in her silent bower, 
 Watch'd for the sun, as a broken flower 
 Looks for the glow of that beaming ray 
 Which comes to heal, or to haste decay. 
 
 For a knight of Christian chivalry 
 
 That morn would die by her sire's decree ; 
 
 Or claim, as a recreant renegade, 
 
 The trembling hand of the Moorish maid.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. ^1 
 
 The sun is up in the sapphire sky, 
 But it comes to see how a knight can die : 
 And true in life to the " harem's pride," 
 As true in death to his faith, he died ! 
 
 A gem is borne to the silent bower, — 
 To her who droop'd like a dying flower : 
 That little cross has a crimson stain. 
 The parting gift of the Christian slain. 
 
 The " harem's pride " has that fatal token 
 Press'd to a heart that is crush'd and broken ; 
 And the Houries weep for a sister's loss, — 
 She died in the faith of the Holy Cross ! 
 
 As the strain ceased, Christovao approached 
 Zuma. whose eyes were full of tears, so com- 
 pletely did she feel the tale of sorrow she had 
 been singing. Leading her aside, he thanked 
 her for the pleasure she had given him, and 
 afforded opportunity for a ^ew words of almost 
 whispered conference between Beatrice and 
 Abrantes. It might have referred to Zuma's 
 ballad, or to matters of deeper import ; but 
 as the Senhora Saltero, though she anxiously 
 listened, could not discover the subject of this 
 conversation, we intend that it shall remain a 
 secret for the present, not feeling called upon 
 to commit ourselves by a breach of confidence.
 
 22 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 It yet wanted an hour to midnight when 
 the horses were ordered. The cavaliers again 
 mounted, the Senhor Abrantes now consenting 
 to ride a quieter animal than the wild barb 
 which had brought him to the Quinta; and 
 beneath the broad light of the full moon they 
 kept their noble coursers at speed, till they 
 once more reached the banks of the river, 
 where their boat was in waiting to retrace 
 its course towards the bridge of Alcantara.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 23 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE PADRE. 
 
 There is a little village, midway between 
 the banks of the Tagus and the river Sado, 
 now fallen into decay, but, at the time of 
 which we write, boasting many houses in its 
 long straggling street, together with a very 
 respectable chapel, the ruins of which may 
 yet be traced. The Padre who served this 
 cure was confessor to the Montoyo family, 
 and an especial favourite with the Senhora 
 Saltero. 
 
 He lived in a commodious dwelling at the 
 entrance of the hamlet ; for, though a frequent 
 guest at the Quinta, no inducement could per- 
 suade him altogether to take up his abode 
 there. His predecessor had been a sort of
 
 24 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 resident chaplain to the old Marquis, who, 
 during the latter years of his life, was himself 
 a religieux : but Padre Chaves, when through 
 court influence he was recommended to the 
 notice of Dom Christovao, held the cure of a 
 neighbouring village ; which not being more 
 than a mile from the Quinta, he performed 
 the duties of his new appointment without 
 resigning the comforts of a private establish- 
 ment. 
 
 " No ! no ! — I want no resident confessor- 
 ship," soliloquized the ruddy-faced and portly 
 priest, one evening about a week after our nar- 
 rative commences, as he was seated in his sanc- 
 tum, which overlooked the street, without per- 
 mitting curious eyes to watch the Padre at 
 his devotions. This was an ejaculation of 
 thankfulness for freedom of action, often drawn 
 from him when, as at that moment, deep in 
 the enjoyment of a flow of soul invited by a 
 second magnum of " sacrificio." Bottles and a 
 drinking-cup were before the happy church- 
 man, on a little round table not more rotund 
 than the goodly paunch which half- rested
 
 SEBASTIAN 09 PORTUGAL. 25 
 
 thereon ; and with such concomitants Padre 
 Chaves felt himself at home, and blessed the 
 comfortable feeling. 
 
 Though indulging thus in solitude and soli- 
 loquy, our new acquaintance was not a lonely 
 man : his niece, who most assiduously managed 
 his household, had only just gone out on a 
 gossiping visit to a few of her neighbours, and 
 would be back ere long. The worthy Padre 
 was not at all impatient for her return ; she 
 exercising an authority over him not much to 
 his liking, and which might just then greatly 
 interfere with the continuance of his tranquil 
 enjoyment. But was she not his niece, — the 
 child of his defunct sister ? — the arrival of 
 whose orphan at his abode had recalled, as he 
 said, the memory of a dear relative, — though 
 his most familiar acquaintance had never heard 
 mention of her before. Padre Chaves was not 
 a man to contend with a poor weak woman, 
 except for the immediate good of her soul ; 
 and Marguerita was too pretty withal to be 
 denied his ghostly protection, he having a 
 great fear that she might go wrong without 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 his guidance. Such were, no doubt, the Padre''s 
 reasons for surrendering so quietly much of the 
 freedom which a residence under a roof, solely 
 his, might have secured him ; and it was gene- 
 rally when the niece went forth to tattle with 
 her village gossips that the reverend uncle 
 found it most convenient to retire to his room. 
 
 " Holy St. Bernard ! who can want me now?" 
 cried the Padre, as he replaced on the table a 
 cup of wine, which he had but that moment 
 raised to his lips. A smart knocking at the 
 door of the house, as with the handle of a 
 whip, had caused this surprising act of forbear- 
 ance. Thus disturbed, he prepared to meet 
 the intruder, who, he soon found, had obtain- 
 ed admittance below. 
 
 The stairs creaked under the weight of the 
 ponderous priest as he descended till he could 
 get a convenient view of the passage leading 
 to the door, where his boy Antoine had just 
 given entrance to a saucy-looking varlet, Avhose 
 whole bearing betokened him the follower of 
 some noble about the court. Loose was his 
 jerkin, and tight at the knees were his hose;
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 27 
 
 many were the buttons, and thick the fringe 
 of silken cord, which bedizened him ; while 
 his beaver, set jauntily on one side the head, 
 sported a small feather in a loop of gold. 
 
 " And is it thou, Nicolao ?" exclaimed the 
 Padre, as soon as he caught a full view of the 
 visitor : ** the holy St. Pedro welcome thee 
 above, as freely as I do now ! Up with thee, 
 — up with thee, my son ; thou art no stranger 
 here :" and, thus saying, the priest retraced 
 his steps, quickly followed by the friend he 
 had so familiarly greeted ; who, as he took 
 three stairs at a stride, arrived at the sanctum 
 just as the august form of his host had cleared 
 its portal. 
 
 " So ho ! father,'^ shouted the laughing 
 Nicolao, as he caught sight of the solitary wine- 
 cup and attendant bottles ; " thou telPst thy 
 beads on rosy brimmers, in place of other 
 rosaries : commend me to such worship !'*'' 
 
 " Thou art a profane and graceless jester," 
 replied the Padre, taking a second cup and a 
 third bottle from a closet ; " but I suppose I 
 must bear with thee, for thou servest a 
 
 c 2
 
 28 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Fidalgo of a court as zealous in the cause of 
 holy church as can be found in Christendom. 
 Dom Sebastian is a goodly — a godly prince; 
 and, though he has lately distrusted the 
 Jesuits, he conlinueth in the true faith as to 
 all -- other orders of our priesthood; hateth 
 Turks and Infidels too with a most pious 
 fervour, though civil to Jews and Heretics 
 withal, which is a weakness. But I am not 
 going to read thee a homily ; I warrant thy 
 new master is a good Christian since he is 
 about the King, and his grace must cover tJiy 
 gracelessness. There, sit thee down, and 
 over a cup of wine tell me the courtly news : 
 but no scandal, my son ! — I will not hear 
 scandal ! — 'Tis said the King is not such a 
 roisterer among the Donnas as his great-uncle 
 Dom Duarte ; and yet there are whispers, that 
 love in another quarter, and that light of its 
 kind, has influenced Sebastian's refusal of a 
 bevy of princesses." 
 
 Nicolao, who had been regarding the priest 
 with the leering, twinkling eye and curled lip
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 1^9 
 
 of ironical admiration, now interrupted his 
 disquisition on the morals of royalty with a 
 most unceremonious laugh. 
 
 " Thou art doubtless a most incurious 
 Padre about court scandal,'^ said he ; " and it 
 is well thy lot has just now fallen on one who 
 would not for the world shock thy chaste ear 
 with idle gallantries :"* then putting on a grave 
 countenance, which was ludicrous in the saucy 
 Nicolao from its very gravity, he continued : 
 " No, Padre Chaves ; I am come to your 
 priestship on a matter very different in its 
 character from such impure passages in court 
 history. Marriage, father, — the holy sacra- 
 ment of marriage ! that inimitable invention of 
 our great progenitor Adam, who most con- 
 sistently was faithful to one woman, seeing 
 that there was no other just then to make 
 him fail in his truth. — Yes ! immaculate 
 churchman ! I want you to join in the holy 
 trammels of matrimony a Senhor who values 
 your services so highly that he means to give 
 you the blessed privilege of bestowing some-
 
 30 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 where about fifty pieces of gold on any chari- 
 table object, lay or clerical, which may interest 
 so sapient a Padre as yourself." 
 
 Here Nicolao drew forth a heavy bag, and 
 placed it before him on the table ; while the 
 priest's eyes actually gloated on the canvass 
 which contained so much treasure. In imagi- 
 nation he had already bestowed it on a most 
 deserving object, at least in his own opinion ; 
 certainly no one wanted it more than the 
 Padre Chaves, and to his purposes he resolved 
 it should be devoted. Thus cogitating, he 
 quietly said, 
 
 " Speak out, Nicolao ; who is this pious son 
 of the church ? — and when and where is the 
 marriage to be performed ? There are diffi- 
 culties, I doubt not ; yet charity to the needy is 
 too holy an act not to propitiate the saints in 
 giving the wishes of their hearts to those who 
 seek them after such a goodly fashion : but 
 how can thy master, Dom Abrantes, spare thee 
 from attendance on his person, to run the 
 errands of another ?" 
 
 " As to my master sparing me," said the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL, 31 
 
 servitor, Avith an air of swaggering indepen- 
 dence as he helped himself to a cup of wine, 
 " the hours we have passed over the bottle 
 together have not been in his company, I 
 think ; so you need not wonder at his dis- 
 pensing with my presence for a while. But this 
 is nothing to the purpose ; that is my affair, 
 yours is to perform the marriage. You were 
 right in supposing that it was not just to pro- 
 nounce a nuptial benediction at the high-altar 
 at Belem, or the cathedral of Lisboa, which 
 would earn you fifty pieces. You have not 
 forgotten your court education, I perceive ; so 
 now I will just tell you what you will have to 
 do for the pious gratification of distributing 
 this purse of gold to the needy. To-morrow 
 night be in the chapel of " Our Lady of the 
 Miracle," in the glen of the Arabida, at the 
 third hour after vespers. Let no light be on 
 the altar : the single lamp that ever hangs 
 above it will suffice to show you those you 
 have to marry. Ask no questions, but per- 
 form the ceremony as quickly as possible ; and 
 then," cried Nicolao. raising his voice, and
 
 3^ LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 slapping the Padre on the back as he at once 
 dismissed the serious air of dictation with 
 which he had been speaking, — *' then, Padre 
 Chaves ! hie thee home, looking neither to the 
 right nor to the left ; or thou mayest get a 
 cudgel across thy holy shoulders, as thou didst 
 when first I had the honour of making thy 
 acquaintance, saving thee, as I did then, from 
 being murdered by the miller for" — 
 
 — " Confessing his wife at unseasonablehours,*" 
 hastily interrupted the confessor : " not a word 
 more, my son ! I do own that appearances 
 were a little against me in the matter you 
 speak of ; I was inj udicious in choosing so late 
 a period of the evening : but we will dismiss 
 the subject. You will allow I have proved 
 my prudence in all affairs the gallants of the 
 court have entrusted me with ; come, tell me 
 who is the Senhora ? I suspect your master is 
 the Senhor I am to oblige." 
 
 " Trouble not yourself with such suspicions, 
 Padre; the less you know on this head the 
 better : so ask no questions, and it may save 
 you from mischief."
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 33 
 
 " Doubtless, doubtless," smoothly responded 
 the priest, at this warning from his friend. 
 " Only, I pray thee, tell me one thing ; will 
 there not be another bag of gold when the 
 marriage is over ? " 
 
 Nicolao now seemed to have lost all patience 
 with his host. " Thou most unconscionable 
 Padre !" shouted he ; "I tell thee no. There ! 
 take this bag, and bless thy stars it holds so 
 much." Then, moderating his tone, he con- 
 tinued : '* One more bottle, friend, and I must 
 go ; so let us speak of this little affair no 
 more, and drink our wine in peace. Dost ever 
 call at the miller's now ? " 
 
 " For shame — for shame, my son ! I like 
 not such vain discourse. The boy shall bring 
 us lights, and I will get thee a flask of the 
 best; though thou dost abuse the licence I 
 give thee." 
 
 Thus saying. Padre Chaves bestowed his 
 gold in the cupboard, whence he drew the 
 promised magnum. Two tapers were brought 
 to the door, but no further, — the priest re- 
 ceiving and placing them on a side-table: 
 
 c5
 
 34 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 then, reseating himself, he remarked with evi- 
 dent satisfaction as he sunk back into his chair, 
 " My niece is late abroad to-night ; close thou 
 the shutters, Nicolao." 
 
 This task being readily performed by the 
 obedient guest, " the boon companions" recom- 
 menced their wine. The servitor, despite his 
 threat of staying but for one bottle more, was 
 easily persuaded to see out another, and an- 
 other ; while the Padre was too delighted at the 
 acquisition of the gold, the presence of an old 
 associate, and the opportune absence of Mar- 
 guerita, not to feel inclined for even extra 
 indulgence, albeit a difficult point to reach 
 with so habitual a toper. All concealment and 
 restraint forsook him : he felt, that if there 
 were a creature in the world to whom he could 
 unburthen himself, it was Nicolao, who well 
 knew the priest's peccadilloes, and had in fact 
 by the discovery of them, on more than one 
 occasion, got Chaves completely within his 
 power. 
 
 " Don't talk to me of women," cried the 
 Padre, in answer to some of the servitor's free
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 35 
 
 jokes; " I have forsaken them, treacherous 
 minxes ! I believe my niece would hand me 
 over to the new inquisitors if she found me 
 confessing millers'* wives after hours now-a- 
 days. Let us stick to wine. Nicolao," con- 
 tinued the priest, " dost know what I mean 
 to do with thy fifty pieces? The greatest 
 charity I can confer upon society is to explain 
 the nature of beverages which the ingenuity 
 of man hath concocted under the specious 
 generical name of wine. I am certain that 
 little is known about vinous poisons ; and 
 what is more deleterious than bad drink?" 
 
 Here the Padre took a draught at the flagon 
 before him, which proved his perfect confi- 
 dence in the present tipple being especially 
 good. Another and another pull at the cup 
 succeeded, till, it is to be feared, his intended 
 inquiry into the pernicious qualities of vinous 
 poison was, for the present, lost in the general 
 philosophy of drinking, on which point he be- 
 came peculiarly discursive. 
 
 " My son," remarked the maudlin Padre, 
 looking with grave aspect at Nicolao, who was
 
 S6 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 fooling him to the top of his bent, " drinking 
 is an honest occupation, and injures no one. 
 Look at the lower animals ; they always enjoy 
 a draught more than a feed. The horse snorts 
 with delight in his bucket ; the cat purrs as she 
 laps; the ducks lift their heads in gratitude to 
 Heaven even for a throttle-full of muddy water 
 from a green pond. Oh ! drinking is a blessed 
 act throughout all creation ; and man, being 
 alone in the possession of reason, has invented 
 wine : but it ought to be good, Nicolao. Even 
 instinct teaches where the best liquor is to be 
 found. Look at the bee," droned the Padre, 
 closing his eyes and shaking his head as though 
 he were delivering a homily, — for the purple 
 draughts he had taken sadly bewildered his 
 brain ; " look at the bee ; how he goes from 
 flower to flower, tasting and tasting the mawk- 
 ish stuff till he comes to the hollyhock ; and 
 there he sticks till he swills his full, like a jolly 
 fellow, and drops where he drank. Now for 
 the moral, Nicolao, my son !" and Padre 
 Chaves opened his eyes wide in a sort of 
 ecstasy, which made his companion roar with
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. o7 
 
 laughter ; " I will sing my moral : you may 
 laugh if you will ; but that little insect shames 
 man, even the wisest, who drinks bad liquor." 
 
 Then, fixing himself securely in his chair, he 
 trolled forth with a deep bass voice this moral 
 lay: 
 
 " What is the love of the tulip to me V* 
 Said the happy and droning tipsy bee; 
 
 " The rose may blush as I hasten by, 
 The lily may hang her head and die ; 
 But oh ! at their jealous pangs I mock, 
 Mine be the juice of the hollyhock — 
 To sip the sweets of the hollyhock — 
 The tipsy sweets of the hollyhock ; 
 
 Mine, mine, mine the juice of the hollyhock !'* 
 
 And what is the blush of the fairest cheek ? 
 And what care I for the love it may speak ? 
 Black eye, or hazel, or azure hue. 
 May weep, like flowers, in pearly dew; 
 For oh ! at the pangs of love I mock. 
 As sips the bee of the hollyhock — 
 The tipsy sweets of the hollyhock : 
 Oh ! mine be the vineyard's purple stock, — 
 Wine ! wine ! wine ! like juice of tlie hollyhock ! 
 
 Let others look to the stores of the hive. 
 And, like humble-bees, with the thrifty thrive; 
 Away with care, and let toil be o'er ; 
 The reeking grape gives us wine in store :
 
 38 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 For oh ! at the woes of life I mock, 
 As sips the bee of the hollyhock — 
 The tipsy sweets of the hollyhock : 
 Oh! mine be the vineyard's purple stock, — 
 Wine ! wine ! wine ! like the juice of the hollyhock ! 
 
 '' Bravely sung, my friend ! bravely sung !" 
 cried the delighted servitor ; " why, thou art 
 a naturalist, and a philosopher, and the most 
 immaculate of padres." 
 
 " And are you not both ashamed of your- 
 selves ?'* exclaimed a shrill voice at the door 
 of the apartment. " Senhor Nicolao, is such 
 your friendship for the Padre, when you know 
 that a little wine makes him almost beside 
 himself?" 
 
 With this affecting appeal to Nicolao's con- 
 science for having beguiled the abstemious 
 priest into a debauch, entered Marguerita, a 
 buxom damsel of about five-and-twenty years. 
 Her uncle regarded her with the leaden eye of 
 intoxication, for the sudden appearance of his 
 affectionate relative had quite finished him. 
 Nicolao, who had been taught to drink among 
 bull-fighters, was sufficiently composed to make
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 39 
 
 all proper excuses. The Padre was carefully 
 led to his bed, after which the servitor rati- 
 fied a peace over a glass of liqueur with the 
 mollified lady; and then, seeking his horse, 
 was in a few minutes on his road to Lisbon.
 
 40 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ARABIDA. 
 
 When Padre Chaves awoke in the morning, 
 it was with a perfect recollection of the cir- 
 cumstances which had marked the previous 
 night. Had he required reminding, his me- 
 mory was sufficiently refreshed with respect to 
 the debauch he had been guilty of by divers 
 shrill harangues on the subject from his fair 
 niece; while the matrimonial negociation af- 
 forded him a much more pleasing " forget me 
 not " in the bag of gold, which he found hidden 
 away in a cupboard, safe from the observation 
 of Marguerita's bright and piercing eyes. The 
 priest, having long made it a custom to ratify 
 all private arrangements over the bottle, had 
 acquired a sagacity in his intoxication well 
 known to some experienced tipplers : he sel-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 41 
 
 dom forgot what passed, even amid the deepest 
 potations ; and was never known to betray a 
 secret confided to him, drunk or sober, — that is 
 to say, unwittingly. The Padre sold his se- 
 crets, like many other confidants ; but then he 
 knew perfectly well what he was about. He 
 was an old acquaintance of Nicolao's, who, as 
 we have before mentioned, had his ancient 
 friend somewhat in his power ; the servitor 
 thus imagined that he might trust him with 
 more confidence than any other speculator in 
 secret marriages : but this was a grievous mis- 
 take ; the first act of the Padre's reason, on 
 waking from his long sleep, was to deliberate 
 on the best means of effecting a solemnization 
 of the midnight ceremonial without endanger- 
 ing his own precious person. The result of 
 this cogitation mounted him on his mule shortly 
 after he had broken his fast, and with sober 
 pace he proceeded towards the glen of the 
 Arabida. 
 
 When the Padre had ascended a steep and 
 lengthened acclivity leading to the romantic 
 spot he was seeking, he paused to rest the pam-
 
 4f2 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 pered beast he bestrode, which was as well fed 
 and almost as unwieldy as its master. Little 
 heeded the priest the extraordinary view that 
 presented itself, his heart being cast in too 
 sensual a mould to care aught for scenic 
 beauty; but, trusting this may not be the case 
 with our readers, we would fain describe the 
 prospect before him. From the height where 
 Padre Chaves now w^as, the descent into the 
 sylvan solitude seemed unmarked by human 
 trace, as though Nature had there made a 
 covenant with herself that man should not 
 break in upon the solemnity of her sacred 
 mysteries. The hill he had ascended bore only 
 the scanty vegetation of a few stunted shrubs, 
 for the soil was exposed to the blast after it 
 had swept the scorching plains of Africa ; but 
 in that deep glen waved the tasselled larch, the 
 umbrageous cork-tree : there stood the stately 
 chesnut with its clustering fruit, and the giant 
 oak, beneath which the dwarf fir looked up as if 
 demanding a return of that shelter its progeni- 
 tors granted to the sapling ere it became a 
 mighty tree. Green was the turf in many a
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 43 
 
 secluded nook, where the spreading branches, 
 embrowned by the sun, yet protected the em- 
 bowered glade from the noontide heat : here 
 did the fair bloom of the olive fall, and the 
 dark-leaved pomegranate shed its scarlet flow- 
 ers. Half hidden by foliage, craggy rocks 
 broke the woodland into dells and deep ra- 
 vines as it approached the river. Now reared 
 its slender shaft the mountain pine, — that 
 living column of Nature's architecture ; and, 
 threadlike in the distance, from impervious 
 thickets rose the tall blossom of the graceful 
 aloe : while far away the Sado pursued its ra- 
 pid course towards the neighbouring harbour, 
 the sea-birds wheeling and darting over its 
 waters, with shrill cries welcoming the moun- 
 tain stream to their ocean home. The town of 
 St. Ubes — its white buildings shining in the 
 light of the radiant sun — might be seen six miles 
 to the northward, where could easily be distin- 
 guished the turrets -and spires of its extensive 
 monastery ; and it is to be feared, if the Padre 
 troubled himself to contemplate any part of the 
 view before him, he overlooked all save this
 
 44 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 goodly edifice, for many a drone of that vast 
 hive had been a boon companion of the social 
 priest. The laxity of morals in the monastic 
 establishmentsof Portugal was, in the sixteenth 
 century, too gross to be denied, even by the 
 heads of their church. Some fifty years before 
 the reign of Sebastian, of whose times we treat, 
 Dom Duarte, his great-uncle and a prince of 
 Portugal, had, by the connivance of a de- 
 bauched priesthood and the willing aid of a 
 frail sisterhood, formed a nunnery into a com- 
 plete seraglio, where many daughters of the 
 first families in Lusitania, under the pretence 
 of taking the veil, became his concubines. 
 
 Padre Chaves having sufficiently rested his 
 mule, we will descend with him into the glen 
 of the Arabida, which contained habitations, 
 though they could only be discovered by 
 threading the mazes of the woodland. It was 
 here the chapel and monastery of the Miracle 
 had been founded in the twelfth century, near 
 a cave where the Virgin was said to have wept 
 till her tears so wrought on the whole host of 
 heaven, that with their blessed aid the Portu-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 45 
 
 guese won three consecutive victories over the 
 Moors; and it was to the establishment erected 
 in memory of this miraculous interposition, 
 which in the reign of Sebastian was among the 
 most richly endowed in Portugal, that the Padre 
 then wended his course. With difficulty the 
 mule made its way through the devious path, 
 frequently intercepted by outstretching arms 
 of trees, which had, in their mighty growth, 
 almost shut in the rehgious buildings. The 
 chapel at length became discernible ; it was 
 of simple structure and moderate dimensions, 
 reared of white stone, and completely embow- 
 ered in the wood. Creepers and geraniums 
 clung to walls by boughs overshadowed, and it 
 seemed as though Nature were insidiously and 
 silently re-asserting her claim to the glen of the 
 Arabida ; for soon would the giant branches, 
 if not felled by the woodman's axe, close over 
 the temple wrought of hands, leaving no altar 
 there but rock piled upon rock ; while the 
 forest voices of a thousand trees, waving to the 
 wind their rustling foliage, now scattering blos- 
 som, now the falling leaf, would in that deep
 
 46 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 gloom sing an eternal vesper to Nature's God. 
 The monastery, but a few yards distant from 
 the chapel, though not large, was sufficiently 
 commodious for the few brethren who were 
 attached to the service of the altar of Our 
 Lady of the Miracle. It was now nearly noon- 
 day, and the monks must have been taking 
 their siesta, for not a soul was stirring about 
 the building. Padre Chaves did not attempt 
 to communicate with the holy brotherhood; 
 he turned his mule into a shed that was open 
 in the court-yard, and, gathering his robe 
 around him, struck deep into the wood in the 
 direction of the river. After proceeding a few 
 hundred yards among the trees, and then wind- 
 ing amid rocks clothed with every variety of 
 foliage, he paused in a little ravine, so hidden 
 from view, and difficult of access, that few but 
 those who knew the locality would discover it. 
 
 Here was situated a small hermitage formed 
 out of a natural recess among the crags, and 
 sufficiently elevated from the bed of a rivu- 
 let, now coursing its quiet way along, to pro- 
 tect this humble abode from the influence of
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 47 
 
 the stream when swollen by the winter rains. 
 At the rudely-fashioned door of this woodland 
 cell, beneath the shade of a goodly cork-tree, 
 was seated an aged monk, whose grey hair 
 seemed indeed a crown of glory as, clustering 
 round the temples, it fell in graceful curls 
 till it mingled with his majestic beard. He 
 rose at the Padre's approach, and, putting 
 down a heavy tome that he had been perusing, 
 drew the hood of his dark habit over features 
 of a character which painters depict as belong- 
 ing to the ancient patriarchs; save that there 
 was in the eye of the recluse a dimness which 
 spake not of vigorous age, but rather of the 
 light of life fast waning, as though the watch- 
 fire of the soul shone inwardly, leaving but 
 that cold leaden gaze to commune with the 
 outer world. Bending his stately form with 
 an air of dignity, he motioned the portly Padre 
 to be seated ; a courtesy which, panting with 
 the unwonted exertions of the morning, he 
 willingly accepted ; reposing himself on the 
 bench beneath the tree, though it was merely 
 assigned to him by a wave of the hand.
 
 48 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 " It is long since I have seen you, brother,*" 
 commenced the hermit, as, seating himself by 
 his visitor, he so disposed his cowl, that, while 
 able to watch each turn of the Padre's coun- 
 tenance, his own was nearly concealed. " There 
 was a promise between us that the movements 
 of Dom Abrantes were to have been diligentl}' 
 regarded by you, and faithfully reported. Does 
 he yet hover around the Quinta Montoyo, over 
 the inmates of which most changed establish- 
 ment thou hast the spiritual charge ?" 
 
 " Reverend brother,"' rephed the Padre with 
 much apparent submission, " I confess that 
 the charge you speak of might have been 
 better fulfilled during the life of my pre- 
 decessor; but then the good Dom Louis was 
 in existence : at present, I believe my services 
 are more acceptable to the proud head of that 
 house than those of a more severe churchman 
 would be." 
 
 "It is a question which I care not now to 
 bruit," rejoined the recluse : " rather tell me 
 of Dom Abrantes ; does he yet pay constant 
 visits to the Marquis, your patron ? and what
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 49 
 
 report does the Duenna make as to his bearing 
 towards the Donna Beatrice ?" 
 
 " My inquiries on those subjects, holy bro- 
 ther, have produced but little intelligence with 
 which you are not already acquainted,'' an- 
 swered the Padre. " The visits of the Fidalgo 
 are as constant as ever, and apparently con- 
 ducted with much secrecy, for I have never 
 been allowed to get sight of him. His man- 
 ner towards the Donna I understand continues 
 so distantly constrained, that the Senhora 
 Juana assures me, could she believe it pos- 
 sible for a Christian cavaliero of such noble de- 
 portment to admire a Moorish girl, she should 
 conceive the Senhora Zuma, rather than her 
 patroness, the object of his attentions : but the 
 intercourse between Abrantes and the Senhoras 
 is altogether reserved, and warrants not a sup- 
 position that his visits to the Quinta have con- 
 nexion with its fair inmates; thus the intel- 
 ligent Duenna is inclined to suppose political 
 intrigue has deeply involved the Marquis with 
 the Fidalgo. To this cause she would assign 
 their constant companionship ; yet she sus- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 pects that a union between the mysterious 
 stranger and his sister would receive Dom 
 Christovao's decided concurrence : his anxious 
 assiduity in bringing the two parties frequently 
 together testifies this; — a solicitude which my 
 friend the Duenna informs me is evidently the 
 cause of considerable disquietude to the Senhor 
 Abrantes." 
 
 "There is little new matter in thy report, 
 Padre Chaves,"" said the recluse, losing from 
 his seat as if he would willingly si or ten the 
 visit. " Thou hast not earned the goi 1 I gave 
 thee last ; and wilt never gain more, if thou 
 dost not bestir thyself. I tell thee, it is ne- 
 cessary that the connexion between this Abran- 
 tes and the family of Montoyo should be 
 known to me. Surely thy worldly sagacity can 
 afford means to pierce this mystery. — If not, 
 thou hadst better forget thy way to my her- 
 mitage." 
 
 " It is in the hope of aiding thy inquiries 
 respecting this Senhor Abrantes that I am now 
 here," deferentially responded the subtle Padre, 
 who had a suspicion that Nicolao was sent im-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 51 
 
 mediately from his master ; or, at all events, 
 was resolved to set the matter in this light, 
 and thus persuade the recluse to take his place 
 at the altar of the Miracle, together with all 
 its responsibilities. He therefore boldly affirm- 
 ed that he had little doubt the Senhor medi- 
 tated a secret marriage ; and without going 
 into detail of the last evening's communication, 
 even forgetting to mention the gold which had 
 been entrusted to him, he concluded by pro- 
 posing that the hermit should perform the 
 required ceremony ; pretending great compunc- 
 tion in thus breaking his engagement to the 
 agent of the Fidalgo, which he declared no- 
 thing but the respect he had for his reverend 
 brother could have induced him to contemplate. 
 A calm assent to this arrangement, conveyed 
 in the simple expression " Let it be so ; I 
 will take this charge upon myself, nor will I 
 betray thee," was the only, acknowledgment 
 Padre Chaves received for his accommodating 
 offer. 
 
 A refection of bread and grapes was silently 
 spread before him by his host, with the unusual 
 
 d2
 
 52 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 accompaniment to any repast of the Padre's — a 
 cup of water, which he thought himself obliged 
 to drain. Grateful as such a draught would 
 have been to most Portuguese, for they are, 
 nationally speaking, great water-drinkers, and 
 this was cold from the shaded streamlet, it 
 did not agree with the regimen adopted by the 
 jovial priest : so, not tempted to sit over his 
 tipple, he once more sought his mule, and, 
 avoiding as much as possible all greetings with 
 the brotherhood who crossed his path. Padre 
 Chaves rode on his way rejoicing that he had 
 secured his bag of gold, and got rid of any 
 danger or scandal that might arise from the 
 secret marriage. He was fully assured that 
 the recluse would sacredly keep his promise in 
 performing the required service ; and thus he 
 hugged himself on his good fortune, which he 
 ascribed to the peculiar sagacity he had dis- 
 played in the matter. 
 
 Three hours after vespers the solitary lamp, 
 ever suspended before the high altar in the 
 chapel of Our Lady of the Miracle, was shed- 
 ding its feeble ray over the columns of silver and
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 53 
 
 lapis lazuli which in those days decorated that 
 costly shrine, when a Fidalgo supporting a veil- 
 ed female, apparently otherwise unattended, en- 
 tered the sacred edifice ; and here they were 
 solemnly united by the recluse, who was in 
 waiting. From Padre Chaves he had made 
 himself acquainted with all that was required of 
 him, and he took great pains to conceal his 
 person in the stately robes of the priesthood : 
 but, himself unknown, easily he penetrated the 
 disguise of those who stood before him. The 
 nuptial benediction was pronounced, and the 
 newly wedded disappeared in the gloom of the 
 surrounding woods; but the holy father who 
 solemnized those rites knelt long at the altar 
 which had witnessed them, nor was it till the 
 first beams of the rising sun gleamed through 
 the forest shade of the Arabida that the hermit 
 returned to his lowly dwelling.
 
 5h LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER ly. 
 
 LOVE AND JEALOUSY. 
 
 " Hist, Zuma, hist ! Father of Heaven ! does 
 the girl sleep, — or is she indeed playing me 
 false ?" impatiently exclaimed a stranger, wrapt 
 in a mantillo that completely concealed his 
 person : but the voice was Montoyo's ; a voice 
 that, sleeping or waking, was ever present to 
 Zuma's ear. The Moorish girl slept not : when 
 the worm is in the bud, the leaves fold not as 
 they were wont in the repose of beauty. Chris- 
 tovao was beneath the window of Zuma's cham- 
 ber, which , looking on the shrubbery, allowed 
 the approach of a midnight visitor without ob- 
 servation : a short corridor connected it with 
 the Donna Beatrice's apartment, but the trees 
 completely hid the low turrets from each other 
 in which were the sleeping-rooms of the two 
 friends.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 55 
 
 It is in vain to scan the records of human 
 nature, expecting that each page will be spot- 
 less. We must write of the betrayer and the 
 betrayed, for such was the affinity between the 
 Marquis de Montoyo and the Moorish girl. 
 Ere Zuma was introduced to our readers, Chris- 
 tovao had forgotten the protector in the se- 
 ducer. A libertine as to all moral restraint, he 
 had watched the growing beauties of the lovely 
 Moor with the eye of a voluptuary : from a 
 child he had taught her to love him till her love 
 became worship. Had she been of Christian 
 blood, even though ignoble as compared with 
 the proud tide that swelled in the veins of a Mon- 
 toyo, he might have wedded her ; but she was 
 only worthy of being a victim, and she fell. Yet 
 Christovao was mentally as well as passionately 
 attached to Zuma : the fond girl had acquired 
 so deep an interest in his heart, that, when he 
 swore to her he would never lead another to the 
 altar, — rather would he allow the name of his 
 fathers to become extinct, — he was sincere in 
 the pledge he gave. 
 
 Cautious were his visits to Zuma's apart-
 
 56 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ment : a light in the lattice told him when they 
 were secure from intrusion ; for the Senhora 
 Saltero's chamber opening in the centre of the 
 corridor rendered extreme caution necessary, 
 though the old lady was more of a sleeper than 
 a watcher of the night. Content with lecturing 
 her charges all day, and little dreaming that 
 the head of the house of Montoyo could be at- 
 tached to a plebeian Moor, she slumbered on 
 with a perseverance testifying her often repeat- 
 ed opinion, when urged to admit of later 
 hours than usual in the establishment, that 
 '^ night was made for sleep." 
 
 Christovao was admitted a few minutes after 
 making his first signal beneath the window, — 
 minutes his impatience had made him think 
 many ; but it was with no lover''s smile of bliss- 
 ful expectation the Marquis greeted the Moorish 
 girl, as, aided in his ascent by a sash she sus- 
 pended from the lattice, he sprung into the 
 room and stood before her, his lip quivering 
 with rage, his eyes distended, and his hands 
 clenched in the frenzy of extreme excitement. 
 
 '* Tell me, Zuma ! Tell me, as thou fearest
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 57 
 
 my vengeance! — may I yet say, as thou valuest 
 my love, for I know not but thou art false !" — 
 and he gazed sternly around the apartment : 
 " Abrantes has been here ; I swear I saw him 
 leave the door of the corridor." 
 
 Zuma, who had at first stood appalled at the 
 rejection of her welcoming embrace, and the 
 violence of Christovao, now trembled so help- 
 lessly that she must have fallen, had she not 
 tottered to a couch. Her cheeks became co- 
 lourless, and the bright ruby of her lip chang- 
 ed to the livery of death ! 
 
 " Speak, Zuma, speak !" muttered Montoyo 
 in the deep tones of intense passion. 
 
 The Moorish girl was still silent. 
 
 ** I know thou art false ! Traitress, this — this 
 be thy reward !'' and the infuriated man, draw- 
 ing a stiletto from his bosom, would have plung- 
 ed it into his hapless victim, but she had fallen 
 to the ground in a swoon. At the same instant 
 the door of the apartment opened, and the 
 astonished Duenna stood before her patron. 
 
 " Holy saints of Heaven !"" ejaculated the 
 Senhora Saltero, so completely astounded that 
 
 d5
 
 5S LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 she seemed likely to follow the example of the 
 poor girl, who, had she not made her appear- 
 ance, would have exchanged apparent for 
 actual death. The Marquis, however, did not 
 allow the old lady time to faint : roughly 
 seizing her by the hand, he drew her towards 
 Zuma, and bitterly exclaiming, " There — 
 look to your precious charge !" rushed through 
 the doorway, leaving the Quinta by the same 
 entrance whence he imagined he had just before 
 beheld the retreat of a rival in the person of 
 Abrantes. In a few moments more he was strid- 
 ing through the shrubbery, cursing the faith- 
 lessness of woman, and crushing the shrubs and 
 saplings beneath his feet, as if their destruction 
 afforded relief to his agonized spirit. 
 
 The unhappy Zuma suffered much, on awak- 
 ing to consciousness, from the merciless inquisi- 
 tion of the Duenna. But appeals for pity, tears, 
 and convulsive sobs were at first the only re- 
 turn made to the Senhora Juana's interroga- 
 tions; all tending to the same point, though put 
 in every form long-practised ingenuity could 
 devise.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 59 
 
 " Zuma, will you answer me before I draw 
 my own conclusions from the extraordinary 
 scene I have just now witnessed? Mother of 
 heaven ! — that such a thing should have hap- 
 pened to any one receiving the sanction of my 
 protection, — not that it could have occurred 
 to Christian blood I — and the Donna Beatrice 
 will now be convinced of the impropriety of 
 such friendship. Answer me, I say ! how 
 came Dom Christovao into this apartment, 
 which should have been the very sanctuary of 
 female purity ?" 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! — ask me not, if you would 
 not have me die !" sobbed Zuma, as she hid 
 her face in the cushions of the couch, which 
 were stained with her tears. 
 
 ** But I will ask you, girl ! — I will ask you, 
 Moor as you are in feelings, as well as blood, 
 in spite of all I have done to take the mark of 
 reprobate out of you ! — Though why Dom 
 Christovao came here your guilty bearing 
 shows, 'tis fit that you should have the shame 
 of confessing how fallen you are. Tell me all 
 about it, I say ! — and why did the Marquis
 
 60 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 dart out of the room with that bitter laugh 
 when he bade me look to my precious pupil ? 
 Why did he cast you off, if you have been to 
 him all I fear ?^' 
 
 The Duenna was leaning over the couch 
 while pouring this continued questioning into 
 the ear of the wretched girl, as if she hoped 
 by the torture of her shrill voice to bring forth 
 a reply. She had at length touched a chord 
 which promised to disclose the secret she wish- 
 ed to penetrate : Zuma raised her head, looked 
 wildly round, and, dashing aside the raven 
 hair that hung over her face, exclaimed, 
 
 " Cast me off ! — cast me off ! — oh ! say not 
 so, and I will tell you all : — only say he did 
 not cast me oiT!" and the poor girl wrung the 
 hand of the Duenna, looking so piteously and 
 appealingly into the sharp visage of her in- 
 quisitor, that even Senhora Juana seemed soft- 
 ened, and something very like a tear came into 
 her bead-like eyes. Such a weakness lasted 
 but for a moment ; the Duenna again got the 
 mastery over the woman. 
 
 " Touch me not ! — touch me not ! Blessed
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 61 
 
 Virgin ! — that a girl I have advised and in- 
 structed hours together, and taught embroi- 
 dery and other female accomplishments, should 
 so have fallen ! It is all plain enough ; and 
 I only hope, for your sake, he has cast you 
 off: and then we may get you quietly into a 
 nunnery, and by fasting and by vigil, — ay, 
 and wholesome stripes, too, — something may 
 yet be done for you. But I fear it was only 
 one of Dom Christovao's rages, and will soon 
 be over." 
 
 " Bless you ! bless you !" cried the Moorish 
 girl, kissing and wetting with her tears the 
 shrunken hands of the Duenna, which she again 
 took, despite the resistance of their immacu- 
 late owner, who speedily extricated them from 
 what she could not but consider contamination. 
 " Don't bless or thank me for such unholy 
 purpose ! Go to a nunnery, for here you can- 
 not stay : — the saints of heaven forbid ! I 
 would not that Donna Beatrice should even 
 dream of your frailty. You must disappear — 
 be thought dead — really die ; anything, any- 
 thing, if I can only get the Dom Christovao's
 
 62 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 sanction. Oh, Virgin-mother of heaven ! what 
 is to become of this unhappy establishment ?" 
 and the Duenna paced the apartment perfectly 
 at her wit's end. 
 
 " Senhora," said Zuma, approaching the old 
 lady, " I will not cause misery, — I will quit this 
 place before daylight. Oh ! that I might fly 
 to my brother ! — but he is far away ; and 
 then, would he receive me now ? Yet I will 
 go ; I will not contaminate by my presence 
 the Quinta de Montoyo." 
 
 The Moorish girl smiled bitterly as she 
 abruptly concluded, and busied herself in slight 
 preparations for her departure. Readily was 
 she assisted by the Duenna, who asked but few 
 questions as to her place of refuge. To find 
 that she consented to leave the Quinta at once, 
 was too satisfactory an arrangement to be tri- 
 fled with by any thought of protection for the 
 houseless wanderer. It would wrap the whole 
 affair in mystery. The Senhora Zuma would 
 have disappeared ; the Donna Beatrice would 
 learn this, and no more. She might weep for 
 the unaccountable loss of her friend ; but she
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 03 
 
 would not know her unworthiness, and dis- 
 cover that Dom Christovao, her own brother, 
 had wrought this ruin. Thus communing 
 with herself, the Duenna saw Zuma to the 
 portals beneath the corridor. 
 
 " The holy, pure, and blessed Virgin-mo- 
 ther of heaven, bring her to a sense of her own 
 shame, and make her a Magdalen, and keep 
 her from entering these doors again, that no 
 more mischief may come to this honourable 
 house, and to the head of the noble name of 
 Montoyo. Dom Christovao must have been 
 worked upon by some unholy spell, or he never 
 could have loved this Moorish girl," muttered 
 the Senhora, hastily re-entering her room to 
 tell her beads till she went to sleep, — her usual 
 though unconscious method of inviting repose.
 
 64 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 The hapless Zuma, cast forth so recklessly 
 by the cold-hearted Duenna, had not far to 
 seek a place of refuge ; though, when the port- 
 als of the Quinta closed on her, she knew not 
 where to lay her head. Could she have fled 
 to her brother, it must have been to tell him 
 the tale of her dishonour, and consequently 
 expose the Marquis to his vengeance : but, 
 though likely to avenge her, he was not in a 
 position to afford her protection ; and the for- 
 lorn girl felt that she would rather perish than 
 endanger the life of her betrayer. The for- 
 tunes of their captivity had apportioned the 
 Moorish children to different masters : Zuma, 
 as we have before said, became adopted into 
 the Montoyo family, the early playmate, and, 
 
 I
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 65 
 
 ultimately, chosen friend of the daughter of 
 that noble house ; Zadig, before he attained the 
 age of twenty years, had, by the death of his 
 protectors, met with several changes. When 
 his sister would gladly have looked to him 
 for aid, though no longer a bondsman, he 
 was the only attendant of the poet Camoens, — 
 that celebrated bard on his return from India 
 having received the Moorish boy from a rela- 
 tive of his original captor. Zuma knew that 
 her brother was only a few miles the other 
 side of Lisbon, he being in attendance on his 
 patron, who was then residing at Cintra ; but 
 she dared not, for the reasons we have stated, 
 look to him for succour. Friends she had 
 none, out of the pale of the Montoyo family, 
 except the Senhor Abrantes ; and when her 
 thoughts recurred to this Fidalgo, whose myste- 
 rious departure from the corridor had wrought 
 her so much evil, the proud girl's lip curled 
 with disdain as she trod with a firm step on 
 her solitary way. Murmuring to herself, " I 
 am not more unworthy the shelter of those 
 walls than one the cruel Duenna little suspects,"
 
 (56 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 she crossed the boundary which divided the 
 shrubbery of the Quinta from the public road. 
 Here it was necessary that the fugitive should 
 determine the course she would pursue. It 
 seemed impossible for her to reach Lisbon 
 without a conveyance, — and what had she to 
 do with Lisbon ? Her purse was but scantily 
 supplied with a few gold pieces, and she was 
 too ignorant in the ways of the world to make 
 her first essay at self-protection in that city. 
 Again, — was she for ever to cut off all commu- 
 nication with Montoyo, the being for whom 
 she had sacrificed so much .^ Had she not 
 better remain in the immediate neighbourhood 
 of the Quinta, and inform him of her abode .^^ 
 
 " But, oh ! this will be worse than useless !" 
 exclaimed the bewildered girl, as the last idea 
 occurred to her : "he believes I am false ; he 
 may slay me, for I cannot, must not, justify 
 myself; but he will never love me more !" and 
 Zuma, sitting down by the road-side, drew her 
 mantilla over her face and wept bitterly. 
 
 Morning dawned, and the Moorish girl was 
 still close to the grounds of the Quinta, when
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 67 
 
 she was aroused to consciousness of the ex- 
 posure that must immediately await her re- 
 maining in the public road by the approach of 
 a grape-guarder. She arose, and shunning the 
 observation of this peasant, at once resolved to 
 seek a temporary asylum in the hut of an old 
 retainer of the Montoyos, about a mile dis- 
 tant ; whose humble abode she reached just as 
 its owner, Jacinta, had commenced the morning 
 task of milking her goats, — a small flock of 
 these useful animals being her chief means of 
 support. It was here the Marquis and Zuma 
 had often met, and the old woman was in some 
 degree the confidante of their amour. The 
 Moorish girl checked a torrent of questions 
 by begging for present shelter, and paying 
 for secrecy as to her presence in the cottage. 
 Zuma did not even make a reservation in 
 favour of the Marquis de Montoyo, for she 
 would not confess to her once proud heart how 
 anxiously she looked forward to a reconcilia- 
 tion with the betrayer who had so readily 
 abandoned her. 
 
 Taking possession of an inner apartment.
 
 68 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 she seated herself by a window from whence 
 was visible the road leading to the Quinta, 
 and the poor girl's bosom throbbed high with 
 expectation at the approach of every wayfarer ; 
 for, after all her wavering resolves, she had 
 at last placed herself in the very locality where 
 she was most likely to be sought for by her 
 heart's liege lord. The bustling Jacinta vainly 
 pressed on Zuma's acceptance the humble fare 
 of her cottage. The rich goat's milk, the cake 
 of maize, and the highly piled basket of grapes, 
 which she placed before the sorrowing girl, 
 were untasted. Incessant had been the old 
 peasant's visits to her guest, perhaps as much 
 in hope of discovering the secret of her distress 
 as from hospitable motives, till Zuma request- 
 ed that she might remain undisturbed : — 
 wearied with her fruitless office of gazing on 
 the road, she yielded to the influence of the 
 approaching noontide heat, and, resting her 
 head on her folded arms, which found support 
 on the rough-boarded table of the apartment, 
 for a while forgot her sorrows in sleep. 
 When Zuma awoke, the sun had an hour pass-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 69 
 
 ed its meridian ; and chiding herself for having 
 been so careless a watcher, though feeling some 
 comfort in the thought that the Marquis was 
 not likely to have ridden abroad at noon-day, 
 she hastily sought the outer apartment, where 
 the industrious Jacinta was quietly seated at 
 her spinning-wheel. 
 
 " Has the Marquis passed ?" hurriedly ex- 
 claimed the anxious girl. 
 
 " Yes, Senhora, but a few minutes ago ; he 
 has but now gained yonder hill on his way to 
 Lisboa.'' 
 
 " And you did not wake me, cruel Jacinta !'* 
 reproachfully said the Moorish girl as she ran 
 to the door, and, throwing it open, gazed with 
 tearful eye on the retreating form of her 
 lover. 
 
 " The Saints have mercy on us ! — you told 
 me not to disturb you !"" expostulated the goat- 
 herd. " Did you not desire me to keep your 
 being here a secret ? and was I not trembling 
 to tell the Marquis a falsehood, when I an- 
 swered his ' Any news, good mother ?" by 
 saying, * Nothing, but two goats have kidded,
 
 70 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 please your excellency ?' Oh ! had he known 
 the pretty kid that was sheltered in the old 
 goat- woman's hut f 
 
 Jacinta was interrupted in a long harangue 
 by a scream of joy from the delighted Zuma, 
 who, clasping her hands, exclaimed, " He has 
 turned ! — he looks towards the cottage ! — he sees 
 me ! — he sees me ! — he is coming V — and here 
 her voice sank into a whisper, as, turning from 
 the door, the bright smile fled from her face. 
 She threw herself into a chair, and, bursting 
 into tears, murmured, " No, no ! it is useless ! 
 I never, never will betray her !" 
 
 The Marquis, after a morning spent in en- 
 deavouring to intimidate the Duenna into re- 
 vealing what had become of Zuma, whose dis- 
 appearance she had coldly and formally an- 
 nounced, naturally came to the conclusion that 
 she had fled to the protection of Abrantes; and 
 to justify his jealous suspicion, as well as the 
 harsh conduct it had given rise to, he deter- 
 mined on gravely charging his friend with 
 having seduced the Moorish girl from his 
 guardianship. With such intention he had set
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 71 
 
 out for Lisbon, without even waiting for the 
 mid-day heat to subside ; a most unusual disre- 
 gard of a salutary custom common to the inha- 
 bitants of warm climates. Not wishing to 
 hasten rumours which would too soon become 
 rife, respecting Zuma's sudden departure, 
 Christovao had abstained from particularly 
 questioning Jacinta as he passed the hut ; cal- 
 culatincr that his usual address of " What 
 news, good mother ?" would suffice to elicit all 
 the goatherd knew of the fugitive. On reaching 
 the acclivity before mentioned, he had turned 
 to look on the scene of past happiness, — yes ! 
 such was that cottage to the Marquis. There 
 had ended many of his secret meetings with 
 the Moorish girl, for in the broken ground 
 where Jacinta's goats browsed was a dell well 
 known to the lovers. On beholding her he 
 sought, standing at the door of the hut, 
 anxiously looking towards him, the blood 
 rushed to the dark brow of Dom Christovao 
 with a sudden revulsion from a heart which 
 yet throbbed with the deepest passion. "It is 
 Zuma !" cried he with joyful surprise, as if for
 
 72 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 the moment dismissing the demons of distrust 
 and jealousy which had attended him ; and the 
 trembling girl had scarcely time to request the 
 absence of the goatherd from their painful in- 
 terview, when Christovao stood before her. 
 
 " May I imagine you again wish to see me, 
 that you continue in this neighbourhood after 
 your extraordinary departure from the Quinta ? 
 Tell me, Zuma, — speak to me ! — explain all 
 this mystery about Abrantes ! — tell me that you 
 are innocent, and gladly will I believe you." 
 
 To this address Zuma scarcely dared reply, 
 for hers was a secret that might wound the 
 fame of one dear as a sister, nor could it give 
 rest to the perturbed spirit that called on her 
 to answer. She threw herself into her lover's 
 arms ; they supported, but seemed unwilling 
 to close over her. 
 
 '* Believe me innocent, take me to your 
 heart again; but do not ask. me of Abrantes, — 
 I cannot, 1 will not, and dare not tell you !" 
 
 '' Go then, false girl !" furiously exclaimed 
 the Marquis, as he dashed the wretched Zuma 
 to the earth, and turned to leave the cottage:
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 73 
 
 she clung to his feet ; he attempted to disen- 
 gage himself from her, but she would not quit 
 her hold. Montoyo's hand sought his jewelled 
 stiletto; he looked on the prostrate girl, — she 
 had quickly perceived the movement which 
 betokened death : wild was the glance that 
 met his eye, but it spoke not of fear; there 
 was a smile on her face as she awaited the 
 blow. 
 
 " Yes, Christovao, slay me ; but do not 
 abandon me !" 
 
 '' Live then, base girl, if life has greater 
 torments ;"" and the Marquis strode forward to 
 loose his horse's reins, which were made fast 
 to the door-post, but again he was arrested 
 by the frantic girl. She sprang from the 
 ground where her lover had left her, and, 
 rushing towards him, she exclaimed, ^' Call me 
 not base, unless it is base to love you. — Chris- 
 tovao — Christovao !" 
 
 Vain was the appeal ; the Marquis attempt- 
 ed to throw himself into his saddle. 
 
 " Beatrice, Beatrice is the beloved of Abran- 
 tes !" 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Thus in the extremity of her anguish spoke 
 Zuma. Had Christovao heard ? — he seemed 
 rooted to the earth, the reins of his horse 
 dropped from his hand ; the weeping girl hung 
 on his arm, but he regarded her not : it was 
 the hushed moment before the storm burst. 
 In the words of Zuma there was indeed justi- 
 fication. The myster}^ was explained, but the 
 heart that should have once again opened to 
 receive the object of its affection was occupied 
 by sterner guests. Ambition, pride, the mas- 
 ter spirits of the Marquis de Montoyo''s soul, 
 had shut out all gentler feeling. Arousing 
 himself from this momentary lethargy, again 
 was the hapless victim of his wayward pas- 
 sions a witness to the outpourings of his 
 wrath ; but its violence had turned from 
 Zuma. 
 
 The Moorish girl had little to disclose save 
 the fact that Abrantes had the night before 
 entered the opposite chamber of the corridor ; 
 and this was wrung from her, for already she re- 
 pented having betrayed the secret of her friend, 
 though it had been discovered by her, rather 
 than intrusted to her keeping. Beatrice had
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 75 
 
 confessed to Zuma her affection for Abrantes ; 
 but, of all beside, her once chosen confidante 
 was unconscious. She knew not even that it 
 was requited. The wound which Zuma's sup- 
 posed infidelity had inflicted on Christovao's 
 self-esteem was healed ; and the intense love 
 which he really bore her, if we can thus call 
 a feeling which had wrought so much evil in 
 its gratification, induced the imperious Por- 
 tuguese once more to assure the Moorish girl 
 of his affection. But heavy was the price poor 
 Zuma felt she had paid for the return of his 
 love. She had betrayed Beatrice to a brother 
 jealous of her lionour, and, in common with 
 his countrymen of high descent, capable of 
 punishing even with death a departure from 
 the strictest decorum on the part of a female 
 relative. Yet, in the midst of these self- 
 reproaches, she had an assurance which had 
 escaped Christovao in the paroxysm of his 
 rage, — the Donna was not without a power- 
 ful protector ; Abrantes, the mysterious lover 
 of Beatrice de Montoyo, was Sebastian King of 
 Portugal. 
 
 E 2
 
 76 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 POLITICS. 
 
 Sebastian, King of Portugal, inherited the 
 throne of his grandfather, John the Third, 
 when only three years old. During his mino- 
 rity, Dom Louis, Marquis de Montoyo, the 
 father of Dom Christovao, had been selected 
 as his tutor by the Queen Catherine, grand- 
 mother of the young King. Montoyo had 
 been a warrior in his youth, faithfully and 
 gallantly serving his country ; a politician of 
 riper years, entrusted with many difficult em- 
 bassies by King John ; and at length the tutor 
 of Sebastian, devoting himself to the advance- 
 ment of his pupil in every virtue that could 
 adorn a crown. His experience of courts had 
 taught the Marquis that a monarch, to resist 
 the demoralizing influence of his position, had
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 77 
 
 need be steeled to the blandishments of vice in 
 its most seductive forms, with a moral and 
 religious panoply of sterner stuff than may 
 suffice men of less exalted station. A desire 
 to excel in warlike exercises, a chivalrous love 
 of glory, a high sense of honour, together with 
 a devoted zeal for the interests of the Catholic 
 Church, were thus early implanted in the 
 mind of Sebastian by the unremitting care of 
 his tutor. When the machinations of that 
 arch and unprincipled politician, Louis Gon- 
 salves da Camera, succeeded in removing Mon- 
 toyo from the court, the young King's heart 
 possessed the germs of many virtues, which, 
 had they been tended in their developement 
 by the judicious hand that had implanted 
 them, might have prevented the redundant 
 growth of qualities, good under rational con- 
 trol, but in their excess evil. Sebastian now 
 fell into the hands of a host of courtly para- 
 sites, who succeeded in drawing a rank harvest 
 of many faults and indiscretions from the 
 goodly seed which it had been Montoyo's 
 pride to instil. So affected was this ancient
 
 78 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 preceptor by the unlooked-for result of his 
 anxious solicitude, that, after making a pil- 
 grimage to Rome, he withdrew himself entirely 
 from the world, in the seclusion of an Au- 
 gustine monastery near Oporto, Here he de- 
 voted himself to the severest religious exercises, 
 nor even permitted the visits of his son and 
 daughter, lest they should break in on his 
 holy contemplations, till the announcement of 
 his death in the odour of sanctity summoned 
 them to attend his obsequies. 
 
 His royal pupil had in the mean time per- 
 verted much of the intrinsically good which 
 had remained to him of Montoyo's preceptor- 
 ship into actual evil. The taste Sebastian had 
 acquired for the manly sports of the field, under 
 the guidance of Dom Louis, had degenerated 
 into a passionate predilection, which threatened 
 at one time to have reduced the King of Portu- 
 gal to a level with the commonest " matador" 
 of his kingdom. To hunt the wildest boar 
 he could rouse among the rocks and fastnesses 
 of Tras os Montes, to tame the most intractable 
 horse, did not now content him : his pride was
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 79 
 
 to enter the arena at the " Festas dos Touros" 
 against the maddened bull ; and, after repeated 
 charges as " cavaliero," with his own hand to 
 give the tortured animal the coup de grace. 
 Such was the employment rather than the 
 amusement of the King, until he attained his 
 twentieth year. The Queen Catherine, his 
 grandmother, who, with his uncle, Dom Henry, 
 the cardinal, had held the regency during his 
 minority, bitterly lamented the developement 
 of such degenerate tastes in the monarch of 
 Portugal. This noble, intelligent woman had 
 not only been the fond guardian of his infancy 
 in default of a mother's care, but the faithful 
 counsellor of Sebastian's manhood against the 
 insidious influence of the Da Cameras, to which 
 he had been exposed by the inert and selfish 
 conduct of the cardinal, a prince, if not too 
 imbecile, certainly too indolent for affairs of 
 state. Catherine would now have counselled 
 him to beware of man's most dangerous enemy, 
 even his own inclination. In vain she reproach- 
 ed her grandson, that he loved better to live like 
 a wild hunter of the Brazils than a civilized
 
 80 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 European monarch : her just remonstrances, 
 though received with gentleness by the young 
 King, and answered by promises of amend- 
 ment, were forgotten the earliest moment a 
 bull-fight or the chase held forth its seductions. 
 Catherine even requested Philip of Spain to 
 use his influence with his nephew ; and penned 
 a letter, in which were set forth the risks Sebas- 
 tian daily ran in the pursuit of his desperate 
 pastimes. This called forth a strong admo- 
 nition from his royal uncle, though unhappily 
 attended with as little effect as the queen's own 
 solicitations. 
 
 Yet Sebastian possessed a heart which beat 
 with every generous sympathy when its dic- 
 tates were not silenced by any of his violent 
 predilections. Presuming on the enormous 
 revenue he yielded to the treasury of Rome, 
 which was said to be fifty thousand golden 
 ducats annually, he had begged exemption from 
 the edict of Pope Pius the Fifth against bull- 
 fighting; and the Holy Father, to gratify him, 
 permitted this cruel diversion to remain a royal 
 sport in Portugal, to be sanctioned by the pre-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 81 
 
 sence of a crowned head. The King was thus 
 enabled to become the presiding spirit at every 
 bull-fight in his dominions. Yet this monarch 
 was gentle to his dependants; patient under 
 reproof, when coming either from his relatives 
 or the Fathers of the church ; merciful and for- 
 giving to those who had oifended him ; and, 
 though unable to curb his inclinations, ready 
 to confess his errors. The sovereign, as we 
 shall soon have occasion to show, who racked 
 the resources of his country and people to the 
 utmost extremity in the obstinate prosecution 
 of a chimerical expedition, was generous to his 
 followers, and charitable to the poor with a 
 lavish hand, which had often exhausted his 
 treasury, though he was reputed the richest 
 monarch of his times in Europe. In June 
 1569, when the plague ravaged Lisbon, he 
 expended upwards of six hundred crusados 
 novas per diem in donations to the sick from 
 the privy purse; and, as the awful calamity 
 spread among the provinces, so did Sebastian's 
 charity follow its progress. When the pes- 
 tilence ceased in the October of the same year, 
 
 £ 5
 
 82 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 eighty thousand sufferers having died by its in- 
 fluence, he caused seven sail of large vessels 
 to be prepared at his sole expense for those 
 widows and orphans who wished to entiigrate 
 to the Brazils, directing the governor of that 
 colony to provide for his proteges till they 
 were either married or out of the reach of want. 
 In 1574, the harvest having failed in Tras os 
 Montes and the province of Minho, he caused 
 five hundred quarters of wheat and twelve 
 thousand crusados to be distributed from his 
 private resources on the occasion, while his less 
 public charities were without limit; and there 
 was no one who had fallen from affluence to 
 poverty but was certain of his assistance and 
 protection. 
 
 We find ourselves becoming prolix; but it 
 may be as well that Sebastian should take 
 credit for all his virtues, ere his errors and 
 imprudence are made more fully apparent. In 
 as few words as possible we will now bring the 
 reader to the particular epoch of the young 
 King's reign, to which our story bears imme- 
 diate reference. When scarcely twenty years 
 
 I
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 83 
 
 old, Sebastian, weary of the inglorious war he 
 had so long waged against the wild beasts of 
 the chase and the bulls of the arena, suddenly 
 determined on an expedition to Barbary for 
 the purpose of striking terror into the Moors, 
 who, the natural foes of the European penin- 
 sula, and, as well, the enemies of the Cross, were 
 thus doubly held in abhorrence by that chival- 
 rous monarch and faithful son of the church. 
 
 Sebastian generally acting on the impulse of 
 the moment, little preparation was made for 
 this exploit ; yet the sanguine prince confi- 
 dently expected ere long to return crowned 
 with the laurels of a conqueror, amid the wav- 
 ing palms of welcome which would be justly 
 due to the slayer of infidels for the honour 
 of the holy Catholic religion. The expedition 
 consisted only of three galleys, and sailed from 
 Cascaes, a port below Lisbon, on the ITth 
 of August 1574, for Ceuta, then held by a 
 strong Portuguese garrison : after remaining 
 here for several weeks, the King obtained a 
 small reinforcement from the fortress, and 
 proceeded to Tangiers, another possession of
 
 84 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Lusitania on the Barbary coast. From the 
 lines of this town he recklessly sallied out at 
 the head of one thousand cavalry, to attack a 
 body of five thousand Moorish horse and three 
 thousand infantry. After some faint resist- 
 ance the Mahommedans retired before him, evi- 
 dently to those of his officers experienced in 
 African warfare, for the purpose of drawing 
 their impetuous leader into the country ; a 
 design which certainly would have succeeded, 
 had they not persuaded the reluctant prince to 
 turn back while the plain in his rear was yet 
 open to him. He was shortly after assailed 
 from the pulpit by Doctor Antonio Pinheiro, 
 one of his chaplains, on the imprudence of this 
 expedition ; and Sebastian, ever submissive un- 
 der the reproofs of the church, again set sail 
 for Portugal. Weathering a tremendous tem- 
 pest, he arrived at Lisbon, after an absence of 
 nearly four months from that capital, convinced 
 certainly of the insufficiency of his late arma- 
 ment, but the more determined to strain every 
 energy of his kingdom whenever a concurrence 
 of favourable circumstances might open to him
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 85 
 
 the path of conquest and glory in Africa. Se- 
 bastian had to wait four long years for this 
 opportunity; but he then seized it with an 
 avidity which showed that an ardent desire for 
 military renown, combined with hatred to the 
 infidel Moors, had strengthened with the ad- 
 vance of years : that which was once the daring 
 impulse of the boy, had now become the dar- 
 ling passion of the man. 
 
 Muley Moloch, a Moorish prince, having, 
 by the aid of the SubHme Porte, dethroned his 
 nephew, Muley Hamet, Emperor of Fez and 
 Morocco, — the merits of which proceeding we 
 shall show^ in the course of our narrative, — the 
 fugitive monarch, taking refuge in the moun- 
 tains of Claros, sent an ambassador to Sebastian, 
 begging the assistance of an army to support 
 his claims. That Muley Hamet should have 
 looked for succour from the King of Portugal 
 v/as but natural ; as, independent of that mon- 
 arch's known chivalrous disposition, the occu- 
 pation by the Portuguese of several coast 
 settlements in Barbary, occasioned those re- 
 lations with the Moors which might be sup-
 
 86 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 posed to interest Sebastian in the politics of 
 Morocco : but that so decided and desperate a 
 step should in consequence be taken by that 
 rash monarch, as to plan an expedition into 
 Africa, which, draining the resources of Portu- 
 gal, threatened to set the fate of his country 
 on the hazard of a single die, astonished the 
 whole of Europe. Yet, without a second con- 
 sideration, did Sebastian engage to support the 
 pretensions of the dethroned Moorish prince. 
 
 The Queen Catherine was now dead; and the 
 formal remonstrances against this African war, 
 which he had to endure from his uncles Philip 
 the Second of Spain and Dom Henry, were un- 
 heeded. The former, had his nephew been about 
 to consummate his individual ruin only, would 
 have gladly accelerated the act ; but, hoping 
 ere long to annex the throne of Lusitania to 
 that of Castile, he desired not Portugal's African 
 possessions perilled, or its treasury drained : of 
 this, Sebastian was aware. The cardinal had 
 become so lost in the grovelling sensuality of 
 the table, that the energetic King considered his 
 advice as the babbling of a dotard, from whom
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 87 
 
 the power of imagining good or evil had de- 
 parted with his counsellors, Louis and Martin 
 Gonsalves da Camera. These bold, bad men, 
 — one a Jesuit, and the other, though of a dif- 
 ferent priestly order, worthy of belonging to 
 the brotherhood of Loyola, — had completely led 
 this weak prince during his joint regency with 
 the Queen Catherine ; who, but for the solicita- 
 tions of the Portuguese nobles, enforced by the 
 spiritual commands of Pope Pius the Fourth, 
 would certainly have abandoned her trust, in 
 consequence of Dom Plenry having committed 
 the virtual sovereignty into the hands of such 
 ministers. Continuing still chief counsellors of 
 state, on the young monarch being declared to 
 have attained his majority at the age of four- 
 teen years, they threatened by their chicanery 
 and exactions to involve the foreign policy of 
 the nation, and incite the country to rebellion ; 
 till they were at length exposed to tlie just 
 indignation of Sebastian by the exertions of two 
 Portuguese noblemen, Christovao de Favora 
 and Louis da Sylva, who, from love to the 
 monarch, had penetrated the intrigues of his
 
 88 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ministers. The discomfited priests were ex- 
 pelled the kingdom ; and the King called to his 
 counsels Pedro de Alcacova, late secretary of 
 state to his grandfather. The death of Queen 
 Catherine, who was ever ready to advance the 
 best interests of her grandson, the absence of 
 Montoyo's honest advice, and, above all, Sebas- 
 tian's distrust of his uncles, decided him on 
 the dangerous expedient of abiding by his own 
 inexperienced judgment. 
 
 In our happy land of freedom to all save 
 monarchs and notorious vagabonds, (we link 
 these together without meaning disrespect to 
 either^ since they alone find from the laws more 
 restraint than protection,) a king may declare 
 war with a foreign state, but he cannot com- 
 mand the necessary supplies, unless with the 
 consent of his " faithful commons.'* Sebas- 
 tian's rule was of a different complexion. Al- 
 cacova invented imposts and taxes, while the 
 King's royal mandate was sufficient to put them 
 into immediate execution. Pope Gregory the 
 Thirteenth granted a bull of crusade, which 
 was preached with immense effect among the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 89 
 
 good Catholics of Portugal ; the clergy were 
 by the same holy authority laid under con- 
 tribution ; thus completing Sebastian's obliga- 
 tions to the See of Rome, which had com- 
 menced early in his nonage, when a solemn 
 gift was bestowed on him by the then reigning 
 Pontiff of an arrow drawn from the body of his 
 namesake, St. Sebastian, after martyrdom. 
 
 Money — the sinews of war — obtained, it re- 
 mained but to collect an army for the expedi- 
 tion. To effect this, a species of conscription, 
 unrelenting in its character, drew the flower of 
 Portuguese manhood to the ranks of Sebas- 
 tian. Agents were sent into Italy, Germany, 
 and Holland, to raise troops ; while crowd- 
 ing round the banner of this crusade, which 
 it was implicitly believed by the young, the 
 ardent and inexperienced among the chivalry 
 of the age, would effect the conquest and 
 christianization of Barbary, came volunteers, 
 scions of the first families in Europe. The 
 nobility of Lusitania, with scarcely those ex- 
 ceptions which boyhood, age, or infirmity 
 might be supposed to have occasioned, were
 
 90 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 foremost in this noble and chivalrous band. 
 Many of these, hereditary counsellors of state, 
 had strongly advised their king against the 
 expedition ; but, finding him determined on 
 the invasion, they gallantly came forward to 
 stand or fall with Sebastian on the shores of 
 Africa. Spain was the last to afford a subsidy 
 from her warriors, veterans in Moorish war- 
 fare, to support the cause of the cross. 
 
 Muley Moloch had made Philip an inter- 
 cessor with Sebastian, hoping through his in- 
 strumentality to draw the King of Portugal 
 from his league with Muley Hamet ; and 
 historians declare, offering as the price of a 
 breach of faith, ten miles of arable land round 
 each of the Portuguese fortresses in Africa, — 
 Ceuta, Tangiers, and Masagar. But Sebastian, 
 having embarked in the cause of Muley 
 Hamet, had too high a notion of honour to 
 forsake the prince whose wrongs he had sworn 
 to redress : Hamet had moreover enlisted 
 every enthusiastic feeling of the young King's 
 heart in the expedition, by a guarantee of all 
 the northern African shores then held by the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 91 
 
 Portuguese ; adding to these possessions a 
 tract of country six leagues inland, with the 
 towns and cities thereunto belonging, among 
 which were some places of great importance. 
 The Harife also made a solemn pledge that the 
 faith of Jesus Christ should be preached in 
 Barbary, and granted Sebastian full permission 
 to crown himself Emperor of Morocco. 
 
 Philip had consented to negotiate with his 
 nephew in behalf of Muley Moloch ; but, failing 
 success in his intercession to prevent the ex- 
 pedition, he had not bound himself to refuse 
 that support which, on account of his relation- 
 ship to its originator, it was natural to suppose 
 would be afforded by the " Most Catholic'' mon- 
 arch. Sebastian therefore was incessant in his 
 applications for an auxiliary armament from 
 his uncle, and was ultimately indebted to Spain 
 for two thousand Castilians, — but a small por- 
 tion of the assistance which the King of Por- 
 tugal considered he had a right to expect. 
 
 Even Sebastian's antipathy to marriage seem- 
 ed to have yielded to his desire of effecting his 
 present purpose. Catherine, when Queen Re-
 
 y2 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 gent, had proposed an alliance between her 
 grandson and Marguerite of Valois ; an ar- 
 rangement which the prince, aided by his uncle 
 Philip, had successfully opposed, so far as 
 was in the power of a boy then little more 
 than nine years of age : and on Pope Pius the 
 Fifth subsequently renewing the negotiation, 
 when Sebastian had attained manhood, hoping 
 by this union so daring and zealous a prince 
 might be induced to fight the battle of the 
 Romish Church against the heretic Huguenots 
 of France, Sebastian most undisguisedly show- 
 ed his repugnance to marriage. Elizabeth of 
 Austria, daughter of Maximilian the Second, 
 had equally the mortification of being rejected 
 by the King of Portugal, ere she married 
 Charles the Ninth of France ; and in either of 
 these instances an alliance was offered to his 
 acceptance as unexceptionable in point of poli- 
 tical relation, as the princesses were in personal 
 and mental charms. Sebastian had thus shown 
 a decided distaste to matrimony, which scandal 
 would willingly have ascribed to a libertine 
 licence in his intercourse with the few " dames
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 93 
 
 (Thormeur'''' in Queen Catherine's court ; but so 
 cold had been his bearing towards these 
 Donnas, that not even the whispering lies, 
 which in all ages have marred reputations to 
 make polite conversation, could sustain the 
 supposition. Lower amours were then vaguely 
 laid to his charge, but as faintly supported ; 
 till the censorious, angry at the cautious de- 
 portment of Sebastian, which would not afford 
 its proper quota to the Scan. Mag. of the 
 court chronicle, agreed to pronounce their 
 King too fond of the stern, cruel, and savage 
 sports of the chase, and the wild excitement of 
 war, to be capable of loving. Thus some of his 
 contemporaries, not having succeeded in hold- 
 ing him up to posterity as a libertine, seem- 
 ingly from very spite, have handed him down 
 to us in history as one of those monsters oc- 
 casionally discovered in society — a woman- 
 hater. 
 
 While such were the rumours and opinions 
 of the court sub rosd, the priesthood, either in 
 sincere belief of the moral virtues of Sebastian, 
 or thinking it expedient to laud the reigning
 
 94 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 monarch, without troubling themselves as to 
 the truth of their assertions, occasioned the 
 general voice of the people to be loud in praise 
 of their King's more than priestly continence ; 
 insinuating that he was under a voluntary vow 
 of celibacy, until, by his successes against the 
 infidels, the religion of the cross should be 
 openly preached in the streets of Fez. This 
 latter suggestion of the never-resting tongue of 
 rumour received an unexpected sanction when, 
 to the astonishment of Europe, a negotiation 
 opened by Philip of Spain, offering the hand 
 of his daughter to Sebastian, received this 
 monarch's decided concurrence : his only stipu- 
 lation, as agreeable to the wily uncle as to the 
 nephew, being the postponement of the mar- 
 riage till after his return to Portugal a con- 
 queror over the Moors; to effect which tri- 
 umphant consummation of the expedition, the 
 King of Spain was to assist Sebastian with 
 both men and money. 
 
 We must now abruptly bring to a close our 
 chapter on politics, and return to the house of 
 Montoyo, showing how the intimacy of Sebas-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 95 
 
 tian with the family of his ancient tutor led 
 this hitherto heart-free monarch, while plan- 
 ning an invasion of a far different character, 
 to suffer from the inroads of a power which 
 through all ages of the world has been the 
 conqueror of the warrior, and not unfrequently 
 the beguiler of the sage.
 
 96 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE ROYAL SUITOR. 
 
 On the return of Dom Christovao from the 
 olisequies of his father, a duty devolved on that 
 young nobleman which his proud spirit but ill 
 brooked. Dom Louis had left directions that 
 his son should present to the King a packet 
 containing proofs exculpatory of the charges 
 which had cost that faithful preceptor the 
 favour of his pupil, or rather the confidence of 
 the Queen-mother : proofs which might be 
 more readily believed by the monarch, as the 
 Da Cameras, originators of these calumnies, 
 had been expelled the court in disgrace ; and 
 Catherine, who, in the sincerity of her own 
 belief, had prejudiced her grandson against his 
 preceptor, had ceased to exist. It was with 
 sorry grace Christovao sought an audience of
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 97 
 
 the King, but the termination of that inter- 
 view opened to the proud and ambitious Mon- 
 toyo the gates of court patronage. Sebastian, 
 convinced of the injustice which had been done 
 to the father, hastened to make every atone- 
 ment in his power to the son ; and Christovao, 
 at heart a courtier, soon made himself so neces- 
 sary to the young monarch, that he obtained an 
 insidious power over him, which promised not 
 only to surpass, but to supersede the influence 
 of every other favourite. 
 
 In the advancement of his ambitious schemes, 
 accident seemed about to give the Marquis va- 
 luable assistance from a quarter whence it 
 might have been the least expected. As the 
 Montoyos had long been under the ban of the 
 court, and the family had only lately removed 
 from the neighbourhood of Oporto to the banks 
 of the Tagus, all but the name of their king 
 was a stranger to the inhabitants of the Quinta. 
 Christovao, brooding in his pride over the 
 career which his father's misfortunes closed to 
 him, had remained in perfect seclusion ; and 
 the Duenna, who was in charge of the domestic 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 matters, felt too indignant at the wrongs heap- 
 ed on so ancient and honourable a house, to 
 allow of their servants and retainers holding 
 communication with the palace. 
 
 It might be imagined, when the old con- 
 nection between the Montoyos and the court 
 was restored, the almost monastic seclusion of 
 the family would have been immediately dis- 
 solved : but it agreed not with Christovao's 
 views that Sebastian should consider him 
 bound by any ties save those which devoted 
 him to the service of his king ; and the 
 bearing of the young monarch when in female 
 society, though polite, after the fashion of the 
 day, did not warrant a belief that he took suf- 
 ficient pleasure in the conversation of the gen- 
 tler sex, to make the introduction of his sister 
 an object of importance to the Marquis. But 
 an unexpected vista suddenly opened, which 
 the ambitious Montoyo hoped might lead to 
 the proudest results. About six months before 
 our tale commences, Christovao and the King 
 lost their attendants in a prolonged chase, and 
 were benighted, during a violent storm, near
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL: 99 
 
 the Quinta. On the Marquis offering the 
 shelter and hospitality of his roof, his royal 
 companion requested that he might be an- 
 nounced as an undistinguished guest; and, the 
 name of Abrantes being the first that occurred 
 to the monarch, it was by this designation he 
 was introduced to Beatrice. Sebastian had 
 never yet known that freedom of intercourse 
 with woman which he on this occasion enjoyed. 
 Warriors and wild sportsmen had been the 
 companions of his toils and recreations; priests 
 and schoolmen the associates of his hours of 
 study. The court of his grandmother had 
 been too much the arena of political intrigue, 
 oppressing the Queen Catherine with its influ- 
 ence, to be gay ; and Sebastian, taught by the 
 severe morality of the elder INIontoyo, shunned 
 those sensual excesses which had long disgraced 
 the noblesse of Portugal, — a moral leprosy yet 
 clinging to the present court of Lusitania. 
 
 The storm continued to rage during the 
 nio-ht which had brought Sebastian to the 
 Quinta ; but, early in the morning, the young 
 King departed. A feeling, novel as it was 
 
 F 2
 
 100 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 pleasing, had taken possession of his bosom. 
 Again and again he visited the abode of 
 Beatrice, but always in his assumed character, 
 and accompanied by her brother; who, with 
 much self-gratulation, conceived that his sove- 
 reign had become desperately enamoured of 
 his sister. Impatient, and spurning restraint 
 on his inclinations, as Christovao knew the 
 King to be, it seemed not improbable that he 
 would break off the negociation which had 
 then commenced on the part of the Spanish 
 court ; and, rejecting an alliance with the pow- 
 erful court of Spain, share his throne with 
 Beatrice de Montoyo. 
 
 Months passed on, the expedition to Bar- 
 bary was on the eve of departing; Sebastian 
 had continued his visits incognito to the Quinta 
 with the Marquis, but his conduct had become 
 more and more incomprehensible to that noble- 
 man. A visible restraint of manner arose be- 
 tween Beatrice and the young King, whose 
 attentions were now so often directed towards 
 Zuma, that Montoyo was prepared to believe 
 an amour existed between the Moorish girl and
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 101 
 
 his royal master ; thus becoming tortured not 
 only with the pangs of jealousy, but with the 
 threatened overthrow of his schemes for the 
 aggrandizement of his family. The discovery 
 which his influence over Zuma had elicited, 
 relieved him from his jealous fears, but his 
 proud spirit had received a wound incurable. 
 From a feeling of pride, rather than affection, 
 Christovao was deeply incensed at what he 
 supposed the deliberate dishonour of his sis- 
 ter ; the more especially when he considered, 
 that had Beatrice become the wife instead of 
 the mistress of the King of Portugal, his own 
 position in the favour of that monarch would 
 have been secured to him, and the highest 
 office of the state open to his ambition. Bitter- 
 ly too did he curse the artful bearing of Se- 
 bastian, which had so completely outwitted 
 him, — outwitted one who prided himself on his 
 superior cunning. He had imagined that he 
 was bending the King to the purpose of his 
 will, and each day expected to hear the decla- 
 ration of his attachment to Beatrice : in this 
 hope had he abstained from showing undue
 
 J 02 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 solicitude in the matter even to his sister ; 
 nor had he confided to her the secret, that, in 
 the simple guise of a Fidalgo, a monarch was 
 their frequent guest. He had judiciously con- 
 sidered that to have discovered this to Beatrice 
 would have defeated his purpose, by destroy- 
 ing the charm of unsophisticated intercourse 
 enjoyed by the lovers ; and now he had the 
 mortification of finding that the most perfect 
 understanding must long have existed between 
 them. The supposition that they were united 
 by the holy rites of the church never once 
 occurred to Christovao, — for why should this 
 have been kept secret from him ? 
 
 The reader, however, will have little diffi- 
 culty in recognising) in the mysterious mar- 
 riage of the Arabida, the nuptials of Beatrice 
 and Sebastian. It now only remains for us to 
 explain the extraordinary deception which had 
 been practised on Christovao, or rather, as this 
 is already apparent, the cause of such deceit. 
 When Beatrice, who only saw in the supposed 
 Abrantes a Fidalgo, the chosen companion of 
 her brother, heard from Sebastian the impe-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 103 
 
 tuous avowal of his love, a new world of hap- 
 piness seemed open to her. The young King's 
 manly frankness, softened and subdued by his 
 ardent desire to please, had not failed in se- 
 curing a deep interest in the heart of the 
 gentle Donna. The consent of Christovao to 
 her marriage with his friend appeared to her 
 as certain ; and, confident of his approbation, 
 she besought her lover not to delay making 
 those explanations which would give her bro- 
 ther's sanction to their attachment. But Sebas- 
 tian did not allow her to remain long in this 
 dream of undisturbed felicity. With an ad- 
 dress which love had taught him, he had drawn 
 from Beatrice a confession of reciprocal affec- 
 tion ; and now, in a burst of grateful ardour 
 that she had loved him for himself alone, he re- 
 vealed to the astonished maiden the proud 
 destiny which awaited her. With this know- 
 ledge of future greatness came the anxieties 
 ever attendant on passages of the heart where 
 royalty loves not as policy directs ; and Bea- 
 trice wished that Abrantes the Fidalgo had 
 never been lost in Sebastian the King.
 
 104 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 The matrimonial negociation between the so- 
 vereigns of Spain and Portugal, — which during 
 the royal lover's constant visits to theQuinta still 
 continued, — had terminated, as we have before 
 stated, in his projected alliance with the daugh- 
 ter of Philip; and that monarch, in consequence, 
 was to supply a subsidy for the African expe- 
 dition. The proposals of Philip had not been 
 made till his secret emissaries at the Portuguese 
 court had informed him that Alcacova strongly 
 pressed the necessity of the young King's ally- 
 ing himself by marriage with some foreign 
 power able to assist him in the contemplated 
 war. Whenever Sebastian lamented the insuf- 
 ficiency of his armament, this minister would 
 urge a policy which was so desirable as an ulti- 
 mate means of giving an heir to the throne, and 
 a present method of obtaining men and arms. 
 To rid himself of these importunities, and to 
 effect what he considered the more essential 
 good to be attained by a matrimonial contract, 
 the King of Portugal accepted the offer of his 
 cousin's hand on the part of Phihp; but, long the 
 object of political intrigue, he failed not to pene-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 105 
 
 trate the designs of the wily monarch, whose 
 sudden anxiety for this alliance evidently arose 
 from a desire to prevent his forming a 
 connection with any other court. When his 
 uncle had aided him to oppose the negociations 
 of the Queen Regent and Pope Pius, Philip's 
 hope of reducing Lusitania to a province of 
 Spain, by the failure of direct issue on the part 
 of Sebastian, had been plainly manifested to the 
 young King ; who now, determined to fight the 
 arch politician with his own weapons, sanctioned 
 the hollow treaty, accepted the promise of a 
 large auxiliary force, and congratulated himself 
 on the knowledge that his uncle would oppose, 
 rather than insist on, his fulfilling the contract 
 which affianced him to his cousin, so long as 
 he did not show an inclination for any other 
 alliance. 
 
 Without detailincr auo^ht that might alarm 
 the delicacy of Beatrice in the dread that she 
 was usurping the right of the Spanish Princess, 
 Sebastian, to the astonishment of his mistress, 
 entreated that Christovao should not be inform- 
 ed even of their attachment, while he yet urged 
 
 F 5
 
 106 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 her consent to an immediate marriage. Well 
 knowing Montoyo^s proud and ambitious cha- 
 racter, the King dreaded his secret might be di- 
 vulged in vain-glorious triumph, were he per- 
 mitted to behold a prospect, however distant, 
 of being allied to the throne; and still less 
 could his silence be ensured, were he made ac- 
 quainted that Beatrice was virtually Queen 
 of Portugal. Thus it appeared to Sebastian 
 necessary for the ultimate well-being of all 
 parties, that Christovao should not be informed 
 of the honour conferred on his sister till cir- 
 cumstances permitted it to be promulgated to 
 the world. 
 
 " I love him already as my brother, but I 
 am not blind to his errors," said the royal lover^ 
 when Beatrice, the day previous to their so- 
 lemn bridal, again besought him that the Mar- 
 quis might be admitted into their confidence. 
 ** From the first day I beheld thee, he has tried 
 to read my heart, and I believe I read his. Hav- 
 ing expressed my admiration of thee in glowing 
 terms, which he truly imagined I had never 
 before used in speaking of woman, I inadver-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 107 
 
 tently required of him that my visit to the 
 Quinta should be kept secret. It was the first 
 beam of thy influence, my Beatrice, which has 
 now risen over my soul, making all that was 
 darkness light." 
 
 The lovers gazed into each other's eyes, 
 and the meeting of lips, which ever fills up the 
 pause in such sweet converse, being at an end, 
 Sebastian continued ; while Beatrice, feeling that 
 she was about to be betra3/ed into an error, 
 was yet anxiously hoping to be convinced of its 
 propriety by the infallible arguments of one, to 
 enthrone whom in her heart she had displaced 
 half the saints of the calendar. 
 
 " Christovao, from the first, meant me to be 
 enamoured of thee. He knew that I had never 
 loved, and naturally supposed, when I became 
 attached, mine would be no common passion; 
 while the credit my friends have ever given me 
 for honourable bearing forbade the thought 
 that I should wrong his sister. Oh, Beatrice ! 
 how have I seen the workings of his heart told 
 by that tell-tale eye of his ! It ever watches us . 
 but I was on my guard, and thou knowest how
 
 108 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 soon I made thee my fair accomplice. Still 
 must thou aid me in peventing the outbursts 
 of his pride. He could not help showing his 
 triumph; his is an honest heart that cannot 
 control its failings." 
 
 Sebastian here spoke from a false philosophy 
 which had ever been his own bane; but his 
 failings were those of a noble disposition. The 
 dark and angry elements of Montoyo's mind, 
 uncontrolled, formed a fearful chaos which 
 found no parallel in the ardent and imprudent, 
 though always ingenuous and generous impulses 
 of Sebastian's heart, from whose excess of vir- 
 tue often arose the wildest errors. 
 
 " I do confess me," replied Beatrice, with 
 downcast eyes, " Christovao might insist on 
 our marriage being made known." 
 
 " Yes, dearest ; and this would peril much to 
 me," impatiently answered the King. " To 
 wed a subject, even so fair a one as thou art, 
 born of a noble line, and still more ennobled by 
 thy virtues, would be in my uncle Philip's eyes 
 a crime : bitterly would he reward it. He has 
 promised an army of brave Castilians to support
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 109 
 
 the expedition : ^vithout this aid I should not 
 half reap the harvest of glory that awaits me; 
 for, though we should doubtlessly overthrow the 
 infidels, we might not be able to keep posses- 
 sion of our conquered towns, and protect the 
 preaching of the Cross throughout Fez and 
 Morocco." 
 
 " Then, if thou dost not get these Spaniards, 
 it would not avert this dreadful war," remarked 
 Beatrice with much naivete, as though she had 
 felt greatly inclined to turn traitor if such a 
 purpose could be effected. A frown for a mo- 
 ment crossed the brow of Sebastian, and the 
 fair girl trembled at what she had said. 
 
 " Nay, Beatrice, do not look so frightened ; 
 thou didst not mean to vex me : but ever bear 
 this in mind, — thy influence when exerted even 
 by a word, a look, a sigh, against the cause to 
 which mine honour has been pledged, makes thy 
 Sebastian feel that he has too much forsaken this 
 holy enterprise in loving thee. Forgive me, 
 dearest ! weep not, but say thou hast forgiven 
 me : ere many months have passed I shall re- 
 turn — return to claim thee as my bride. Nay,
 
 110 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ere to-morrow's midnight thou wilt allow that 
 claim ; but I shall return to declare thee — de- 
 clare thee in the face of day, my wife, my 
 queen ! Heed not what thou hearest while I am 
 away, for christian kings are married by that 
 false priest Rumour to more wives than would 
 stock a sultan's harem. To-morrow, dearest ! — 
 let us think but of to-morrow ! Nicolao is a 
 graceless varlet, and plays me strange tricks 
 by his truancy ; but never has he failed me at 
 my need, when boyish mischief might have 
 brought scandal on the royal perpetrator : thus 
 now I trust him in a graver matter. He will 
 have all in readiness within the chapel of the 
 Arabida : only promise me that our marriage 
 shall be concealed till I permit its disclosure.-' 
 
 The head of Beatrice rested on the broad 
 shoulder of Sebastian, whose face was half 
 hidden in the silken tresses of the lovely girl, 
 as his words reached her ear in impassioned 
 murmurs. What will not woman grant to him 
 she really loves ? A few more faint remon- 
 strances, and Beatrice consented to deceive her 
 brother. She felt that she had yielded up the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. Ill 
 
 duty she owed her natural protector ; she felt 
 that she hazarded her fair fame, and involved 
 herself in the mazes of falsehood ; but the 
 sacrifice was made. Nicolao, a merry-hearted 
 and wilful fellow, who under his light bearing 
 hid a trustworthy devotion to the service of 
 his master, whatever might be required of him, 
 had already been conferred with on the sub- 
 ject, and he was now finally commissioned to 
 make the necessary secret arrangements. How 
 these were effected the reader has seen : we 
 shall therefore without further retrospect con- 
 tinue the thread of our narrative.
 
 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Beatrice, having received quite as little in- 
 formation from the Duenna respecting Zuma's 
 sudden disappearance as that ancient dame 
 condescended to bestow on Dom Christovao, 
 had remained since the morning in a state of 
 uncontrollable anxiety. Ere her brother left 
 the Quinta, she had sought communication with 
 him ; but the Marquis was inaccessible to all, 
 and, much to the distress of Beatrice, forbade 
 any search being made for the fugitive. Zu- 
 ma's hapless affection for Christovao, Beatrice 
 had long suspected ; indeed, the Moorish girl 
 attempted not to conceal from her the feeling 
 of devoted attachment she bore Montoyo. 
 Often had she thrown herself into the arms
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 113 
 
 of her sympathizing friend, and bade her pray 
 the Virgin that strength might be granted 
 to an humble dependant, who had dared to 
 love one so far above her as the patron — the 
 master to whom she was indebted for shelter 
 and food. The affection which Beatrice bore 
 the Moorish maiden, sincere as it was, could 
 not break down the prejudices of education, 
 which made her suppose it impossible that 
 her brother should contract aught but a noble 
 alliance : thus, even while soothing Zuma with 
 the tenderest endearment, the counsel which she 
 thought proper to give on such occasions, had 
 sounded coldly on the ear of the love-sick girl ; 
 it bade her struggle with a passion which could 
 never be returned. That this passion ivas re- 
 turned and ardently by the Marquis, Beatrice 
 had of late suspected ; but, having been the 
 first to break the confidence which from child- 
 hood had existed between Zuma and herself, 
 she forbore interrogation on the subject. The 
 friends mutually perceived that each had a 
 secret hidden from the other ; but, though the 
 mystery in which the Moorish girl had en-
 
 114 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ■veloped herself was inexplicable to Beatrice, 
 the cause of her silence must be evident to 
 our reader. The tale of Zuma's love would 
 have been the confession of her frailty to the 
 sister of her seducer. 
 
 The well-known step of her brother, in the 
 corridor, aroused Beatrice from the perplexed 
 musings Zuma's disappearance had given rise 
 to. Independently of anxiety respecting her 
 friend, she was now suffering from the self- 
 inflicted torture which ever belongs to the 
 possessor of an important secret ; a dread that 
 everything of unusual occurrence, however ap- 
 parently foreign to the mystery concealed, be- 
 tokens its discovery. The Donna Beatrice, 
 who had risen to greet Dom Christovao, had 
 reached the door of her chamber when he en- 
 tered. One glance at the restless glare of 
 those fearful eyes, over which his dark brows 
 met, — a fitting canopy for the almost demoniac 
 fire which shot from beneath them, — and Bea- 
 trice saw that her brother had penetrated a 
 secret, which, rightly elucidated, would have 
 placed him at the summit of his wishes ; but.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 115 
 
 as it then appeared to him, was at once the 
 overthrow of his ambitious schemes and the 
 dishonour of their ancient house. 
 
 We are unwilling to commit to our pages 
 another scene of violence ; and must hurry 
 over an unhappy interview, marked by the 
 unrestrained passion of Christovao, which was 
 met by cool, determined forbearance on the 
 part of Beatrice. Resolved to conceal her 
 marriage, in obedience to the desire of her 
 husband, she had to support the most cruel 
 taunts, and listen to the deepest imprecations 
 almost without reply. Her brother dared not 
 give his authority for asserting that Sebastian 
 had visited her chamber ; but, though Beatrice 
 wondered much how he had made this dis- 
 covery, she asked not for her accuser. Her 
 only return to his bitter reproaches was a re- 
 iteration of the simple sentence, " Do with me 
 as you will ; I am at your mercy !"" 
 
 " Wretched girl!'' replied Christovao, in an- 
 swer to a repetition of this expression of entire 
 submission, " would that thou wert ! — but 
 thou knowest the protector thy loss of virtue
 
 116 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 has raised up for thee in Sebastian of Portugal! 
 — 'Twas a proper barter for a daughter of the 
 house of Montoyo ! — 'Protect me from my 
 brother, and I am thine V Powers of heaven 
 and hell ! that I should live to see thee thus ! 
 — a monarch's paramour ! — the mistress of a 
 king whose throne thou mightest have shared ! 
 — But vengeance shall reach thee yet ! — To- 
 morrow Sebastian embarks ; the day following 
 sails for Africa; and thou — ah! dost thou 
 tremble, minion ? Would I could kill thee, as 
 thy great-grandsire slew his faithless wife ! — 
 entombing thee alive were mercy for a crime 
 so deep as thine ! No, no ! — thou must yet be 
 allowed life to grace thy royal lover's triumph, 
 when, conqueror over the infidels, he comes 
 to claim the Princess of Spain for his bride. 
 He may yet require thy wanton dalliance for 
 a while ; then cast thee off for ever I" 
 
 Beatrice would willingly have asked why 
 it was supposed Sebastian, on his return to 
 Portugal, would seek the alliance of the Span- 
 ish Princess ; but she dared not interrogate 
 the enraged Christovao, who, wearied by the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 117 
 
 violence of his passion, at length left her un- 
 certain of what his intentions might really be, 
 and fearing that her only safeguard was in the 
 protection of Sebastian, — a protection which, for 
 her brother's sake, she would scarcely dare 
 have invoked, had it been in her power ; but, 
 separated from her newly-wedded husband, 
 all means of communication were denied her. 
 The morrow would behold the consecration of 
 the sacred banner at the cathedral of Lisbon ; 
 the King would then immediately embark. — 
 '* Will he again place foot on the shores of 
 Portugal ? Oh ! that I may only live to see 
 his return !" murmured Beatrice as she wept in 
 bitterness of soul. " Christovao will send me 
 to Oporto, — perhaps I shall be imprisoned; 
 but Sebastian will be restored to me. — Holy 
 mother of heaven ! — he surely will not be slain 
 in this war !" and the hapless girl repaired to 
 her oratory, in the fulness of her heart pouring 
 forth supplications for the safety of her hus- 
 band; and earnestly she prayed for strength 
 to bear the trials which awaited her. 
 
 How different were Sebastian's proud mus-
 
 118 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ings on the future ! The happy consummation 
 of his chivalrous expedition once completed, he 
 contemplated a speedy dissolution of the false 
 engagements which bound him to the crafty 
 Philip of Spain. A seeming desire on his 
 part to hasten the fulfilment of their contract 
 would be sufficient to ensure this : and then 
 would arrive the moment when he might pro- 
 claim in the face of Europe that Sebastian 
 of Portugal had married the woman of his 
 choice; that his heart was not brutalized by 
 the sports of the field and the arena of the 
 bull-fight, though he made it not his pleasure 
 to debase his mind by the sensual debauchery 
 of the times ; nor had he, as a monarch, coldly 
 contracted a marriage where his affections had 
 not been consulted. No ! claiming the pri- 
 vilege of the meanest among his subjects, he 
 had wedded to ensure his own happiness ; and 
 gladly would he seize the opportunity of 
 publicly opposing that cold-blooded policy, 
 ever making royal marriages have as delibe- 
 rate a political tendency as the interchange of 
 ambassadors, and rendering such alliances little
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 119 
 
 more than the transfer of interests. Sebastian 
 fondly regarded Beatrice as the gentle wel- 
 comer of his triumphant return to the cares 
 of his kingdom. Happy under his own roof- 
 tree, it would be his proudest ambition to 
 make his subjects sympathize in that hap- 
 piness, by the blessings of a peaceful and 
 righteous government. 
 
 " Let me be bailed the conqueror of Fez 
 and Morocco, I shall then have had enough of 
 war, and will cultivate the arts of peace. Yes ! 
 thou, Beatrice, shalt teach this stern heart of 
 mine those gentler virtues which make not only 
 the king, but the man beloved." 
 
 Thus had the ardent monarch, at his parting 
 with his bride, spoken of the future ; and even 
 in the hurry of warlike preparation would his 
 thoughts revert to her. Little knowing that 
 his departure, after their last meeting, had been 
 witnessed by Christovao, and its unhappy con- 
 sequences, he imagined the wife of his affections 
 in the peaceful retirement of the Quinta, offer- 
 ing up prayers to the saints for his safety in the 
 wars, — his victorious and speedy return.
 
 120 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Poor Beatrice was not wanting in anxiety for 
 the welfare of her royal husband ; but the 
 more immediate fears which weighed heavily 
 on her, threatening, perhaps, a final separation 
 from the object of this devoted attachment, 
 scarcely allowed her to think of the dangers he 
 was braving. Woman as she was, most gladly 
 would she have shared peril and privation with 
 him, rather than be left to the mercy of her 
 brother. 
 
 When Christovao quitted the chamber of 
 Beatrice, he had already determined on the 
 course of action he meant to pursue, though 
 he purposely left his victim ignorant of her fate. 
 At the time of which we write, a monastic 
 establishment of the strictest discipline existed 
 about two miles from St. Ubes, bordering on 
 the glen of the Arabida, which locality we have 
 before introduced to our reader. It was to 
 this abode of penance Christovao immediately 
 repaired after his angry interview with his 
 sister. While riding up the avenue which led 
 to the nunnery, an expression of stern satisfac- 
 tion stole over the features of the Marquis as
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 121 
 
 he regarded the forbidding front of the edifice 
 before him. A structure of the eleventh cen- 
 tury, it had seen many changes : originally a 
 monastic building, and then used as a state- 
 prison during the Moorish supremacy in Por- 
 tugal ; on the expulsion of these invaders it 
 had been given to a sisterhood of nuns; and if 
 not, in the general acceptation of the expres- 
 sion, an engine of state, — had certainly become 
 an establishment much used in the domestic 
 policy of the nobility ; — even royalty, it was 
 said, had been there immured. Many a re- 
 fractory daughter of a noble house, after being 
 subjected to the cruel vigils of the Casa de 
 Pena, — yielding to the decrees of obdurate 
 parents and guardians, — -had bade the tongue 
 forswear the early affection of her youth ; and, 
 while the gangrene of despair was eating 
 deeper and deeper the love-trace of memory on 
 her heart, wedded age and splendid misery. 
 Many a fair girl, who had " loved not wisely, 
 but too well,'** had there disappeared for ever 
 from the home her frailty had scandalized ; 
 where it had become a virtue to condemn, or a 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 duty to forget her. Within the portals of 
 those silent walls she was received, never more 
 to go forth. There the mother's agony or the 
 infant's cry never fell on the ear of pity; for 
 pity would have been thought crime. In a case 
 of this character, a receipt was given for the 
 golden ducats deposited with the unhappy in- 
 mate ; the child was sent to a distant nurse ; 
 while intelligence of the mother's death, when- 
 ever it might occur, transmitted to the head of 
 the noble house she had offended, was the sole 
 account of guardianship usually required. Who 
 could declare by what harshness and cruelty 
 death had been hastened ? 
 
 Such was the establishment in which it was 
 the pleasure of the Marquis de Montoyo to 
 immure the Donna Beatrice. That her seem- 
 ing frailty should have called forth the in- 
 dignation of a brother was most natural ; but 
 Christovao had not felt what he imagined 
 the degradation of his sister, so deeply as the 
 overthrow of his own visions of greatness. 
 Our angry and unholy impulses often affect the 
 character of virtuous indignation, deceiving
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 123 
 
 even ourselves into the belief that we are 
 righteous rather than vindictive judges. Chris- 
 tovao, the seducer of Zuma, who would have 
 scorned the idea of being answerable to Zadig 
 for the dishonour of a sister, considered that 
 Sebastian, King of Portugal, had injured him 
 past redress by taking advantage of the oppor- 
 tunity he had himself afforded him to gain pos- 
 session of Beatrice. The ruin of his royal 
 master by the most consummate treachery was 
 not too severe a retribution for the wrongs 
 done to the house of Montoyo. The contem- 
 plation of his proposed revenge had already 
 taken full possession of Christovao's excited 
 imagination ; and, the arrangements for his 
 sister's reception in the convent completed, the 
 Marquis commenced his homeward way, deep- 
 ly conning over the readiest method of get- 
 ting Sebastian within his power. From this 
 ungenerous and perplexing subject, after a 
 while, his thoughts diverged to Zuma. Cruelly 
 as he had wronged her, she was the only green 
 spot in the scorching desert of his thoughts; 
 a solitary oasis which the whirlwinds of passion, 
 
 G 2
 
 IM LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 raging around, threatened again and again to 
 overwhelm ; but its guardian genius was a wo- 
 man's devotion. Christovao loved Zuma with 
 an intensity which, as a fire, seemed to consume 
 itself with the object it fed on ; and more fre- 
 quently was his affection exhibited in jealous 
 doubts, and consequent bursts of ungovernable 
 temper, than in the soft endearments of re- 
 quited attachment. Often, when absent from 
 her, would he blame his harshness towards a 
 being who lived but in his smile ; and, hasten- 
 ing his return, (such was the discordant demon 
 that seemed to inhabit him,) again for some 
 unmeaning trifle would he trample on the heart 
 that loved him, even in his wrath. The de- 
 velopements of the last few hours had till now 
 scarcely left the Marquis leisure to take him- 
 self to task for his hasty impression of Zuma's 
 infidelity, which led him so cruelly to outrage 
 her feelings. He had promised to return to 
 the goatherd's cottage in the course of the 
 day, and now turned his horse's head in that 
 direction. 
 
 " Poor girl !" thought Christovao, " I have
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 125 
 
 bitterly wronged her ; but how could I have 
 imagined this consummate treachery on the 
 part of Beatrice ? Dear Zuma ! there is one 
 being that loves me, — one being that I can 
 love : never, never will we part. She shall 
 go with me to Africa ; I will at once sug- 
 gest this to her : readily will she accede to my 
 wishes, and become my companion." 
 
 Thus communing with himself, he reached 
 the cottage, where Zuma was impatiently ex- 
 pecting him, not more anxious to see her 
 lover than to learn tidings of the Donna Bea- 
 trice ; for she knew the angry meeting between 
 the brother and sister must have taken place, 
 and dreaded the result. 
 
 " Tell me of Beatrice,'"* said Zuma, disen- 
 gaging herself from the ardent embrace of 
 Christovao, and looking timidly in his face, as 
 if she dreaded the answer she awaited. 
 
 " Zuma, Zuma, it is ever thus when I would 
 for a brief moment be happy P exclaimed the 
 irritated Marquis de Montoyo. *' If you speak 
 of that wretched girl, that disgrace to our 
 honourable name, you will drive me mad. She
 
 126 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 is to suifer for her crime : to-night she will be 
 in the Casa de Pena." 
 
 " And you will let me see her, Christovao ?" 
 soothingly asked Zuma, placing her small hand 
 in the convulsive grasp of her lover, and lay- 
 ing her head on his shoulder; — "you will 
 let me see her, — let me stay with her till your 
 return from Africa? I too should be a Mag- 
 dalen." 
 
 "When thou wishest to become one, Zuma,*' 
 said Christovao, regarding her with a look of 
 stern reproach, " thou hast only to speak. Say 
 thou art tired of loving me, — of submitting 
 to my caprices, — galled by my constant com- 
 plainings of thee, — scared by my passions," — 
 and here his voice trembled with an emotion 
 that was indeed fearful. 
 
 Zuma, with piteous entreaty, besought him 
 to be calm ; and, clinging to his shoulder, lean- 
 ed her head on his heaving breast, and mur- 
 mured, 'Christovao, forgive me! — am I not 
 all thine? I spoke but of remaining with 
 Beatrice till your return : I have no home 
 now. In the Quinta de Montoyo my name is
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 127 
 
 linked with shame and mystery : the Duenna 
 would shun me, — the domestics look strangely 
 on me. Oh, Christovao ■ Christovao ! why 
 am I not thy wife ?" 
 
 Zuma had now touched a chord in the 
 iron breast of her seducer, which, it might 
 be supposed, would have vibrated in the out- 
 pourings of increased passion : but no ; so 
 seldom did the Moorish girl make this appeal 
 to his feelings, that when, as in the present 
 instance, a lamentation over her fallen state 
 escaped her in agony of spirit, it seemed to 
 possess an almost paralysing influence on 
 Christovao. The storm of his rage was past ; 
 he sank into a seat, and drawing Zuma 
 into his embrace, wiped the tears from her 
 eyes. 
 
 " My poor girl, it cannot be ! — thou know- 
 est it cannot !" said the subdued Montoyo. 
 " Could I act but for myself, I would wed 
 thee ; but I am the head of a proud house, the 
 younger branches of which would glory in my 
 mis-alliance. Thou knowest it well, Zuma. — 
 I owe thee more than marriage could repay :
 
 128 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 all that has been bright in my dark and stormy 
 life has come from thee. As a boy, I loved 
 thee, — marked thee for mine own ; and thou 
 wert mine, — art mine ! Zuma, thou shalt 
 not remain in fear of scorn, — though none dare 
 show it thee. Come with me to Africa ; thou 
 hast a bold heart, braver than many a strip- 
 ling lad : I '11 dress thee as my page. Wilt 
 go, Zuma .?'"' 
 
 The radiance of joy which illumined the face 
 of the Moorish girl, as she raised her eyes to 
 meet the inquiring gaze of Christovao, scarcely 
 left occasion for the expression of gratitude 
 and affection with which she hailed this per- 
 mission to accompany her lover. Beatrice, 
 however, was not forgotten : when the Marquis 
 paused in explanation of the necessary arrange- 
 ments for Zuma"'s joining his suite at Cadiz 
 with secrecy and despatch, — as Montoyo, 
 being in immediate attendance on Sebastian, 
 could not venture to intrude her into the royal 
 galley, — again and again did she beseech 
 that Beatrice might not be taken from the 
 Quinta ; or, should Christovao insist on placing
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 129 
 
 her in a convent, that it might not be in the 
 Casa de Pena. Christovao was sternly obdu- 
 rate, and, despite all her entreaties, conceded 
 only one point to her repeated solicitations, — 
 that on the morrow Zuma should have a meet- 
 ing with Beatrice in her new abode. The 
 Marquis, having written on his tablets a com- 
 munication of this permission to the superior 
 of the convent, left them with the Moorish 
 girl, and returned to the Quinta but a short 
 time previous to the arrival of the attendants 
 who were to conduct his sister to her prison. 
 
 A covered litter conveyed the Donna from 
 the Quinta de Montoyo ; not even the Duenna 
 was allowed to accompany her : and though 
 it is but fair to say, that Senhora Saltero's 
 importunities to learn from the Marquis the 
 destination of Beatrice, and the cause of her 
 removal, were loud and many, they proved 
 without effect. Not one of the establishment 
 knew why the unresisting girl was taken from 
 the home of her childhood, save her brother ; 
 and the place of her future abode was equally 
 wrapt in mystery. The carriage was attended 
 
 g5
 
 130 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 by strangers, who refused to answer the ques- 
 tions of the household during their short stay 
 in the Quinta; and the Marquis, soon after 
 their departure with his sister, mounted his 
 horse and rode forth, — but whether for the 
 purpose of accompanying them in their myste- 
 rious journey, or on his route to Lisbon, none 
 of the deeply interested domestics could deter- 
 mine. After escorting the litter to the gloomy 
 portals of the Casa de Pena, secure that the 
 primary step was taken towards dividing Se- 
 bastian from Beatrice for ever, he lost no time 
 in presenting himself before his royal master ; 
 and with smooth self-possession, in answer to 
 the monarch's guarded and formal inquiry, 
 made his customary assurances of the Donna's 
 welfare.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 131 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CONSECRATION OF THE BANNER. 
 
 At an early hour in the morning commenced 
 the procession attendant on the consecration of 
 the Holy Banner ; to which Sebastian, not only 
 from religious but political motives, lent that 
 pageantry so dear to the church of Rome, and 
 blinding to the mass of the people, who, con- 
 tent with the glittering adjuncts of the show, 
 almost forgot how hollow was the occasion 
 which had called it forth. A bitter foretaste 
 of the misery which ever clung to this hapless 
 expedition in its rise, progress, and termina- 
 tion, had already fallen to the lot of the Por- 
 tuguese. Portugal, even in seasons of com- 
 parative abundance, never produces corn for 
 more than three-fourths of its population ; in
 
 132 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 consequence of which discrepancy between the 
 supply and consumption, large importations 
 are annually necessary. 
 
 By the advice of an attached, but in this 
 instance unprincipled, courtier, Doctor Pedro 
 Barbosa, — who likened his royal master to 
 Joseph garnering the resources of Egypt, — Se- 
 bastian, to raise money for the African invasion, 
 became the monopolist of all the imported grain 
 throughout the country. An edict was pro- 
 mulgated, threatening the severest penalties on 
 any purchaser of foreign corn, except through 
 the medium of officers appointed by the crown 
 for that purpose. These persons behaving 
 with a venality which generally marks the con- 
 duct of agents in acts of oppression, the exe- 
 cution of whose duties insensibly undermines 
 principles the most virtuous, Portugal was 
 soon filled with a starving people ; the rapacity 
 of the government commissioners having, for 
 their private emolument, far exceeded the 
 bounds which had been determined for the 
 royal exactions. Retailed from the govern- 
 ment stores, corn had risen fearfully in price,
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 133 
 
 threatening famine to the very multitude who 
 now rent the air with acclamations at a pageant 
 which might be truly called a triumph over 
 the best interests of Portugal. It was the 
 opening of a vain-glorious campaign, uncalled- 
 for by the exigencies of the state ; a war of 
 aggression, sacrificing to Sebastian's zeal for 
 the cause of the Cross and love of conquest, 
 first the bread, and then the blood of his 
 people. 
 
 We cannot be accused of making our hero a 
 faultless monster, nor would we fall into the 
 opposite extreme; Sebastian but yielded to 
 temptations particularly consonant to a dispo- 
 sition of mind which considered little of minor 
 evils, so a great good was effected. The sacri- 
 fices he called on his people to make were in 
 his opinion light, when compared with the 
 glory which a triumph over the Moors must 
 bring to Lusitania; and, could it have been 
 possible, cheerfully would he have borne in 
 his own person every privation inflicted on the 
 humblest of his subjects, to achieve so de- 
 sirable an end.
 
 184 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Amid the throng crowding forward to the 
 cathedral of Lisbon were our friends Nicolao 
 and Padre Chaves. The former had mingled 
 with the crowd, rather than take on himself 
 his share (however small) in the fatigues of 
 the spectacle as an actual performer. Nicolao 
 was, sooth to say, an idle varlet, who, in con- 
 sideration of being intrusted with the keeping 
 of his master's secrets, much as he loved 
 himj considered the bearing of such a mo- 
 mentous burthen a return in full for his 
 wages; and often, when actually required in 
 the royal presence, he was following the bent 
 of his inclinations rather than the business 
 of the palace. 
 
 The Padre, intent on showing his loyalty to 
 his king and his duty to his patron, had 
 purposed reaching the cathedral at day-break, 
 ere the crowd had gathered, that he might 
 place his portly person as conspicuously as 
 possible among the minor ecclesiastics ; but the 
 possession of gold pieces always militated 
 against the churchman's early rising. It was 
 not that his dreams were golden, and conse-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 135 
 
 quently delightful to prolong. It was not 
 that he delayed his natural rest by counting 
 over his store, while poorer men slept peace- 
 fully. No ! it was this : when the Padre had 
 money, he became curious in the matter of 
 wines ; and the ardent pursuit of such a pleas- 
 ing branch of experimental philosophy robbed 
 Chaves of much beauty sleep. He had, as he 
 promised Nicolao when the fifty pieces were 
 placed at his disposal for charitable uses, 
 liberally interpreted the servitor's intimation, 
 and proceeded on an interesting inquiry direct- 
 ed towards all the wine-stores in Lisbon. It 
 was proper that an inteUigent churchman, like 
 Padre Chaves, should make himself acquainted 
 with the particular temptations lurking in the 
 different sorts of dangerous beverages inimical 
 to both bod}^ and soul. With the commoner 
 order, he flattered himself, few Padres were 
 more conversant ; and if an exordium had been 
 required, urging his hearers to abandon every 
 variety of " vinho de termo^'' making its per- 
 nicious growth in and upon the neighbouring 
 vales and plains, their spiritual shepherd could
 
 136 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 have carried his flock, in imagination, on a most 
 edifying pilgrimage. He could exorcise each of 
 these spirits of the land by name, and hold it 
 up to the abhorrence of all good Catholics, 
 with due mention of its peculiar flavour and 
 strength in newness and age, in brilliancy, 
 colour, and body, together with its effect on 
 the human frame ; so that every thirsty soul 
 might tell the nature of the liquid demon he 
 had to deal with. But it had been long 
 Padre Chaves* ambition to increase his know- 
 ledge in this his favourite study of vinous 
 poisons : indeed, if the priest did not actually 
 originate the idea of a temperance society, he 
 had very nearly arrived at the necessary con- 
 clusions ; and, having lately been enabled to 
 enlarge the sphere of his usefulness, he had 
 become a greater martyr than ever to the 
 cause of sobriety in experimentalizing on the 
 intoxicating properties of the dangerous fluids. 
 The Padre and the servitor met accidentally, 
 each surprised to see the other. They were 
 just then in sight of the cathedral, but the 
 crowd was so dense that it admitted not of
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 137 
 
 their penetrating to the gates of the edifice : 
 so the two friends, placing themselves in a 
 favourable position to view the procession at 
 a moderate distance, fell into immediate col- 
 loquy. 
 
 *' Not in buff, back and breast-piece, Ni- 
 colao !" exclaimed the priest : " why, man, does 
 not thy master go to the war with our King ; 
 or is he more prudent than valorous, like Dom 
 Juan de Mascasenhas ? I thought to have 
 seen thee riding in the procession, as artifi- 
 cially encased in steel as thou art naturally 
 enshrined in brass." 
 
 " Mind not me or my master," replied Ni- 
 colao rather sharply ; " I expected not to have 
 seen thee here ; but, as we have met, we must 
 not part till I make a clean breast of my rage 
 with thee." Here Nicolao caught hold of 
 the Padre's arm, and, putting his mouth to the 
 red, capacious ear of the churchman, sharply 
 whispered, " Who was the priest at the chapel 
 of the Arabida ?" 
 
 " Who, my son ? — why, who should it have 
 been but the Padre Chaves, thy good and
 
 iSS LEGEND AND ROMANCE, 
 
 true friend?"'* replied that worthy, somewhat 
 abashed at so home a thrust. 
 
 " Ay, Padre, that is a question easily an- 
 swered. Who should it have been but Padre 
 Chaves ? I say no other under the sun, — for 
 he alone engaged to be there." 
 
 " And there I was," said the priest, recover- 
 ing his effrontery. " Who says I did not per- 
 form the ceremony ?^* 
 
 "I, — thou shameless father of the church, 
 and son of the father of lies," said Nicolao, 
 half-smiling at the Padre's impudence. " Had 
 it mattered one jot who married the parties, — 
 so they remained undiscovered, — I could ex- 
 pose thee in a quarter where it would go hard 
 with thee." 
 
 " I do not care for thee, or thy master, 
 Senhor Nicolao," retorted Chaves. " I tell 
 thee I was there, though I liked not the 
 office." 
 
 " Truly, then, thou hadst left thy paunch 
 at home, and brought no stomach to the busi- 
 ness," said Nicolao laughing ; " for the priest 
 I saw emerge from the chapel, was thin and
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 139 
 
 tallj not built like a bull as thou art. I slept 
 at St. Ubes that night, and had to cross the 
 glen at sunrise, when he glided past me like 
 a spectre : who should have been in the chapel 
 if thou hadst secured the key, as thou didst 
 promise ?" 
 
 " Some one who had another that fitted it 
 as well," stoutly answered the Padre. " But, 
 Nicolao, since thou art so hard upon an old 
 friend, I know not why I should not bring 
 thee to task. That bag of thine was short of 
 fifty by two."^ 
 
 " Priest," with mock gravity responded the 
 servitor, " keep but an account of the lies 
 thou tellest each day, and 111 warrant thou 
 wilt count fifty from sunrise to sunset so 
 often, that the number will come glibly off 
 thy tongue. Dost think I took the paltry 
 pieces ? " 
 
 " No, no, my son! — I did but jest," has- 
 tily replied the priest, for it was no part of 
 his policy to ofi^end the court retainer ; " give 
 me thine hand; we will talk no more of the 
 past."
 
 140 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Nicolao was too merry-hearted to remain 
 long angry ; so peace was ratified between the 
 disputants in time to allow of their lending 
 proper attention to the procession, which was 
 now approaching. A squadron of Portuguese 
 cavalry advanced in close order, the sun shin- 
 ing on the helmets and cuirasses of the horse- 
 men, while their gallant chargers tossed their 
 heads as if in time to the points of war sounded 
 by a corps of trumpeters which followed them. 
 These preceded a body of German infantry, 
 veteran soldiers, lent to the expedition by the 
 Prince of Orange. A detachment of Italian 
 mercenaries came next, headed by their brave 
 leader, Sir Thomas Stukely, who, instead of 
 making a diversion in favour of papal supre- 
 macy in Ireland, — the original intention of these 
 adventurers, — had been induced to take service 
 under Sebastian. The English knight and his 
 warriors were mounted ; though the greater 
 portion of this auxiliary force, then awaiting 
 embarkation in another part of the city, was 
 infantry. On the above-mentioned troops
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 141 
 
 reaching the cathedral, they conjointly formed 
 three sides of a square, to receive the grand 
 pageant of the procession, — the sacred banner. 
 Two heralds, bare-headed and riding abreast, — 
 old men, \\ho could ill support the honourable 
 but weighty blazonry of tabard with which 
 they were decorated, — first slowly advanced. 
 Then came the Archbishop of Lisbon, amid a 
 crowd of priesthood in the pompous garb of 
 their various orders : these surrounded rather 
 than preceded the banner ; on one side of which 
 was the sacred symbol of Christ crucified, while 
 the reverse bore, gorgeously emblazoned, the 
 arms of Portugal. On the right of this holy 
 standard rode the king, mounted on a beautiful 
 white Arabian horse, a present from a vassal 
 prince of India. Rich trappings in lattice- 
 work, embroidered in gold of damask on cloth 
 of gold, and studded with pearls, formed the 
 costly housings of this splendid animal. But 
 on its rider were the eyes of the shouting mul- 
 titude fixed. Nicolao had nearly forgotten, in 
 the pride he exhibited at the gallant appearance
 
 H2 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 of the King, that Padre Chaves was by his 
 side, who imagined him the servitor of a Senhor 
 Abrantes, some humble Fidalgo of the court. 
 
 " Why, man, thou art the most loyal subject 
 in Portugal," said the Padre as he pulled at 
 Nicolao's iacket, who, jumping up to get a bet- 
 ter view of his lord, was at intervals exclaim- 
 ing, " Blessings on his handsome face ! — the 
 saints bear him harmless ! — the kindest master, 
 the warmest friend, the bravest prince in Chris- 
 tendom !" 
 
 There were many others, though not so in- 
 timate with Sebastian's nobleness of heart and 
 kindly disposition, then gazing with pride and 
 affection on their young monarch, who certainly 
 at that moment looked " every inch a king."*"* 
 He wore a blue coat of Genoa velvet, em- 
 broidered with flat gold of damask, barred with 
 lace of woven gold. A blue guard or upper gar- 
 ment was worn above this, the sleeves of which 
 were slashed with cloth of gold, each aperture 
 fastened at the extremity by a ruby button, set 
 round with orient pearls. His bonnet, which 
 was decorated with invaluable gems, though it
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 143 
 
 concealed his lofty brow, hid not his fair but 
 manly features, and the glance of his bright 
 blue eye, — now fixed on the flag that waved be- 
 side him, and now lighted up with enthusiasm 
 as he gracefully bowed in answer to the vivas 
 of his people. Diego Lopes de Segueira, the 
 admiral of the expedition, rode close to the 
 King : his coat of dark velvet was fastened with 
 large trefoil clasps of gold, not far short of four 
 hundred in number ; at least, so says the record 
 from which we take our description. A splen- 
 did cortege of Portuojuese noblesse now fol- 
 lowed, each noble vieing with his compeer in 
 the costliness of his appointments ; and the 
 whole procession was closed by cavaliers and 
 men-at-arras, drawn from the different foreign 
 auxiliaries of the army. 
 
 The chaunt, the swell of high-mass is heard 
 in the cathedral, and, bursting the confines of 
 the sacred pile, rises into the clear atmosphere. 
 The prayers of king, priesthood, and people 
 ascend to the throne of Heaven ; the banner of 
 Portugal is consecrated, and placed under the 
 guardianship of Dom Louis de Menezes, chief
 
 144 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 standard-bearer. Once more the proud pro- 
 cession forms ; the monarch returns not to the 
 palace, he has ceded the cares of royahy. 
 The Duke of Braganza, the Archbishop of 
 Lisbon, and the Bishop of Coimbra form a re- 
 gency, allowing him to go forth the leader of 
 this new crusade. Fresh troops now fall into 
 the line of march; the pageant is lost in the 
 sternness of military array, and reaches the 
 shores of the Tagus : — Sebastian of Portugal 
 has embarked on his rash, though chivalrous 
 expedition. The young king of an ancient 
 people, the hope of millions, has turned him 
 from the arts of peace, thrown aside the scep- 
 tre of justice and paternal rule, left the harvest 
 unreaped, the vineyard un tended, and the halls 
 of his nobles desolate ! He has gathered around 
 him churchmen and statesmen, chiefs and war- 
 riors, — the veteran of a hundred fights, — the 
 boy who pants to emulate his fame ! The 
 peasant is there, with the lord who claims his 
 vassalage ; the Moor is there, to fight against 
 the land of his sires, with the master who holds 
 him bondsman ; the captain is there, with his
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 145 
 
 free company of mercenaries, — alas ! for their 
 freedom ! like the gladiators of old, they are 
 sold to wounds or death, — and the swelling 
 waters of the Tagus bear on their impetuous 
 tide a hundred barks torn from the gainful toil 
 of commerce, — ^catacombs of the living, carry- 
 ing youth and strength, high hope and manly 
 beauty, to one red field of sepulture ! 
 
 VOL.
 
 146 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ** CASA DE PENA. 
 
 We have already said that it was evening 
 when Beatrice was conveyed from the Quinta 
 Montoyo. She had been placed in the hands 
 of strangers by a brother whose bearing was 
 ever wanting in affection, and whose anger she 
 had now roused : such a reflection was suffi- 
 cient to cause anxiety respecting her future des- 
 tiny. She believed that Christovao was about 
 to place her in a convent ; but it was well for 
 the Donna's self-possession that she knew not 
 the character of that convent. Beatrice had 
 passed beneath the dark archway which led 
 into the interior of the building, ere she was 
 aware that her journey had terminated. As- 
 sisted from her litter by one of the sisterhood, 
 she found herself in a quadrangle surrounded
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 147 
 
 by overhanging galleries, the shadow of their 
 abutments deeply contrasting with the pale 
 azure radiance of the summer night. A foun- 
 tain in the centre of the square was playing 
 within a circular reservoir, the disturbed sur- 
 face of which reflected the gleam of the cres- 
 cent moon just risen above the convent walls: 
 broken by the tremulous waters, it seemed as 
 if the calm light of Heaven could find no rest- 
 ing-place in that abode of cruelty and super- 
 stition. But a single attendant of those who 
 had conducted her from home had been ad- 
 mitted through the gateway. Silently the man 
 gathered the reins of his horses together; and 
 Beatrice watched him repass the portals, as 
 though, even in this sullen stranger, a friend 
 were departing. The heavy gates, shut with 
 a jarring sound by an old lay sister, roused the 
 Donna from the dull apathy of despair which 
 was stealing over her. 
 
 " Oh ! my beloved father !*" she exclaimed, 
 her clasped hands raised in supplication ; " why 
 art thou not on earth, to save thy daughter 
 from this living death ?" 
 
 h2
 
 148 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 " The father of a daughter coming here, 
 Senhora Inez, as thou hast come to-night, is 
 better with the saints in glory, than living to 
 curse his degenerate child.'^ 
 
 " Inez !" said the Donna Beatrice, turning 
 on the speaker, who was now, with the excep- 
 tion of the portress, the only person she per- 
 ceived in the quadrangle. 
 
 " Yes, Senhora Inez Sampayo." And the su- 
 perior, for such she soon declared herself to 
 be, came close to the astonished Beatrice, and 
 whispered, " By no other name are you known 
 here ; dispute my authority in this, or aught 
 else, and your temerity will merit its punish- 
 ment." 
 
 A mandate put forth in such terms by the 
 Mother Ursula was not likely to be disobeyed. 
 She was a tall, stately woman, whom age had 
 withered, but not bowed. The hood of her 
 monastic dress was sufficiently thrown back to 
 exhibit the harsh outline of her features : she 
 waved her hand towards a door in a wing 
 of the building, and Beatrice, silently passing 
 before her, felt the chilling influence of her
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 149 
 
 lustreless eyes. After they had threaded se- 
 veral narrow passages, the superior bade her 
 hapless companion enter a small cell ; and 
 sternly intimating that bread and fruit should 
 be brought, " though now past the usual 
 hour of refection^" the new penitent was left 
 to commune with her own sorrows. In the 
 little dormitory allotted her the usual adjuncts 
 to meditation were not wanting. There was 
 the black wooden cross rising behind a small 
 table on which was placed a well-worn missal, 
 and that restless emblem of mortality, which 
 is ever snatched from the dead to be made 
 the companion of the living — a skull. The 
 promised refreshment ere long was brought by 
 the portress, who placed it before the discon- 
 solate Beatrice. Seated on the low pallet 
 which was to be her bed, she had slowly raised 
 her head as the old woman entered. Coldly 
 she regarded the official of the convent with 
 the despairing gaze of one who never again 
 expected to look on a friend, when an ex- 
 pression of surprise and recognition burst 
 from the lips of the lay sister; and, at the
 
 150 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 same moment, hope, which had ahuost de- 
 parted from the Donna Beatrice, once more 
 rallied in her bosom, as the features before 
 her came to her recollection. The portress 
 of the convent was the mother of a deceased 
 favourite servant, whose long sickness and 
 even death the Donna and Zuma had sooth- 
 ed by the most unwearied attentions ; and the 
 gratitude of her bereaved parent had been 
 proportionately expressed. The hand that was 
 held out by Beatrice was ardently pressed, 
 but as instantly dropped by the old woman : 
 whispering " To-morrow at matins," she turn- 
 ed round to depart, in time to meet the supe- 
 rior, who had followed her. The appeal for 
 protection, which arose to the hapless girPs 
 lips, was unuttered ; while the bitter conscious- 
 ness that she was indeed a prisoner was made 
 but too fully evident, for, as the door closed, 
 an iron bar fell into its staple. Beatrice sank 
 at the foot of the cross, and long and fervent 
 were her prayers to Heaven for succour and 
 resignation. 
 
 The night was passed in sleepless musings.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 151 
 
 " To-morrow," thought the bride of Sebas- 
 tian, " my husband, the king of a powerful 
 nation, going forth to give a throne to its right- 
 ful possessor, will embark in the vessel which 
 is to bear him from Lisboa ; and the only hope 
 which stands between his forlorn wife and con- 
 tinual imprisonment, perhaps even more violent 
 coercion, is the protection of an aged woman, 
 the mother of a menial. And how can her 
 feeble aid avail me ? the inclination may not 
 be wanting, but has she the power ? Oh that 
 I had dared to supplicate my brother ! — Oh 
 that I could have told him the secret of my 
 marriage — Sebastian ! Sebastian ! what have I 
 not suffered for thee ?" 
 
 The sound of the matin-bell found Beatrice 
 still engaged in the like meditations. The bar 
 was removed from the door of her cell, and she 
 looked anxiously for the friendly features of 
 the portress in the sister awaiting to accom- 
 pany her to mass, but quickly perceived she 
 was a stranger. Beatrice's heart sank within 
 her at this disappointment. Clothed in the 
 dress of a novice which was brought her, she
 
 152 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 followed her conductress to a small chapel; 
 and here she was directed to take her sta- 
 tion by the side of several unhappy-looking 
 creatures, garbed after the same fashion as 
 herself; but whether they were penitents, or 
 candidates for the veil, Beatrice caj-ed not to 
 conjecture : she was gazing round her in ex- 
 pectation of beholding the lay sister Agatha. 
 A screen divided the group in which the 
 Donna was placed, from the open part of the 
 chapel : through this she could remark that 
 but a small congregation knelt before the steps 
 of the altar ; these were for the most part 
 peasants, and nowhere could she see the 
 portress. The forlorn Beatrice had just come 
 to a conclusion that the superior must have 
 heard the recognition of the previous night, 
 when a low voice reached her ear without the 
 screen, sighing forth, as if in an aspiration of 
 devotion, " Saint Beatrice protect us !" 
 
 The Donna was too anxiously alive to the 
 slightest signal from Agatha not to ascribe 
 this exclamation to its proper source. She 
 gradually withdrew a short distance from her
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 153 
 
 companions during the chanting of the mass, 
 which had now commenced, and had the 
 satisfaction of beholding the lay sister kneeling 
 behind a pillar with her head resting against 
 the screen. To put herself in a similar posi- 
 tion was the work of a moment ; and in answer 
 to Beatrice's softly whispered '' Speak, mother ; 
 I am here ;" Agatha murmured, " I have not 
 forgotten your goodness to my poor Maria, 
 who is now a saint in heaven." Agitation here 
 made her voice inaudible for a moment. The 
 next sentence her breathless auditor could 
 catch was, '* A broken heart, if not a speedier 
 death, awaits you in this place. As your name 
 has passed from you, so will your life. You 
 are supposed to be the daughter of a Fidalgo, 
 immured in this convent as a punishment for 
 an amour with a servitor of low degree." 
 
 Beatrice sobbed in agony of spirit, but tears 
 were of such common occurrence among the 
 penitents that no one noticed her. 
 
 " Get but lover or friend to assist me, and 
 you shall be free," continued the lay sister. 
 
 " I have none,'" replied the sorrowing girl ; — 
 
 h5
 
 154- LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 the secret of her interest in the most powerful 
 of protectors, Sebastian of Portugal, trembled 
 on her b'ps, — " Yes ! go to the King ; he will 
 save me !" Had the portress heard her ? 
 When she raised her head from the screen, the 
 nook behind the pillar M^as unoccupied ; the 
 cause was in a moment evident. Mass being 
 about to conclude, Agatha had suddenly re- 
 tired to the duties of her situation. 
 
 " Alas !" thought Beatrice, " I am morally 
 culpable of having broken my promise to 
 Sebastian ; and it is well that I am unheeded. 
 But oh ! would he not rather proclaim me his 
 queen before the assembled world, than let me 
 perish here ?" 
 
 The same sister who had before conducted 
 Beatrice now preceded her to the cell. Many 
 a melancholy eye she beheld turned on her 
 by the young creatures who seemed her com- 
 panions in misery as she passed, but none 
 of these unfortunates dared address her ; and 
 Beatrice remarked that several other sisters 
 were in attendance outside the screen, as if 
 each took charge of a penitent to her place of
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 155 
 
 durance. The Donna had nearly arrived at 
 her xrell, when several of the lay sisters ap- 
 proached, bearing preparations for the morn- 
 ing refection. Among them she perceived 
 Agatha. The nun who walked before Bea- 
 trice hastened her steps as she was thus re- 
 minded of the meal in progress, for which the 
 cold air of the chapel had no doubt given her 
 an appetite. And, as the attendants passed, the 
 Donna had little difficulty in drawing nearer to 
 her humble friend, who w^hispered " Vespers i 
 — The Senhor s name ?" 
 
 Beatrice answered not. — The secret of her 
 royal husband was safe. — The lay sisters had 
 passed on, and ere vespers Sebastian would 
 have sailed. Hope was now extinct, for where 
 was she to look for another protector ? The 
 nun returned to the cell with a meagre allow- 
 ance of bread and dried grapes, which, with 
 a small jug of water, the prisoner was given to 
 understand was to form her morning meal. 
 The bread was coarser than that supplied by 
 the superior's orders the preceding evening; 
 and, for the fresh fruit which had been then
 
 156 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 allowed her, were substituted a few bunches 
 of grapes, withered and nauseous from want of 
 care in their preservation since the last vintage. 
 A thorough change of dress was at the same 
 time brought for the prisoner, being the com- 
 plete habit of a penitent, with the addition of 
 an under-vest of horse-hair. A visit from the 
 Mother Ursula followed these indications of pe- 
 nance and mortification, when Beatrice had to 
 undergo the most searching interrogations re- 
 specting the particulars of her supposed crime. 
 She had no means of determining if this cun- 
 ning and unfeeling woman had really received 
 any particulars of her offence, according to the 
 knowledge Christovao was himself possessed of 
 on that subject, or whether this inquisition was 
 merely intended as a sort of mental torture; 
 but she resolutely, though mildly, refused to 
 answer the questions proposed ; and conse- 
 quently received a philippic, which concluded 
 by the helpless girl being ordered to remain 
 that evening, from vespers till midnight, in the 
 chapel. Many, too, were the pater-nosters, and 
 long the penitential psalms, which Beatrice,
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 157 
 
 with the apathy of despair, heard allotted her 
 for this solitary vigil. Confused by the con- 
 tinued address of the superior, — whose voice, 
 lately emphatic in the height of her indigna- 
 tion, had now subsided into a cold, monoto- 
 nous intonation which seemed eating its way 
 through the ear, to wear away the brain, — 
 Beatrice perceived not that a packet had been 
 delivered to the Mother Ursula by a nun, 
 who, with downcast eyes and attitude com- 
 posed into the rigidity of submission, awaited 
 an answer. 
 
 The sudden intimation that a messenger 
 from her brother required to see her in the 
 parlour of the convent, little as she had to ex- 
 pect comfoft from such a quarter, brought 
 forth tears which the cruel and undeserved re- 
 proaches of the superior had failed to elicit. 
 Preceded by the cold dignitary of the establish- 
 ment, and followed by the attendant nun, the 
 prisoner was conducted to meet the emissary of 
 Dom Christovao, whose letter of privilege had al- 
 lowed half an hour's unrestrained conversation ; 
 an indulgence which the superior determined
 
 158 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 should be the last of its kind, but which she 
 could not in the present instance refuse, as the 
 Marquis had not yet left the shores of Por- 
 tugal. 
 
 That the Moorish girl was the visitor, the 
 reader need not be informed ; nor is it to be 
 wondered that the sight of such undisguised 
 happiness as marked the meeting of Beatrice 
 and Zuma should much have scandalized the 
 propriety of the convent. The superior in con- 
 sequence dismissed her attendant, lest the nun, 
 who had passed forty years in the establishment, 
 should suddenly recover any of her natural 
 affections as to things belonging to the world. 
 For herself, she believed that her heart was too 
 well steeled against such unholy impulses to 
 dread contagion : so, turning a glass which 
 would mark the allotted half-hour, she betook 
 herself to a corner of the apartment, watching 
 now the anxious and excited countenances of 
 the two friends, and now the running sand 
 that should terminate their interview. After 
 the first joy of meeting had subsided, the same 
 restraint which had latterly rendered their in-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 159 
 
 tercourse painful returned in double force, each 
 feeling assured that the confidence of the other 
 had departed from her. The anxious inquiry 
 of Beatrice, why Zuma left the Quinta, was 
 readily answered by the Moorish girl, who had 
 previously determined on making as little al- 
 teration of the fact as the concealment of her 
 secret meetings with Christovao would allow. 
 She informed Beatrice that the departure of 
 Sebastian from the corridor had been witnessed 
 by the Duenna, and his visit supposed to have 
 been directed to Zuma's apartment. After this 
 portion of her tale was told, with a glowing cheek 
 — which Beatrice thought blushed for very 
 shame that her friend, who was the real culprit, 
 had so fallen, — she could with truth say that 
 the Duenna had urged her to leave the Quinta. 
 But when Beatrice fell on her neck, lamenting 
 with tears that the companion of her youth, 
 whom she now perceived must have been ac- 
 quainted with the visits of Sebastian, should 
 have allowed a doubt to rest on her own fair 
 fame rather than betray her friend, the Moor- 
 ish girl felt, that another moment, and she
 
 160 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 must discover all. That she had made a pain- 
 ful sacrifice in behalf of Beatrice she was con- 
 scious, and thus she considered these thanks 
 and regrets might be, in some degree, her due ; 
 but that Beatrice should dwell with such deep 
 gratitude on her having silently borne the un- 
 just imputation of departure from maidenly 
 virtue for her sake, — with an agony, as the dis- 
 tressed girl imagined, increased by contrasting 
 her own frailty with the purity of her friend, 
 — called the deep crimson to the brow of the 
 conscious Zuma. 
 
 " Let us not speak more of it,*" she exclaim- 
 ed, turning away her head from the look of 
 affection and admiration with which Beatrice 
 was regarding her. " I am not so good, — so 
 pure, as your attachment for me would believe ; 
 but think not of me, I ask not for your secrets — 
 Could you reveal them, I know you would not 
 hide them from one who loves you with the de- 
 votion of a sister. But how are you to be taken 
 from this frightful place ?" and here Zuma's 
 voice sank to a whisper as she saw the cold eye 
 of the superior turned suspiciously toward her.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 161 
 
 " I know that Abrantes is the King. — Will he 
 not protect you, Beatrice ? Tell me, tell me ; 
 shall I go to him and declare Christovao's 
 cruelty? And yet the Marquis means you 
 well : his heart is noble ; he cannot intend 
 you harm. He places you here but for pro- 
 tection till his return from Africa." 
 
 Poor Zuma, while asking if she should ap- 
 peal to the King for the liberation of Beatrice, 
 had suddenly become conscious that, in so 
 doing, the anger of Sebastian might endanger 
 her lover ; and thus she, who had but a mo- 
 ment before exclaimed against Christovao's 
 cruelty, now faltered forth excuses for his 
 conduct, and dreaded lest Beatrice might ac- 
 cept the offer she had rashly made. From 
 this anxiety she was relieved by the reply of 
 her friend, who saw in Zuma's agitation only 
 an eagerness to ascertain in what way her ser- 
 vices might be most available, — whether she 
 should be allowed to seek Montoyo or Se- 
 bastian. 
 
 " No, Zuma, no !" answered Beatrice ; *' my 
 brother believes he is avenging the honour of
 
 162 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 our house. I blame him not, nor would I call 
 down Sebastian's anger on him. It is no time 
 to ask you by what chance you discovered 
 he was our king ; but aid me in flying to him. 
 I need not then say why I came ; but only that 
 I will share the dangers of war, ay, even 
 death with him, rather than this dreadful life, 
 and separation." 
 
 Impassioned as had been much of the fore- 
 going conversation, it was carried on by the 
 friends in a tone of voice which prevented the 
 superior from overhearing it ; but now Beatrice 
 in almost breathless whispers continued, 
 
 " You must have remarked the portress at 
 the gate; she is Agatha, whose daughter 
 Maria we nursed at the Quinta last summer, 
 till the poor girl died. — You remember the old 
 woman's gratitude. — She has promised to aid 
 my escape. — This morning she spoke to me in 
 chapel. This evening, at vespers, I am to tell 
 her how assistance can be afforded from with- 
 out these horrid walls. — Oh, Zuma, where am 
 I to look for succour ?" 
 
 " To my brother ! — to Zadig !" answered the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 163 
 
 Moorish girl. " You know how complete is 
 his devotion to you. He is now at Cintra 
 with the Senhor Camoens, and can easily be 
 called to our aid." 
 
 '' I believe in the sincerity of his interest in 
 my welfare," rejoined Beatrice ; " and it is not 
 now a time to refer to the depth of that interest, 
 which alone makes it painful that I should 
 apply to him. Tell me where the lay sister 
 may find you, and then it will be easy to 
 carry on a communication between all the par- 
 ties who so generously endanger their own 
 safety for mine." 
 
 Zuma had scarcely time to make the neces- 
 sary explanation ere the Mother Ursula remind- 
 ed the friends that their interview must imme- 
 diately terminate. "With many tears they part- 
 ed ; and Zuma had the mortification of being 
 conducted to the entrance of the convent by the 
 superior, entirely preventing communication 
 between herself and the portress, who was 
 anxiously waiting to avail herself of this oppor- 
 tunity. The gates closed against the disap- 
 pointed girl ; and, comforting herself that the
 
 164 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 lay sister would soon know her abode, she 
 mounted the mule which had brought her to 
 the convent. Followed by a boy, to whose care 
 she had been committed by the goatherd, she 
 now retraced her homeward way, determined 
 to postpone all pending arrangements for her 
 voyage to Cadiz till the Donna Beatrice could 
 accompany her.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 CAMOENS. 
 
 Where Beckford's palace of a day, is now, 
 like a solitary painted sepulchre, crumbling to 
 the dust, once stood a small dwelling, the porch 
 of which, mantled with the clustering vine, 
 looked out on the fair scene before its em- 
 bowered portals, as if inviting some worshipper 
 of nature there to make his hermitage. Young 
 orange-trees, redolent of fruit and blossom, 
 threw their grateful shade around; and the 
 breath of morning, and the dews of eve, came 
 ever to that lonely abode laden with fragrance. 
 Bounding the narrow mule-track winding 
 through the neighbouring dell, mountain crag 
 and steep rose into the still air, — for the winds 
 hushed themselves to rest ere they visited the 
 vale of Cintra; — and long pendent plants,
 
 i66 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 flaunting their gaudy flowers amid foliage em- 
 browned by the glowing sun, hung from rock 
 to rock, till the barren peaks burst from their 
 leafy bondage, and, glaring awhile in the broad 
 eye of day, laved their heads in the misty clouds 
 of Heaven. Such was the home of Luis de 
 Camoens. The bard, disgusted with the cold 
 bearing of the court towards him, — where a 
 cabal to exclude him from the favour of Sebas- 
 tian existed among the most influential of 
 that monarch's ministers and favourites, — had 
 withdrawn himself to Cintra, and in the retire- 
 ment we have described would fain have for- 
 gotten the stirring world without its sanctuary. 
 This abode had been purchased by Camoens 
 shortly after his arrival from India. He had 
 returned to his native shore poor in coin, but 
 rich in hope, and richer still in the possession 
 of that writing on the scroll of fame, — though 
 not then unrolled to the world, — which was to 
 remain inviolate when the beacon of his earthly 
 hope had become ashes, and the hand which 
 traced the immortal characters of the Lusiad 
 had forgotten its cunning in the grave. In the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 167 
 
 expectation of achieving not only fame, but 
 profit, by the publication of his transcendent 
 poem, the bard had made himself proprietor of 
 the little Quinta at Cintra; which, though it 
 contained but three rooms, and its garden 
 scarcely as many roods of ground, was too 
 costly a purchase for the disappointed poet. 
 A certain portion of the price demanded by 
 the original proprietor was however paid, and 
 the new possessor installed. Here lived Ca- 
 moens, twice the benefactor of his country : 
 the solitary bard of Lusitania, who alone of 
 his compatriots is worthy of taking his station 
 among the children of song ; — the horticultu- 
 rist who first reared the orange in Portugal. 
 Previous to his return from India he had 
 transmitted plants from Macao ; and now a 
 nursery of sapling encompassed Camoens"* home, 
 where the tendrils of the vine, original occu-^ 
 pants of the soil, crept round their green bark, 
 as if jealously wrestling with the infant tree 
 which was one day to make Portugal as famous 
 for the orange as the grape. 
 
 We have been long hovering about the
 
 168 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 poef s dwelling, let us now enter, — for it was 
 here the messenger of Zuma found Zadig, the 
 humble friend rather than the servitor of Ca- 
 moens. The misfortunes of men of genius 
 have again and again been dilated on : among 
 the minor of these, it may be remarked that 
 the face and form of the most distinguished 
 among the literati and lights of the world have 
 been generally in an inverse ratio to their men- 
 tal superiority. The bard of Portugal was 
 seated at a table, intently writing. The severe 
 outline of his features was illumed by the 
 power of thought which beamed in the solitary 
 eye early misfortune had left him ; and the short 
 beard, gathered round the mouth and chin, was 
 crisply curled. Toil and sorrow, not age, had 
 silvered the once-golden hair of the poet, and 
 slightly bowed a form that was squarely set, 
 — more calculated for endurance than grace 
 of movement. Zadig, who at a distant part 
 of the room was preparing a frugal repast 
 for his master in a kind of earthen stove, 
 seemed oftener engaged in watching Camoens 
 than in paying attention to his task. He was
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 169 
 
 a tall, athletic Moor, the fine oriental character 
 of whose features might have belonged to a 
 dweller on the banks of the Indus rather than 
 a native of Barbary. His eyes were large, 
 dark, and lustrous ; his black hair, parted in 
 the centre of his forehead, curled in long ring- 
 lets till it met the small compact beard ot 
 early manhood, through which his wavy ex- 
 pressive lip and well-formed teeth were dis- 
 tinctly shown. 
 
 A knocking at the door of the little Quinta 
 disturbed the contemplations of Zadig and 
 their object, — the employment of his master. 
 This unwonted occurrence at their silent and 
 solitary dwelling proved to be an application 
 for admission on the part of the boy to whom 
 Zuma, guiltless of letters, had entrusted a 
 verbal communication, couched in terms suffi- 
 ciently urgent to ensure a visit from her bro- 
 ther, without specifving why she required to 
 see him. This message delivered in the porch, 
 and the messenger directed to await an answer, 
 Zadig returned to Camoens' apartment, and 
 with respectful confidence addressed him : 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 " Master, I have spoken to you of my sis- 
 ter ; she is in danger or difficulty, for she bids 
 me come to her." 
 
 " And thou shalt go, Zadig. Thou surely 
 didst not wait to hear me say this, ere thou 
 gavest an answer to her bidding.'* 
 
 " Master, I feel certain that much is want- 
 ing of me, or Zuma would not have thus 
 strongly pressed my coming. I know not 
 when I may return," rejoined Zadig musingly, 
 — apparently more distressed at the necessity 
 for his leaving Camoens, than the bard, who, in 
 losing the services of his only domestic, knew 
 not where to look for another. 
 
 " Call me not master, Zadig ; thou knowest 
 I am not thy master, but thy friend, — ay, 
 thy obliged friend, — the friend thou hast work- 
 ed for harder since I have broken thy bonds, 
 than any bond-slave in Portugal. Tell the 
 messenger, in the evening thou wilt be with 
 thy sister. I must this day return to Lisboa, 
 and we will journey thus far together.*" 
 
 Zadig no longer disputed the kind permis- 
 sion of the bard, and, after dismissing the boy,
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 171 
 
 with much anxiety awaited till Camoens should 
 again address him. The young Moor regard- 
 ed his master — for so he still loved to call 
 him, though he had been legally enfranchised, 
 — with the veneration of a disciple, and never 
 presumed to commence a conversation. De- 
 sirous as he then was of ascertaining the 
 cause of their return to Lisbon, he remained 
 silent. They had within the week left that 
 city, the poet having purposely withdrawn 
 himself from the court rather than witness the 
 departure of Sebastian for Africa. Camoens 
 had in his '* Lusiad" encouraged the King's 
 generous though imprudent ardour for this 
 expedition, while less enthusiastic advisers op- 
 posed the inclinations of their monarch: now, 
 these unwilling conceders to the royal will 
 were bidden to the contemplated triumph ; and 
 Camoens, forgotten, neglected, — ay, even an- 
 other bard called forth from comparative ob- 
 scurity to share in the glory of the war, and 
 sing the victories of the Cross in the land of 
 the infidel. 
 
 The poet had resumed his writing, which he 
 
 I 2
 
 172 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 continued but for a short time : as if reading 
 the anxious inquiry depicted in Zadig's expres- 
 sive countenance, he replaced his papers in a 
 box before him, and said with a smile, 
 
 " We have much to do ere evening. The 
 Senhor Pirez was here this morning when thou 
 wert at the village ; and, commending the im- 
 provements worked around these once bare 
 walls, — for unsightly he owned they were when 
 we took them in possession, — gratefully he 
 insinuated that it mii^ht not be convenient for 
 me to pay the rest of the purchase-money, — 
 and the sum already advanced was sorry rent 
 for so pretty a hermitage. Indeed, the Senhor 
 wished occasionally to reside in the Quinta, — 
 Lisboa did not agree with his delicate health : — 
 he was fearful he could not find an abode to 
 suit him. Oh, Zadig ! thou wouldst almost 
 have smiled, though not given to such fooling 
 of the muscles, to have watched how one poor 
 solitary truth was masked by many lies. The 
 meaning of the matter was, — out of the Quinta 
 thou shalt go, Camoens ; — thou canst not pay 
 what thou owest me, for thou dost get poorer
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 173 
 
 and poorer : thou art out of favour at court, 
 and out of the abode thine own orange-trees 
 have made beautiful, thou shalt go r 
 
 The bard had commenced his recital with 
 a smile, for he would willingly have cheered 
 his servitor ; but a tear stole down his furrowed 
 cheek ere he had concluded. 
 
 " Yes \" said Camoens, apostrophizing the 
 fragrant little grove that waved before the 
 open casement, " I have made a bower for the 
 honey-bee, hung with golden lamps : the way- 
 farer may laugh at the poet's fancy, as though 
 I had woven a chaplet of flowers that must 
 wither and die; — but a time shall come when 
 the thirsty traveller shall drink of the fonts of 
 that tree throughout the land: — ships shall 
 freight themselves from its branches, and the 
 maiden hear the song of Camoens beneath its 
 boughs, — breathed by a lover's voice, — as, cul- 
 linor the fracrrant blossoms, he binds them on 
 her brow, and wins her for his bride," 
 
 Zadig had almost forgotten the distress of 
 the poet in listening to the impassioned out- 
 pourings of a spirit that was bright to the
 
 174 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 last, — glowing amid disappointment, and sor- 
 row, and premature old age: a flame which 
 desolation could not quench, — the lamp of a 
 sepulchre. 
 
 " Master, I will not quit you !'' at length 
 exclaimed the Moor, breaking the spell which 
 seemed to chain him to silence. " Whatever 
 may be demanded of me, I will return to you, 
 
 — abide by you ! Our stars are not to be 
 divided. You smile at the belief taught me 
 by the sage of the Nile who abode in my 
 father's dwelling : — though we may part in the 
 house of life, we shall meet in the house of 
 death ! There is a sign of peace between us, 
 
 — and has there not been peace ? There is a 
 sign of love, — and has there not been love ? 
 There is a forsaking, and it must be that we 
 part : but, master, — nay, do not, do not smile, 
 
 — you have travelled in lands where the celes- 
 tial influences are believed in and taught. 
 The Eastern Magi bid the stars reveal the 
 destiny of man : — experience may teach the 
 humblest believer. What great event can we 
 look back on but was foretold by astrology ?
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 175 
 
 The newly initiated read the approaching won- 
 der, yet doubt that it will come : — behold, even 
 as the stars have forewarned does the event 
 arrive ! That which was doubt becomes cer- 
 tainty ; and he who trembled that the mysteri- 
 ous science he had embraced was a juggle and 
 a cheat, is confirmed in his belief, that learned 
 men since the days of the Chaldeans, have not 
 banded in brotherhood to propagate a lie.*" 
 
 '* Zadig," said Camoens, still smiling in spite 
 of the Moor's grave countenance, when soli- 
 citing his serious attention, '• I pretend not 
 to read the stars, but methinks I can read the 
 book where the fate of each man is written : 
 it is even his own heart. Thou art agitated 
 at the message just delivered to thee, and it 
 has stirred up the depths of feeling. There 
 are impulses working in thy breast which 
 thou wilt not analyse, but wouldst rather 
 graft them on thy wild theory of a star-writ 
 destiny, — an impelling fate. Stop ! I lis- 
 tened long to thee, and would now, in my 
 turn, be understood, — ay ! make thee under- 
 stand thyself. Thou lovest thy sister — I know
 
 176 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 thou dost: thou wert but a stripling when, as 
 thou hast told me, through the burning rafters 
 and glowing walls of thy father's house thou 
 didst bear her forth ; — haply into the arms of 
 those who, having killed the sire, did make his 
 children prisoners ; but thou hadst saved her 
 life. Yes, Zadig, thou lovest thy sister. Thou 
 hast watched her ever and anon, when oppor- 
 tunity hath permitted thee, with a jealous, 
 anxious love. Though well pleased at her 
 adoption, as a child, into the family of De Mon- 
 toyo, thou hast since had a restless dread that 
 the specious Dom Christovao — he who is twin- 
 ing himself round our monarch's heart, trust 
 me, but to sting him, — loves thy Zuma and is 
 loved in return. Thou hast never told me this; 
 but, on thy return from visiting the Quinta, 
 thou hast talked, even in thy sleep, of in- 
 fluences that must be watched, — and thou wert 
 wretched. Boy ! boy ! why hast thou not 
 long ere this taken me into thy counsels ? 
 Zuma should have been warned of her dan- 
 ger — the influences not watched with the eye 
 of a fatalist, of an astrologer, who measures
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 177 
 
 day by day the coming of the rock which is 
 to crush him. Zuma, if feeling aught of love 
 for Christovao de Montoyo, should have been 
 snatched from his protection before her hap- 
 piness was completely wrecked. The Marquis 
 will not make her his wife ! Her blood and 
 thine may be ancient among thy people, but 
 the Montoyos boast a long line of unmingled 
 Christian ancestry." 
 
 " Spare me, my master ! I may have been 
 inert ; I was wrong in not asking your advice : 
 but how could a wretched stranger in a foreign 
 land give protection to a sister, who was her- 
 self a captive ? Had I stolen her from the 
 Quinta, where could I have bestowed her .?" 
 
 " Even here," answered Camoens; " it is 
 the unfortunate that ever feel for the unfor- 
 tunate — the poor for the poor — the oppressed 
 for the oppressed. But, Zadig," continued the 
 bard, speaking in the deep tone natural to 
 him when his feelings were powerfully excited, 
 *' there was another vision mingled with thy 
 dreams of the Quinta, — the fair Beatrice I 
 
 Thou hast never talked of her in words that 
 
 I 5
 
 178 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 spoke of love ; but when together we have 
 watched the stilhiess of eve descending o'er 
 the vale, broken only by the distant herds- 
 man's cry, the goat-bell tinkling on the 
 mountain track, or the song of the muleteer, 
 rising and falling in the windings of the 
 glade ; — when the orange blossom gave forth 
 all its sweetness, and the floweret held open 
 its cup to drink of the dews of heaven ; — when 
 earth was alive with the emerald brightness of 
 the beetle and the lizard, and man, at that 
 hour gratefully sharing in each created insect's 
 joy, felt that it was enough of happiness to 
 live; — it is then, Zadig, that I have ever lis- 
 tened for the name of Beatrice from thy lips : 
 nor have I kept silence in vain. ' The green 
 lizard abounds in the gardens of the Quinta ; 
 the Donna Beatrice loves to watch them, as we 
 see them now, taking their farewell of the 
 setting sun.' — ' How beautiful the contrast be- 
 tween the two friends ! — the Donna Beatrice 
 fair as the Houri of a Christian's paradise—' 
 And then wouldst thou forget to paint thy 
 sister ; but, wandering on, talk wildly of creeds,
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 179 
 
 and blame all human distinctions, as only made 
 to keep hearts asunder which love hath joined. 
 Again and again hast thou bid me tell thee 
 tales of Christian maidens wedding Moorish 
 cavalieros ; and in the stillness of that summer 
 eve I have heard thee, as thou didst turn 
 away, curse the adverse stars that wrecked 
 the fortunes of thy fallen house. Zadig, even 
 now," said Camoens, placing his hand gently 
 on the shoulder of the young Moor, and look- 
 ing inquiringly into his face, ** anxious as 
 thou art about thy sister''s welfare, thou dost 
 ponder more after what manner the Donna 
 Beatrice may be connected with the bidding 
 thou hast received, than of Zuma and the 
 Dom Christovao's love." 
 
 " You have indeed probed my heart to 
 its lowest depth, my master," replied Zadig. 
 " It might have been better that I had asked 
 your counsel ere this. But what might have 
 been better ? — there was no better for the 
 past. Events are in themselves a whole, — we 
 fashion not their various parts as finite man 
 would fondly imagine; nor could we have
 
 180 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 worked that change which ever mocks us in the 
 vain regrets of retrospection. Yet why should 
 I weary you with this philosophy ? learnt as 
 a boy, and grown strong in the man, it is 
 now ray creed — religion — among the many 
 men profess. Take your repast, Senhor ; I 
 will then get you a mule for your journey. 
 Where will my master abide in the city of 
 Lisboa?" 
 
 " Even in the humblest lodging that may 
 be obtained," answered Camoens ; " I would 
 willingly that it should be near the convent 
 of San Domingos ; my old friends, the Bene- 
 dictine monks, will be a solace to me. By this 
 time the King hath embarked on the Tagus, 
 and waits but a favourable wind to take him 
 on his voyage. Ungrateful Sebastian !" sigh- 
 ed the poet ; " the flatterers around thee, 
 failing in bending thee to their purpose, now 
 laud thy glorious design. But who stood by 
 thee when the Da Camera's iron influence 
 would have fettered thine actions, — would have 
 cramped thy resources.? Who poured the tide of 
 song to keep thee true to thine own glory and
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 181 
 
 to the Holy Cross ? Even Camoens. But Ber- 
 nardes is to sing Sebastian's triumph ! — -be it 
 so ; I have lived too long. Wonder not, Za- 
 dig, that I talk thus plainly before thee," said 
 the bard, who had, as was his wont, now soli- 
 loquized or rather apostrophized aloud, and 
 now apparently addressed the young Moor, — 
 " I have no secrets from thee — none from the 
 whole world. — Happy Bernardes !" 
 
 Camoens here sank into a state of musing, 
 which Zadig presumed not to interrupt ; and 
 we shall now, with the reader's permission, in- 
 troduce a far different colloquy carried on be- 
 tween our old friend Padre Chaves, and Sister 
 Agatha, on her return from a visit to the goat- 
 herd's cottage.
 
 }82 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 A SECRET REVEALED. 
 
 The portress, in whom gratitude had created 
 an ardent wish to succour the benefactress of 
 her child, seemed by this desire to have at- 
 tained a shrewdness which belonged not to her 
 general character. Although she regretted the 
 breach of trust which would mark her conduct, 
 she comforted herself with the thought that 
 the Mother Ursula had been the first to break 
 faith. She had been engaged as the portress 
 of the convent ; but, many painfully irksome 
 offices having been imposed on her, she had 
 determined on leaving the nunnery rather than 
 be made the instrument of the superior's 
 cruelty in coercing the unfortunate penitents, 
 when, discovering in one of these the Donna 
 Beatrice, she resolved on rescuing her. To
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 183 
 
 effect this, the chain of action was perfect in all 
 its parts except one, which materially influenced 
 the efficacy of the whole. There existed a 
 secret entrance to the Casa de Pena which was 
 known to Agatha : this, terminating in a grotto 
 within the glen of the Arabida, was used only 
 when a penitent, to whom a more than ordinary 
 mystery attached, was received at the convent ; 
 and as a medium of escape it was preferable 
 to the principal entrance, since, communicating 
 with the vaults of the chapel, approach to it 
 from the habitable parts of the building, was 
 less liable to cause observation. Impressions of 
 the keys which commanded this passage had 
 been obtained by the lay sister, placed in 
 Zuma's hands, and through Zadig's instrumen- 
 tality it was intended that fac-similes should 
 be prepared : but Agatha had only once seen 
 the Arabida entrance opened, and this was 
 from within, when accompanying the superior 
 in her office as portress ; she was aware that 
 assistance was necessary from without, but 
 how to be applied remained a mystery to her. 
 The day following the visit of Zuma to the
 
 184 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 convent, the lay sister had requested permission 
 to go to Lisbon for the ostensible purpose of 
 obtaining from a notary the proceeds of a small 
 annuity which she drew periodically. Before 
 attending to this business she had carefully ex- 
 amined the grotto, but the irregular masses of 
 rock which there presented themselves, to the 
 uninitiated eye, defied all conjecture as to the 
 locality of the opening. Here was the diffi- 
 culty which promised to defeat the plans of 
 Agatha for the rescue of the Donna Beatrice ; 
 and, after communicating with Zuma on her 
 return from Lisbon, she was proceeding to- 
 wards the convent in deep thought how she 
 was to make the desired discovery without 
 exciting suspicions as to her intentions, when 
 she was overtaken by Padre Chaves, jogging 
 along on his mule. He hailed her with his 
 usual ** Benedicite;" and controlling the amble 
 of his beast, so as to keep pace with the 
 pedestrian, commenced a conversation, which 
 the lay sister eagerly entered into for reasons 
 which will in due course become apparent to 
 the reader.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 185 
 
 *' Benedicite, sister! I do know thy features, 
 but thy name strikes me not at this moment." 
 
 " I am Agatha, portress of the Casa de Pena, 
 and mother of the maiden whose death-bed 
 your reverence attended at the Quinta Mon- 
 toyo," replied the lay sister. 
 
 '* Doubtless, and a good daughter of a good 
 mother she was," rejoined the Padre : " know- 
 est thou aught of the Quinta now, or of its 
 former inmates ? There is a change within its 
 walls, sister, which it is sad to see. I v,ould 
 give much to discover where the Donna Beatrice 
 has been spirited to, and have just been think- 
 ing that thy convent is not an unlikely place 
 for the Marquis to have chosen as a place of 
 security for the maiden. 'Tis said there has 
 been a variance between the two. Dost happen 
 to know anything of the matter, worthy sister .^^ 
 
 The Padre was allowing his sentences to 
 glide forth with the blandest intonation; but 
 Agatha scrupulously weighed every word he 
 uttered, hoping to detect the real meaning of 
 his questioning. She had suddenly recalled 
 to recollection that Padre Chaves was the con-
 
 186 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 ductor of the penitent whose reception at the 
 Arabida entrance she had witnessed ; thus 
 showing his connection with the convent, and 
 leaving her in considerable dilemma whether 
 this might be turned to advantage, or was only 
 to be regarded as a new danger threatening the 
 defeat of her enterprise. 
 
 " You do not answer me,'* remarked the 
 priest, after a pause, during which the old 
 woman was mentally debating how far it might 
 be prudent to trust him. 
 
 " There is little I can have to tell your 
 holiness," faltered Sister Agatha, " when your 
 reverence is the confessor of the family, and 
 must know more of its concerns than so hum- 
 ble a person as myself.'' 
 
 " I tell thee, woman," cried the Padre, 
 nearly at the pitch of his voice, — for he was 
 waxing impatient, and, though blandly he com- 
 menced the conversation, bitterly had he been 
 crossed that morning, — " I tell thee, I know 
 less than the least about the Quinta ; — more 
 shame to those who have kept their confessor 
 in ignorance ! The Marquis is on board the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 187 
 
 King's galley ; and to-morrow, so but the wind 
 changes, will sail for Tangiers or Cadiz, — 
 whichever is to be the first post of this African 
 expedition on its way to ruin. The Donna left 
 the Quinta the night before last with strange 
 conductors, to go no one knows where ! — the 
 Senhora Zuma had disappeared the night be- 
 fore that, nobody knows how ! — and, to make 
 the matter more confused, the Senhora Duenna, 
 after sending me word to come and advise her 
 in a world of troubles, — for so runs her message, 
 — never stays for my coming, but, it seems, by 
 orders of the Marquis, goes off to the castle 
 in Entre Douro e Minho, I suppose to scold the 
 servants and worry all the establishment, — 
 nobody knows better how to transact such 
 matters ; — but to treat her father confessor thus 
 is past my comprehension. I believe Sebas- 
 tian's enterprise has driven the whole world 
 mad. Dost know, sister, the old Jose told me 
 that the Marquis had taken the key of the 
 wine-cellars with him ! It was an ill-advised 
 thing. There are wines shut up which re- 
 quire inspection. For his own sake I regret
 
 188 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 it, — as these may spoil. For the sake of society 
 at large I lament it, — for access to those vaults 
 might have materially assisted the working 
 out of my theory on the intoxicating pro- 
 perties of vinous fluids : — a treatise, sister, 
 that will go far to set aside the hideous crime 
 of drunkenness." 
 
 *' It would have a blessed effect could it do 
 so," responded the portress. " Your holiness 
 is a learned churchman, and well acquainted 
 with everything a Padre should know."' 
 
 " Thou dost not come so near the fact as I 
 could wish, sister, in respect to the Quinta : I 
 know little about that matter. This morning 
 did I even betake myself to the side of the 
 royal galley, determined to see the Doni 
 Christovao ; and the only answer I received 
 was, that ' the Marquis de Montoyo, being in 
 attendance on the King, could not be spoken 
 with.* He shall rue it, he shall rue it !" 
 muttered Padre Chaves to himself, " by the 
 keys of St. Peter, I would give something to 
 know how to vex him !" 
 
 This oath, which had a jingle of the wine-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 189 
 
 cellar keys about it, was lost on the lay sister, 
 but she readily perceived that the priest was dis- 
 pleased with his late patron, and thus ventured 
 hesitatingly to remark, 
 
 " If it were not for one reason, I could tell 
 your holiness a little about the Donna Bea- 
 trice : yet I dare say your reverence is going 
 to make a visit to the Mother Ursula." 
 
 " No, trust me am I not !"' replied the 
 portly Padre with an involuntary start, which, 
 acting on the rein of his mule, brought the 
 animal to a stand-still. " I mean," said the 
 churchman, recovering his self-possession, " 'tis 
 an honour I do not lightly take on myself. 
 There is a pious and most awe-inspiring bear- 
 ing about thy superior, which is highly edify- 
 ing; and, though she is the weaker vessel, I 
 always feel myself a better man when I have 
 left the convent, after an hour passed in listen* 
 ing to her zealous methods for the recovery of 
 backsliders from the righteous fold of our holy 
 Catholic Church. Methinks the Inquisition 
 which has newly come among us for the sup- 
 port of our immaculate faith, might learn a
 
 190 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 lesson from the pious Mother Ursula, for 
 whom I have the profoundest veneration.*" 
 
 Here the Padre bowed to the neck of his 
 mule, and a short pause ensued. 
 
 " You were going to tell me something re- 
 specting the Donna Beatrice," said the church- 
 man, again breaking silence. '' Think not I 
 shall mention aught that you may communi- 
 cate ; consider thyself at confession, sister. — 
 It is proper that the priest who has had the 
 spiritual charge of the Donna's family should 
 know somewhat of her place of concealment, 
 for such it seems, from her best friends."" 
 
 " She is in the Casa de Pena," respond- 
 ed Agatha, frightened at her temerity in 
 betraying the secrets of that prison-house 
 in a quarter where there was a chance, how- 
 ever remote, of the superior becoming ac- 
 quainted with her departure from the disci- 
 pline of the establishment. 
 
 " There, now ! I thought so,"" said the 
 Padre ; " and why couldst thou not have told 
 me this, without such circumlocution .^"
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 191 
 
 " The rules of our convent forbid us speak- 
 ing outside the walls of what passeth within,"" 
 meekly responded the lay sister; " and I 
 should not now have presumed to mention such 
 matters, had I not recollected your reverence 
 to have brought a penitent to the secret pas- 
 sage of the Arabida grotto ; which, proving 
 your holiness no stranger to the affairs of the 
 convent, there can be no harm in speaking/' 
 
 " Not in the least, sister ; I pray thee tell 
 me all thou know est of the Donna Beatrice." 
 
 Thus invited to confidence, Agatha nar- 
 rated the introduction of Beatrice into the 
 convent, — the fasts and vigils which had 
 already been imposed on her ; and dwelt 
 long on the harshness of the superior, though 
 under covert terms, ascribing all the Mother 
 Ursula's measures to pious zeal for the cause 
 of religion and morality. 
 
 " As the Donna Beatrice is said to have 
 been forgetful of what is due to these holy, 
 virtuous obligations, and in want of such 
 wholesome discipline, I suppose all must be
 
 192 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 right. And yet it will be the death of the 
 poor Donna," concluded the lay sister, with a 
 deep sigh. 
 
 " The saints forbid T' ejaculated the Padre. 
 
 " Such was the fate of the unhappy girl your 
 holiness brought to the secret entrance,*" softly 
 rejoined Agatha with downcast eyes. 
 
 " I suspected as much ; — between ourselves, 
 sister, I am of a tender disposition, and like not 
 such harsh doings. It is not likely I shall 
 trouble the secret entrance of the Arabida 
 again." 
 
 " Your holiness spoke of trouble," said the 
 lay sister. " There is not much trouble in 
 making the door fall, I believe, — though I never 
 could tell how it was done, — from the outside." 
 
 " Eh !" cried Padre Chaves, opening his 
 mouth and eyes wide as he prolonged the ex- 
 clamation ; " thou art twisting my sayings 
 strangely ;'* — then compressing his lips and 
 dropping his chin into the fat folds of his neck, 
 his custom when in deep thought, after a pause 
 he continued. 
 
 " Dost want to know the way to open the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 193 
 
 secret passage ? There now — don't make a 
 denial of it ; thy sex is ever curious, and 'tis 
 but a natural wish for a portress to make her- 
 self acquainted with the doors in her charge. 
 The sixth rock on the left of the inner compart- 
 ment of the grotto has a small cross cut on it ; 
 put a strong staff beneath this, and thou canst 
 roll it away. The rough stone above is the 
 entrance, which will then fall on being unfas- 
 tened from within. Commend me to the Donna 
 Beatrice, sister ; I wish her well through her 
 troubles. Thou shouldst be kind to her ; she 
 was a gentle mistress to thy daughter. The 
 saints take thee into their holy keeping ! I must 
 not idle longer, for I ride to St. Ubes;" and 
 Padre Chaves put his mule to a gentle amble, 
 leaving the lay sister astounded at his late 
 address. 
 
 That the particular information he had 
 vouchsafed to her was in consequence of a sus- 
 picion that she had especial reasons for wishing 
 to be made acquainted with the secret means of 
 egress from the convent. Sister Agatha could 
 not doubt ; and his readiness to aflPord such in- 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 formation, together with his significant remark, 
 that she should be kind and grateful to the 
 Donna Beatrice, seemed strangely in connection 
 with the scheme of escape in progress. The 
 lay sister thus came to a conclusion, that she 
 could not measure wits with the Padre. Trust- 
 ing, however, that she had not committed her- 
 self to an enemy, she pursued her way rejoicing 
 at having elicited from the kindly-hearted 
 priest the information required, and arrived 
 within the walls of the convent before vespers ; 
 when she took an opportunity of communicat- 
 ing to Beatrice that all was well.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 195 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 The day arrived on the night of which the 
 persecuted Donna's escape was to be attempted. 
 Zadig had entered into the scheme with an 
 avidity which recked not of consequences if 
 success were insured. He asked not why Bea- 
 trice had fallen under the displeasure of her 
 brother. Zuma had not disclosed this to him, 
 and he sought not to pry into a secret which 
 was purposely withheld ; but one inquiry had 
 he made, — the ultimate destination of her 
 friend. To this the reply of his sister was 
 painfully mysterious. 
 
 " Do not ask me, my brother ; the answer 
 would but pain you. Look on Beatrice as 
 one whom you may serve, — rescue from peril, 
 perhaps even death ; but who in return can 
 
 k2
 
 196 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 only ofFer an affection such as I bear towards 
 you." 
 
 " It is a cruel destiny," sighed the fatalist ; 
 " but I have said I will succour her ; and, if 
 I am called on to bear the Donna to the arms 
 of another, my flesh may quiver as though a 
 brand were scorching its way to my heart, — 
 but I will do her bidding !" 
 
 Zuma's agitation of mind had completely 
 incapacitated her from performing any part 
 in the liberation of her friend. In no path of 
 the maze amid which she was entangled could 
 she look for self-approval. She had betrayed 
 the secret of Beatrice to retain the affection 
 of her lover ; and now she threatened that lover 
 with danger, or at least thwarted a purpose 
 in which he believed his honour deeply in- 
 volved, to relieve her friend from the conse- 
 quences her betrayal had induced. Did she 
 look to the future, hope nowhere illumed the 
 darkness which seemed gathering round her. 
 To continue the mistress of the man she loved, 
 was the fairest promise of her youth, her
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 197 
 
 womanhood ; and a blighted fame must go down 
 with her to the grave. 
 
 Before Zadig, without exciting suspicion, 
 could get the keys made which were to open 
 communication with the subterraneous passage, 
 several days necessarily elapsed. Zuma had 
 been refused a second interview with Beatrice, 
 who was now suffering from every corporeal 
 as well as mental penance which could be im- 
 posed on her by the inventive cruelty of the 
 superior : meanwhile, the Moorish girl had 
 little occupation but to brood over the de- 
 struction of her young hopes. She was not 
 yet eighteen ; — what a prodigal had she been 
 of youth, purity, and happiness ! All, all 
 seemed to have passed from her ; even her 
 heart had become old with care : — the fresh- 
 ness of her spirit had departed. Zuma was 
 sick both in mind and body when it was 
 necessary that the attempt should be made to 
 liberate Beatrice ; and, unable to accompany 
 her brother to the glen of the Arabida, could 
 only await the accomplishment of his enter-
 
 198 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 prise at the goatherd's cottage, where it had 
 been arranged that the two friends should 
 make their abode in secrecy ; Jacinta not being 
 aware that she was taking on herself the serious 
 responsibility of concealing a penitent belong- 
 ing to the Casa de Pena. 
 
 The moon seemed struggling with the flying 
 masses of clouds which passed across her full 
 orb, as if, in her solitary brightness, she were 
 attempting to stem the gathering of some dark 
 storm, when Zadig found himself at the en- 
 trance of the grotto which opened about half-a- 
 mile from the convent gates. By the aid of a 
 lantern he discovered the rock which had been 
 described to him, and commenced displacing 
 it, expecting to wait yet a quarter of an hour 
 ere the falling of the stone above would an- 
 nounce to him that Beatrice and the lay sister 
 were at the entrance. To his astonishment, no 
 sooner had he removed the rock from its bed, 
 than the concealed door revolved, and the 
 Moor with great difficulty escaped being borne 
 to the earth by the suddenness of this occur- 
 rence. A sort of drawbridge presented itself,
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 199 
 
 across which he now momentarily expected to 
 see the fugitives pass, though it then wanted 
 several minutes of the half-hour past midnight, 
 the time appointed by Sister Agatha. The 
 dark void remained undisturbed ; and Zadig, 
 dreading that some unhappy chance had dis- 
 concerted the arrangements of the portress, re- 
 solved to know the worst. Concealing the lan- 
 tern within a fold of his cloak, he sprang into 
 the chasm. All was silent. Throwing a gleam 
 of light on the low, damp walls from side to 
 side, he proceeded a few steps : the ground 
 trembled beneath his feet ; a low, rumbling- 
 sound made him turn towards the entrance he 
 had just quitted, — the rock had closed, — the 
 drawbridge had risen. Instinctively the Moor 
 clasped a stiletto with which he had provided 
 himself, but spoke not. After a breathless 
 pause, he proceeded to examine the door which 
 had apparently entombed him in a sort of 
 vault. It was made of iron plates, bolted to 
 the exterior mass of stone ; — a heavy bar across 
 it had fallen into strong staples on either side, 
 and become immovable. Placing his back
 
 200 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 against this mysterious obstruction to his exit, 
 he threw the whole power of his lantern into 
 the passage before him. It was tenantless ; 
 nor could he see an opening to the right or 
 left of the few yards, that close atmosphere 
 allowed the influence of his light to extend. 
 This ready access to the passage and subse- 
 quent enclosure within its recesses, was per- 
 fectly inexplicable to Zadig ; but, nothing ap- 
 pearing to oppose his ingress to the convent, 
 he determined on proceeding, though his re- 
 treat seemed cut off, and the undertaking had 
 assumed a character for which he was not pre- 
 pared. Once more shading his lantern, he re- 
 commenced his noiseless progress through the 
 passage. After a gradual descent of some few 
 feet, the ground suddenly rising, he stumbled 
 and fell ; his lantern became extinguished by 
 this accident, and at the same moment a scream 
 sounded through the vaulted way. Zadig was 
 in a moment on his feet. In that cry of dis- 
 tress he heard the voice of Beatrice ; and, 
 stretching out his arms on either side, he 
 rapidly threaded the dark course before him.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 201 
 
 The lay sister had been the unwitting cause 
 of the young Moor's discomfiture. The chapel, 
 which was often used as a place of penance till 
 the midnight hour, happened that night to be 
 without a penitent ; and, as the time approach- 
 ed for the liberation of the Donna Beatrice, 
 she could not restrain her impatience to try 
 the keys which had at day-break been con- 
 veyed to her by Zadig. The originals of these 
 were always hung in the apartment of the 
 superior ; and it was only as she attended that 
 dignitary's inspection round the convent at 
 night, when it was her office to bear them, that 
 she had been enabled to take the impressions 
 of their wards on a piece of taper softened 
 for the purpose. One of the facsimiles thus 
 obtained was to open a door beneath the stone 
 pulpit of the chapel ; the other loosed the 
 cross-bar at the entrance to the grotto. Just 
 before midnight the lay sister tried the former, 
 and succeeded in moving the bolts of the lock ; 
 but with such difficulty that her faith was 
 shaken in the models so surreptitiously pro- 
 cured. She was thus determined to try the 
 
 K 5
 
 202 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 efficacy of the remaining key ere she kept her 
 appointment with the Donna Beatrice. Pass- 
 ing rapidly through the subterraneous passage, 
 she had the satisfaction of finding that the bar 
 could be displaced : but, the spring by which 
 it returned to its security being rusted, she 
 did not replace it, fearing a further difficulty ; 
 inadvertently forgetting, or not being aware, 
 that the door would thus suddenly fall 
 towards Zadig when he had removed the ob- 
 struction beneath ; a catastrophe which might 
 have been fatal to him. Having returned the 
 key to her girdle, the lay sister now pursued 
 her way back to the chapel, and from thence 
 to the dormitory of Beatrice. The bar which 
 crossed the door of this cell was without a 
 lock, and in a moment more the two fugitives 
 had commenced their escape. Sister Agatha 
 having provided herself with a lamp from one 
 of the altars in the chapel, they were enabled to 
 make great speed through the subterraneous 
 passage. A hundred yards more, and they 
 would have arrived at the grotto walls ; when, 
 coming to a slight angle in their course, a sud-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 20S 
 
 den clash, and the fall of a heavy body, so acted 
 on the overwrought nerves of Beatrice, that 
 she screamed aloud, turned, and fled. The 
 lay sister had nearly followed the Donna's 
 example ; but, fortunately recollecting the 
 probability of Zadig being already in the 
 passage, she awaited a result which proved 
 her conjecture to have been right. The Moor 
 soon joined her, and together they went in 
 pursuit of Beatrice, who had once more reach- 
 ed the vaults beneath the chapel. 
 
 Ranged on either side of the course she now 
 swiftly trod, were the remains of perishing 
 mortality, — a silent community of the coffined 
 dead. Nuns who, during life, imagined they 
 had found in the maceration and mortification 
 of the flesh, a means of propitiating the Deity, — 
 who had hated with a rancorous fervour, which 
 they mistook for devotion, the hapless victims 
 cast to their " tender mercies" for yielding to 
 the temptations which they had themselves 
 fled from, not resisted, — here were divided 
 but by a narrow path from the wretched beings 
 whose hearts they had trampled on till death
 
 204 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 had become a boon. In the darkness, Beatrice 
 passed the steps which led to the chapel ; 
 and, coming suddenly against a transverse 
 range of coffins, she felt the mouldering mass 
 receding from her. Grasping around with the 
 eagerness of one who is about to fall, her hand, 
 shrinking from contact with a clammy face 
 in its decay, became twined amid tangled hair, 
 once closely shorn in that living tomb above, 
 perchance from the brow of beauty weeping 
 to behold her tresses fall, and now in mockery 
 growing to deck her corse, when loveliness 
 was forgotten in corruption. Beatrice became 
 sick unto death, and fainted. On consciousness 
 being restored, she found herself hurried along 
 the vaulted passage in the arms of Zadig. 
 Her head rested on his shoulder ; and, tenderly 
 supporting her, he was bearing her onwards, 
 preceded by Sister Agatha, whose lamp enabled 
 the Donna to perceive her situation. Was it a 
 dream, or had she been recalled to life by the 
 impassioned kisses of the Moor ? 
 
 " Where is Zuma?" exclaimed the affrighted
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 205 
 
 girl, attempting to disengage herself from the 
 arms of her supporter. 
 
 " Hush, Donna, hush ! thou art safe with 
 me! Zuma is ill : she awaits us at Jacinta's 
 cottage." 
 
 Zadig, as he thus answered the wild inquiry 
 of Beatrice, had released her from his arms, 
 but would still have hurried her forward. 
 The lay sister turned to await their approach. 
 The light fell on the excited countenance 
 of her conductor, and the Donna imagined 
 that she beheld an air of triumph in the glance 
 of his dark and dilated eyes as they rested 
 on her. 
 
 " I will not proceed,'' she exclaimed, " till 
 I am satisfied that Zuma awaits me." 
 
 " Dost thou doubt mine honour ?'' bitterly 
 asked the Moor. " Has the curse of slavery 
 taken the stamp of honesty from my brow, 
 and written villain there ? Oh ! it is only to 
 save thee I answer that doubt, and swear by 
 the rolling orbs that minister to our destiny — 
 call on the eternal power that makes and mars
 
 ^06 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 worlds in the infinity of space, and yet doth 
 listen to the pledge of man to man, — as witness 
 to my truth." 
 
 " Forgive me, Zadig !"" said Beatrice, " I 
 am a poor, wretched girl, who knows not 
 friends from enemies. I do indeed trust you ; 
 — take me to Zuma."" 
 
 '' Yes, Donna !" replied the Moor, again 
 supporting her as they advanced along the 
 passage ; " thou mayest trust me. Though my 
 lip hath touched thy cheek, it hath not mad- 
 dened me. I drank thine earliest sigh of re- 
 animation, fragrant with the breath of heaven, 
 from whence thy soul returned, — it was thy 
 fitting refuge when this earth had sickened 
 thee ; — and can I work thee ill .'''" 
 
 " Thanks, Zadig, thanks ! see — we are at 
 the entrance ;" — and Beatrice, who, though she 
 no longer dreaded any specious design on the 
 part of the Moor, was alarmed at his violent 
 emotion, now rejoiced, not only in the immediate 
 prospect of escape from the convent, but in be- 
 ing freed from the half-embrace of her liberator. 
 
 When the drawbridge had to Zadig's sur-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 207 
 
 prise resumed its upright position, it was oc- 
 casioned by his having unconsciously pressed 
 a trap-board, which acting on the easily-poised 
 door, swung it into its place ; by which move- 
 ment also the bar had fallen within its staples. 
 The lay sister now unlocked the spring of this 
 heavy fastening, and once more the draw- 
 bridge revolved. Cautioning the bewildered 
 and agitated Moor to conduct his charge along 
 the passage so as to prevent the door being 
 again acted upon, the lay sister setting down 
 her lamp, extinguished by the draught of the 
 night air from the grotto, passed through the 
 opening, and was speedily followed by her 
 companions. As the Donna disengaged her- 
 self from Zadig's supporting arm, he seemed 
 suddenly aroused to the necessity of controlling 
 his feelings, and proceeded to raise the door 
 and replace the rock. The light of the moon, 
 which threw only a partial and wavering 
 gleam into the grotto, ill assisted him in his 
 task. It was at length completed, and im- 
 mediate pursuit prevented from the quarter 
 whence it would be the most likely of success ;
 
 208 LEGEND AND ROMANCE 
 
 as the gates of the convent opened exactly in 
 an opposite direction. 
 
 Zadig had picketed two mules in the outer 
 compartment of the grotto : with the re- 
 spectful bearing of a servitor he now an- 
 nounced to Beatrice that they were in readi- 
 ness, and he knelt to receive the foot of 
 the Donna as she mounted one of the 
 animals. The other he assigned to Agatha ; 
 and, driving both the mules before him, the 
 wayfarers spoke not till they had reached the 
 high road to St. Ubes. Here, little to the 
 satisfaction of Beatrice, it was intimated by the 
 lay sister, that, in providing for her own im- 
 mediate safety, it was necessary she should 
 separate from her companions. To secure the 
 attendance of this humble friend until she 
 reached the goatherd's cottage, after all the 
 grateful creature had already effected in her 
 behalf, was too selfish a desire to find more 
 than a moment's sojourn within the heart of 
 Beatrice. She looked at Zadig, who was 
 sternly regarding her, as though he read the 
 doubts and fears with which the forlorn girl 
 was ai>'itated.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 209 
 
 " We are to proceed alone to Zunia," then 
 she faltered out, after a pause in which her dis- 
 tress and alarm were evident. 
 
 '' To Zuma, Donna, — thy bondswoman, — 
 the sister of the Moor Zadig," haughtily re- 
 plied her conductor ; " unless it pleases the 
 Donna Beatrice that we should remain here till 
 her flight be discovered, when it is possible our 
 destination will not be of our own choosing." 
 
 " Once more forgive me, Zadig," said Bea- 
 trice, hurriedly shrinking from the fiery glance 
 of the Moor's eyes, which at the moment 
 seemed rather to give light than to glisten in 
 the moon-beams. *' I know not which would 
 be most terrible," thought she, " his hate or 
 his love," hastening to take the diamond set- 
 tins of a miniature from her bosom : '* Break 
 that in twain for me, Zadig ; and give half to 
 the good Agatha, with the blessing of the 
 hapless creature whom she has rescued from 
 yon prison." 
 
 Here she affectionately embraced the lay 
 sister, who, receiving a portion of the gems 
 which had once encircled a portrait of Sebas-
 
 ^10 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 tian, proceeded on her route to St. Ubes, 
 whence, by the aid of a relative residing there, 
 she meant to transport herself to a distant pro- 
 vince. 
 
 " Now, Zadig, we will go to Zuma^'' said 
 Beatrice, laying an emphasis on the name of 
 his sister; and, putting her mule to a fast 
 walk, she watched the gloomy countenance of 
 the Moor as he strode moodily by her side. 
 After pursuing their way some time in silence, 
 she again ventured to address her conductor, 
 whose agonised feelings she would willingly 
 have soothed. 
 
 " I have not thanked you yet, Zadig. Be- 
 lieve me grateful for the part you have acted 
 in my liberation." 
 
 " Thou dost dread me too much to feel 
 aught but fear. Donna," answered the Moor, 
 turning a look of calm despairing reproach on 
 the fair being whose cheek paled beneath his 
 gaze. " Thy gratitude is, that I have not in- 
 jured thee, — thy hope is, that after this night 
 thou mayst see me no more ; yet there is a 
 mingling in our paths which thou canst not
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 211 
 
 control. I know thy horoscope, Donna; I 
 have asked the stars, and they have answered 
 me : — the science which I have ere now told 
 thee of, is not an idle fable ; the high vault of 
 heaven is to me one mighty page written in 
 characters of fire. The moment of thy nativity 
 I learnt : whole nights have I with anxious 
 toil unravelled the mingled tissues of thy 
 destiny, — the light from the dark, the evil 
 from the good. How have I blest the holy 
 intelligences when thy star has been in the 
 ascendant ; and like the lion of the forest, 
 who grinds and shakes the iron toils that 
 hold his mate, but cannot set her free, how 
 have I wrestled with the adverse conjunctions 
 of the planets threatening thee ill! — worked 
 over and over again their heavenward course, 
 — forsworn my art, — dashed my tablets to the 
 earth, then stamped on them with rage ; — but 
 every fragment of thy horoscope would look 
 upon me as if possessed of eyes to fascinate ! 
 Once more have I gathered up each separate 
 portion of my task, re-worked each calcula- 
 tion, and when through the evil influences
 
 212 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 thy star has again ascended, promising fu- 
 ture years of peace and happiness, — for such 
 shall gently conduct thee to the house of 
 death, after the sorrows of thy youth have 
 passed, — this was my recompense i" 
 
 Zadig's voice had risen in vehemence of 
 intonation, till Beatrice looked round her with 
 undisguised alarm, fearful that, even early as 
 was the hour of the morning, some passing 
 traveller's attention might be drawn towards 
 them : and the Moor, perceiving her distress, 
 continued the wild outpourings of his wayward 
 fancies in that low deep tone which seems to 
 speak directly to the heart, rather than ask the 
 office of the ear. 
 
 " Fear not, Donna : there is an escape, 
 which shall be speedily effected ; — there is a 
 voyage — much trouble — danger — blood! Our 
 paths mingle : oh ! that they might join for 
 ever." And here, in the long impassioned 
 gaze with which he regarded Beatrice, the 
 astrologian seemed to have forgotten his divi- 
 nation of the future, except that in the bright 
 hazel eyes before him he read his fate. Dis-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 213 
 
 tress was certainly more strongly written in 
 the answering look of Beatrice than anger ; 
 but the slight elevation of her brows be- 
 spoke a proud annoyance, which, though 
 tempered by gratitude and compassion, was 
 sufficiently apparent to confirm Zadig's deep 
 despair ; and this, acted upon by the mys- 
 terious theories in which he had from boy- 
 hood indulged, now racked his brain on the 
 verge of insanity. 
 
 " There is a sign of love between thine 
 and mine," moodily murmured the fatalist; 
 *' but not between thee and me. There are 
 stars that shall set in blood ; but there shall 
 be peace to thee, Donna. Fear not, I will 
 not wrong thee : were thy father here in the 
 body, as now his spirit watches by the 
 daughter of his love, thou couldst not have 
 a truer guardianship than Zadig the Moor 
 devotes to thee. Yes ! soul of the departed ! — 
 Thou who hast found the secret of immortality 
 in the tomb ! — thou who from perishing matter 
 hast gone forth in spirit ! — Let each hell of all
 
 3514 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 the myriad creeds of man, be searched to find 
 a torture for my recompense, if I in word or 
 deed do wrong thy daughter !" 
 
 The wayfarers were at this moment passing 
 through a dark gorge of the road, where the 
 overhanging crag and rock in a tangled 
 thicket of rank foliage, ahnost met above 
 their heads ; but at a little distance the path 
 widened, and the grey mists of day-break, 
 here blending with the pale moonlight, cast 
 an almost supernatural atmosphere around the 
 dim landscape. Zadig had extended his arms 
 in this direction, and the eyes of the excited 
 girl insensibly followed his eager gaze into 
 the expanse before them. Was it, indeed, a 
 beatified spirit which in answer to the apo- 
 strophe of the Moor seemed to beckon them .'' 
 The mule dashed aside, startled by the scream 
 of its rider, who fell into the arms of her 
 companion. 
 
 « What didst thou see, Zadig ?" 
 
 " Nothing, Donna, nothing," — hastily an- 
 swered the Moor, fearing a repetition of the 
 fainting in the vaults of the chapel, and
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 215 
 
 roused to self-possession by the alarm — " I 
 saw nothinor but the wreathincr mists of the 
 morning: I have been wrong, very wrong ; — my 
 wild converse has unnerved thee. See ! we are 
 not a quarter of a mile from the goatherd's 
 cottage, where Zuma is expecting us !" 
 
 Beatrice allowed herself to be reseated on 
 the mule, and they now entered on the wider 
 portion of the road. Her anxious glance 
 around, evidently showed that Zadig's assur- 
 ances were not satisfactory ; but nothing 
 moved in that still landscape except Jacinta's 
 goats browsing on the summit of a hill, as- 
 cending which they beheld their destination. 
 Zadig pointed the cottage out to his compa- 
 nion, but spoke not : and in a few minutes 
 Beatrice was clasped to the heart of Zuma, 
 who found in the safety and presence of her 
 friend the best remedy for the slight fever 
 sorrow and anxiety had induced.
 
 216 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE VOYAGE. 
 
 Shortly after Zadig's return to the goat- 
 herd's cottage, it became Zuma's task to ac- 
 quaint him that Beatrice was the betrothed of 
 the stranger he had once seen at the Quinta ; 
 and to place herself under the protection of 
 this Fidalgo, even in Africa, whither it was 
 represented he had sailed in attendance on 
 Sebastian, Zadig then, for the first time, learned 
 was the Donna's intention. 
 
 " And I accompany her," said Zuma, 
 shrinking from her brother''s searching look of 
 suspicion, as he hung over her couch in the 
 little apartment where Beatrice had left them 
 in deep conference. 
 
 " As he?^ companion, or to seek the Marquis 
 Christovao ? " sternly demanded the Moor. 
 " Unhappy girl ! thou canst not answer. To
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 217 
 
 tread the land he treads, — to breathe the clime 
 he breathes, thou wouldst peril much. But is 
 he not in Barbary ? Art thou not the daughter 
 of Zadig Beni Rashid, the noble Bereber ? — 
 and shalt thou seek the proud, imperious Mon- 
 toyo, and ask to be his leman ?" 
 
 " Spare me, Zadig; I am weak, — ill, — and 
 cannot bear your reproaches. Neither Beatrice 
 nor myself go to Africa without you : I am to 
 ask your protection. The remainder of the 
 diamonds belonging to the Donna you are to 
 dispose of; we have other monies too." — (She 
 referred to the supply received from Christo- 
 vao for her own expenses to Barbary.) — " You 
 must secure us a passage as pages wishing to 
 join the retinue of the Marquis de Montoyo : 
 — we need not seek him when we have reached 
 Arzilla, where the royal army makes its ren- 
 dezvous; — it is only to excuse our voyage to 
 Africa should any be curious to inquire." 
 
 " Then I am, indeed, to convey the Donna 
 Beatrice to the arms of another ! I knew this 
 sacrifice was to be demanded of me : I felt it 
 from the firsts though it was concealed," — 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 moodily remarked Zadig. " Sister, dost think 
 I would have shrunk from aiding her escape 
 had I heard this before? Thou knowest not 
 thy brother ! The fate that is allotted us shall 
 be worked out. It pleases me that our path 
 will be in Barbary : it is our native land, the 
 land of our sires, though distracted by factions 
 and by wars : — factions which convulse an em- 
 pire, that at length one man may be lifted 
 above his fellows ; — wars that shall slay thou- 
 sands, that one man may be proclaimed con- 
 queror ! What boots the question which ty- 
 rant shall grind the Moor? — Muley Hamet or 
 Muley Moloch, it can matter little. Farewell, 
 my sister ! the bidding of the Donna Beatrice 
 shall be performed. The Senhor Camoens, as 
 thou knowest, has enfranchised me : he will 
 not question why in willing bonds I have be- 
 come the slave of one who is my destiny." 
 
 Zadig was right in his conjecture that the 
 bard would not oppose his departure. Suffi- 
 ciently admitted into his confidence to under- 
 stand that he was to protect the Donna Bea- 
 trice to her betrothed in Africa, Camoens
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 219 
 
 bade him forget the ties that once bound them, 
 till a time should come when he had fulfilled 
 his mission. 
 
 " Then,"" said the bard, " return to me ; 
 — let me hear from thy lips the triumph of 
 Sebastian. To thee will I bequeath the last 
 song of Camoens ; — and when I am dead shalt 
 thou show this ungrateful land, that dying 
 I rejoiced in the glory of my country P 
 
 After parting from his master, Zadig de- 
 voted himself to the task before him. The 
 second day from the escape of Beatrice he 
 secured accommodation in a bark about to 
 sail for Arzilla ; nor did he neglect to ascer- 
 tain if any sensation had been produced in the 
 neighbourhood of the convent, by the disap- 
 pearance of a penitent and lay sister. He 
 visited St. Ubes, and had the satisfaction of 
 learning that no mention had been made, so far 
 as he could discover, of a circumstance which, 
 if known, would be greatly to the discredit of 
 the establishment ; and which, doubtless for that 
 reason, was concealed from the public, what- 
 ever other steps might have been taken for the 
 
 L 2
 
 220 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 discovery of the two fugitives : at St. Ubes 
 Zadig, as well, ascertained the speedy and safe 
 departure of Agatha. Dresses were easily pro- 
 cured for Beatrice and his sister, giving them 
 the appearance of young pages belonging to 
 some nobleman's retinue ; and on the fourth 
 day, Zuma being sufficiently recovered, the 
 three voyagers entered the vessel which was 
 to convey them to Africa : the wind being 
 favourable, they sailed a few hours after their 
 embarkation. 
 
 The weather continued propitious, and Zadig 
 treasured the flying hours that remained to 
 him with a miser's care. His was a fierce hap- 
 piness, to which despair seemed to give a keener 
 zest : he heard the soft voice of Beatrice call- 
 ing him by name, thanking him for the ser- 
 vices he had rendered her ; — she even smiled 
 on him, and playfully combated his wild philo- 
 sophy ; or, seated on the deck by Zuma, she 
 listened to the young Moor''s mystic theories, 
 and, as the starry heavens above shone in the 
 blue ether of night, would ask him to name 
 the planets and their allotted influences. To
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 221 
 
 be permitted this unreserved communion with 
 the Donna Beatrice, he had silenced the almost 
 frenzied expression of his attachment, which 
 had before so distressed and alarmed her ; and 
 there seemed a tacit understanding that his 
 love, should in their now constant intercourse, 
 be consigned to oblivion, as if it had never 
 been declared — never existed. Could that 
 voyage have lasted for a life of ages, Zadig 
 fancied he would have been content thus to 
 live. It was an idle but a happy dream. He 
 could gaze on that form of beauty, the strange 
 dissfuise which bound him in the confidence 
 of Beatrice casting a greater charm around 
 her : he could feel that she was near him ; 
 that, among the crowd of servitors and camp 
 followers in the vessel, she looked to him alone 
 for a protection which none could dispute his 
 right to give. But in a few days he must 
 resign this claim ; his task would be fulfilled : 
 the Senhor Abrantes, her betrothed, would be 
 her protector, — and Zadig must for ever de- 
 part from her presence. 
 
 We have attempted to analyze the over-
 
 222 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 wrought feelings of the Moor, which, control- 
 led by his passionate devotion to Beatrice,— 
 (even the power that raised, now ruling the 
 storm,) — allowed of his proving a useful aux- 
 iliary to the Senhoras. The night before they 
 contemplated reaching Arzilla, the voyagers 
 had remained on deck till an unusually late 
 hour. Little had been spoken that evening, 
 for all were busily engaged with those silent 
 communings of the heart which ask no coun- 
 sellor. The nature of Zadig's musings need 
 not be further described. The loose folds of 
 the scarlet tunic, which, confined at the waist 
 by a black leathern belt, was his usual cos- 
 tume, thrown open at the neck, showed his 
 finely formed throat ; and here, as his head 
 rested against the bulwarks of the vessel, the 
 deep workings of suppressed emotion might 
 be traced. The Moor watched the eyes of 
 Beatrice directed towards the distant, dim ho- 
 rizon, where, on the morrow, the looked-for 
 land would appear. She almost hoped that 
 the royal army had not yet reached its desti- 
 nation, as time would then be afforded her to
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 223 
 
 arrange some method of communicating with 
 Sebastian without exposing the connection 
 which existed between them : though confident 
 of his affection, she could not but feel that she 
 was putting it to a severe test in claiming his 
 protection at such a moment. 
 
 Sebastian had espoused the hollow fantasy 
 Fame, ere he beheld Beatrice de Montoyo : 
 again he returned a willing votary in her gor- 
 geous train. The glory of conquest, — the chi- 
 valrous desire to award the crown of Morocco 
 to its rightful claimant, and, if it may so please 
 him, make Muley Hamet hold it but as the 
 vassal of Portugal, — the laudatory gratulations 
 of princes, priests, and politicians, granting 
 to success the praise they deny to enterprise ; 
 — such are now his visions of the future," 
 thought Beatrice, who was well acquainted 
 with her royal husband's every hope and fear 
 respecting the expedition. " Can I break in 
 on these contemplations ; — burden him with my 
 presence in the midst of warlike preparations 
 which are to lead to such glorious results^ 
 and not be considered an intruder ?'"' The
 
 S^4 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 bride of Sebastian was anxiously putting the 
 question to her shrinking heart, " Will he love 
 me still ?" 
 
 Zuma had more reason to dread her meeting 
 with Christovao, than to look forward to it 
 with the delight her devoted attachment might 
 have induced, had not Beatrice been her com- 
 panion ; and her misgivings at the approach 
 of that meeting were proportionally painful. 
 Her affection for Beatrice had led her to 
 thwart the purpose of her lover, and the un- 
 happy girl silently wept as she contemplated 
 the continued system of deceit in which she 
 was involved. " Oh ! when shall I know 
 rest ?" she murmured, pressing her hands to her 
 temples, which throbbed with excitement. 
 
 At this moment a hurried movement of the 
 watch on deck to take in sail, indicated that 
 the experienced eye of the master of the bark 
 saw peril in the sudden rising of the sea ; 
 though but one solitary cloud was visible in 
 the expanse of heaven, and that was white as 
 the yeasty foam now curling on the waves. 
 Quickly as the captain's orders were obeyed,
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 225 
 
 the white squall was on them ere the vessel 
 was in sufficient command. In an instant the 
 canvass flapped on the masts, and the crash of 
 falling spars and rigging drove Beatrice and 
 Zuma from the deck : every hand was now 
 required to clear the wreck, and they disgraced 
 their assumed manhood by assigning illness as 
 the cause of their non-attendance to this call. 
 The Senhoras passed the night in fervent pray- 
 ers for the intercession of the saints ; while 
 Zadig readily lent his aid in the exigencies of 
 the ship, which, after having been thrown on 
 her beam-ends, suddenly righted, with loss of 
 her rudder, and other serious damage. The 
 sky became overclouded; the wind had changed, 
 a frequent result after these squalls ; and ere 
 morning the bark, driven from her course, 
 grounded on a reef of rocks at the mouth of 
 the Sahel, a river to the south-west of Arzilla, 
 on the coast of Barbary ; and her boats had 
 only time to remove the affrighted passengers, 
 with the lighter stores, ere she went to pieces. 
 
 The part of the coast where our voyagers were 
 cast was but thinly inhabited, and they landed 
 
 l5
 
 226 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 in sufficient strength to protect themselves from 
 the attacks of the native Moors. Unfortunately, 
 none of the party possessed sufficient experience 
 of the country to arrange their progress to- 
 wards Arzilla ; nor was there one among them 
 who held an authority over the rest, enabling 
 him to direct their counsels for that purpose. 
 After some delay, an ill-constructed caravan 
 was formed, with the intention of proceeding 
 along the plains to their destination. A few 
 wretched horses and one solitary camel were 
 the only animals of burden to be procured ; 
 the greater portion of such desiderata in the 
 advance of an army having been appropri- 
 ated by Sebastian's forces, which had com- 
 menced their march into the interior ; — a piece 
 of information the demand for animals of bur- 
 den elicited from the natives. 
 
 Zadig had secured two barbs for the use of 
 Beatrice and his sister, much to the displeasure 
 of the captain late in command of the bark, 
 who wished to appropriate them to the con- 
 veyance of such portion of his stores as had 
 been saved. This occasioned a dispute, the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 227 
 
 issue of which was, that Zadig, whose part 
 an old Bereber had espoused, feared to pro- 
 ceed with the rest of the shipwrecked party, 
 lest the Senhoras might be deprived of their 
 horses by the force of numbers. The proba- 
 bility of such an occurrence if they kept with 
 the caravan, and the fact of Sebastian having 
 left Arzilla, determined our adventurers to 
 separate themselves from the others ; and ac- 
 cepting the assistance of a guide, the aged 
 man before-mentioned, who offered to accom- 
 pany them, they took an inland and somewhat 
 oblique direction in the hope of intercepting 
 the royal army, then not supposed to have 
 advanced many leagues. 
 
 The alarming termination of their voyage 
 had not materially affected the health of the 
 disguised damsels. Thankful for their escape 
 from the dangers of the sea, they resolutely 
 commenced their land journey an hour before 
 dawn on the second day after the shipwreck. 
 Zadig, who had armed himself with the native 
 weapons, and once more assumed the turban, 
 which, since his captivity, he had laid aside.
 
 228 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 looked no longer a stranger in the land of 
 his fathers. The staff of his lance was short- 
 ened to a convenient length for a pedes- 
 trian ; and his scimitar hung to his girdle, 
 where he wore a plainly mounted dagger, or 
 rather long knife, an effective weapon at close 
 quarters. 
 
 Beatrice and Zuma had each a short, straight 
 sword, which it is to be feared they lacked 
 courage to draw ; and their disguise was 
 well chosen to escape observation. The Don- 
 na Beatrice wore a tunic and vest of sombre 
 grey, confined at the waist by a black belt 
 ornamented with silver. Her neck was pro- 
 tected from the scorching heat of the sun's 
 rays by a deep ruff; and, while the shade of a 
 '* sombrero " concealed her features, the ample 
 cloak folded around her, nearly hid the deli- 
 cately turned limbs, which seemed to shrink 
 from exposure in the dark hose and buskin 
 that completed her costume. The fashion of 
 Zuma's garb did not materially differ from 
 her companion's ; but the vesture of the Moor- 
 ish girl was in colour of the deepest crimson ;
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 229 
 
 and her short cloak, descending little below 
 her waist, did not so well hide her symmetry 
 of form. Both Senhoras were excellent horse- 
 women, having been, as children, taught to 
 ride; and, Zadig proposing not to task their 
 strength beyond a short daily journey, they 
 braved the fatigue before them without repining. 
 
 Their guide was a mountaineer, but he seem- 
 ed accustomed to the plains, and managed his 
 barb, which, as well as its master, bore the 
 marks of age, with a nervous arm, where, as in 
 each other limb left bare by the scanty folds of 
 his dress, the anatomy of bone and muscle was 
 painfully distinct. A sandal of undressed hide 
 covered his feet, and these were thrust into the 
 sharp stirrup used in common by Moors and 
 Portuguese; while a small white turban sur- 
 mounted features where the quick, dark eye 
 that illumined them alone told of vitality, — 
 the tightly drawn skin scarcely confining the 
 bones of the cheek, and his whole visage forci- 
 bly reminding the beholder of a fleshless skull. 
 
 The party rested during the meridian heat 
 beneath a solitary group of palm-trees, which.
 
 230 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 though peculiarly belonging to the scene around, 
 looked like strangers in a desert land where all 
 else was barren : these waved their long leaves 
 over the fountain they shaded, as if to cool the 
 waters for the thirsty traveller in whose behalf 
 some pious Mussulman, in years gone by, had 
 gathered together the bubblings of that spring. 
 Little conversation had passed between the 
 wayfarers generally during the morning: the 
 guide, who called himself Abdallah, kept a lit- 
 tle a-head of the Senhoras ; and Zadig, walking 
 musingly in the rear of the party, had only oc- 
 casionally joined Beatrice and Zuma when they 
 allowed him to overtake them, that they might 
 ask some question relative to their journey. 
 
 Now the frugal viands which they had 
 brought from the Arab village were spread on 
 the long grass by the fountain ; and the friends 
 communicated freely their thoughts to each 
 other as to the scene around them, the chances 
 of their gaining the caravansary which had 
 been described to them by their guide, before 
 nightfall, and other topics that did not en- 
 trench on the painful reflections which had
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 231 
 
 belonged to the silence of the morning. Ab- 
 dallah sat apart, nor could he be induced to 
 partake of their repast. His reply to their 
 solicitations was quaintly, " The servant 
 should not eat with the master. Thou hast 
 to give me gold for my services, and I eat 
 alone. Allah be praised ! the old man's wants 
 are few.*" 
 
 As if literally to exemplify how little he 
 required in the article of sustenance, he made 
 his solitary meal off a few dates and a cup of 
 water : even of the latter he was sparing, ex- 
 cept in his purification before and after eating. 
 His horse, which he had picketed by his side 
 to graze on such herbage as the animal could 
 find, seemed chiefly to occupy his attention : 
 he spoke endearingly, and the faithful beast 
 bowed his head to his master's hand, looking 
 inquiringly into the thin face of the old man 
 as though he really understood all that was 
 said to him. Occasionally Abdallah would 
 take a cautious glance at the travellers, but, 
 if eye met his, the communication with his 
 steed was renewed ; till at length he drew from
 
 2S2 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 his breast a string of beads, and, after counting 
 them for the third of an hour with all the 
 genuflexions of prayer, he resigned himself to 
 apparent slumber. 
 
 " I like not yon guide," whispered Zadig 
 to his anxious and alarmed listeners. " He 
 eats not salt with us ; he breaks not bread with 
 us : would that we had kept with the caravan ! 
 The toil of walking, even had it been allotted 
 to you both, would have been better than our 
 present danger of being betrayed." 
 
 " Oh ! say not so, Zadig i" answered Bea- 
 trice ; " you have done what appeared best 
 to us all. The saints be our safety ! Surely, 
 because the old man would eat alone, he must 
 not necessarily betray. Why alarm us with- 
 out cause ?*" 
 
 " Dearest sister,*" interrupted Zuma, " Za- 
 dig is right. There is more meaning in the 
 refusal of our guide to eat with us than you, 
 in ignorance of the customs of this land, per- 
 ceive. My brother has often told me that the 
 Bereber will not eat bread and salt with the 
 man he has determined to wrong."
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 23S 
 
 " Believe me, Donna, I would not willingly 
 alarm you,'" resumed Zadig ; " but, if aught 
 occurs to prove my suspicions right, you have 
 provision, and shall have skins of water on 
 your horses. Should we meet danger, promise 
 me that you will fly : keep your face towards 
 the setting sun, and you are sure to reach 
 Arzilla. I will do all one arm can effect to 
 cover your flight. Nay, speak not ! — I see 
 you would ask me to fly with you. This ma^ 
 be; but, if not, I commend Zuma to your 
 care. Be to her as you have ever been : if I 
 am to fall, why should I repine at my destiny .^"^ 
 
 Zuma spoke not but by her tears. She was 
 devotedly attached to her brother, though early 
 captivity had divided them. Long had she 
 looked on him as one who might not be per- 
 mitted to live for her comfort and protection. 
 To all, the young Moor appeared as a doomed 
 man, who seemed rather inquiring how he 
 should die, than his fortune in life ; but to 
 Zuma, who knew the romantic and despairing 
 attachment he had formed for her friend, the 
 gloom which hung around him was too clearly
 
 S34 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 interpreted : even now she felt assured that 
 Zadig contemplated, in the event of attack, 
 devoting himself to death for the safety of 
 Beatrice. The Moorish girl doubted not that 
 he would generously have risked as much for 
 her individual safety ; but his every thought 
 was centred in the object of his maddening 
 love. The tears of the Donna Beatrice showed 
 that she deeply sympathized with Zuma in 
 her forebodings ; and these young creatures, at 
 the moment, forgot their own danger should 
 the guide prove unfaithful, in the peril which 
 might await their protector : while Zuma 
 wept for the sorrows and despairing reckless- 
 ness of a brother, it would have been strange, 
 indeed, if the heart of Beatrice had not ached 
 to its inmost core at the misery she had un- 
 wittingly caused ; and gratefully did she esti- 
 mate Zadig's devotion to her service. 
 
 " It looks ill for the gallant servitors of a 
 noble Portuguese to be seen weeping," said 
 the Moor, faintly smiling in an attempt to 
 cheer his companions. " After all I may prove 
 mistaken, and yon bigot Mussulman be some
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 235 
 
 ascetic wretch who eats but with believers in 
 his narrow creed. He may yet be true to 
 us : — and see ! the sun has long passed its 
 zenith ; we will awaken him, and proceed on 
 our journey. 
 
 Without waiting to be aroused, the guide 
 sprang on his feet as Zadig approached him. 
 
 " I would ask thee to ride in thy turn," 
 said the Bereber coldly, " but I am aged and 
 thou art young. Allah is good, and gives the 
 horse not only as our companion in the battle 
 and the chase, but to aid the old man as he 
 seeks his grave in the Desert." 
 
 *' Thy strength is of life, though thou look- 
 est as if death had already claimed thee, Ab- 
 dallah," rejoined the young Moor. " But I 
 have a warning for thee ! — if thou carest to 
 live, be faithful !" 
 
 This was said emphatically, but elicited no 
 answer from the guide, who silently mounted 
 his horse ; and, the barbs of the Senhoras hav- 
 ing been brought them by Zadig, the whole 
 party resumed their journey. Little variety 
 of scenery had offered itself to their notice
 
 236 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 since they left the coast. The same sandy bar- 
 ren plain, with here and there a patch of ver- 
 dure around the white-domed tomb of some 
 augur (or saint) in the distance, had continued 
 throughout the morning : and sign of life saw 
 they none, save the ostrich as he skimmed the 
 earth in his awkward flight from their approach ; 
 or the pelican screaming over her brood, as 
 if to warn them that a stranger was at hand. 
 On commencing their route, Zadig had taken 
 his position immediately behind their guide, 
 and watchfully did he regard every movement 
 of the Bereber, particularly as the hitherto un- 
 broken ground now assumed a different aspect ; 
 and the eye could no longer survey miles of 
 country at a glance, in assurance that they 
 were the only wayfarers on the desert plain. 
 
 The travellers had just entered a path be- 
 tween two hills, belonging to a small chain of 
 mimic mountains formed by the shifting of 
 the loose soil in the blast of the sirocco, when 
 a small party of Bedouins at full speed wheeled 
 into the track, and uttering one wild halloo, 
 either of surprise or recognition, dashed on
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 237 
 
 their prey. Whether Abdallah had expected 
 this attack, was not then to be determined ; 
 but that he had no intention to resist the 
 horsemen was but too evident. He darted his 
 long lance into the earth, flung away his sci- 
 mitar, and, tossing his arms on high, halted 
 to receive them. 
 
 '' Fly ! fly !" exclaimed Zadig ; and quick- 
 ly the Senhoras turned their horses and fled. 
 
 *•• Traitor ! to the ground with thee !" shout- 
 ed the Moor, as he grasped the girdle of the 
 guide, and hurled him from his saddle. In 
 another instant he had mounted the horse of 
 the fallen man and winged his lance at the 
 cominff foe, whose intention he little doubted, 
 for " in the Desert each stranger is an enemy." 
 Harmlessly had the shaft sped ; and, ere Za- 
 dig's scimitar had sprung from its sheath, a 
 shower of lances were in the air. 
 
 '' Howel! Howeir cried the aged Bereber, 
 who had lain as if stunned by his fall. He 
 spoke to his horse, and, obedient to the voice 
 of his master, the animal crouched to the earth ; 
 and Zadig, wounded by a lance which had
 
 23S LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 broken in his shoulder, rolled heavily on the 
 guide. 
 
 " Die, traitor, — die !" The Moor, mind- 
 less of his hurt, grasped Abdallah by the 
 throat with one hand, while with the other he 
 plunged a knife into the old man's side. 
 
 " Thou sheddest the blood of thy father's 
 brother !" calmly enunciated the guide, dis- 
 passionately regarding Zadig, who, ere he 
 could give a second thrust, had been pinioned 
 by two dismounted Arabs. 
 
 " Harm him not, he is my kinsman !" — 
 then, raising his voice, he cried, "^ After the 
 Christian boys ! Take or slay them ! What 
 had the son of my brother to do with these 
 cubs of Christian wolves ?" 
 
 The termination of this sentence was ad- 
 dressed to Zadig, who, his arms secured by a 
 cord, his wound yet rankling from the lance 
 which remained in it, and maddened by the 
 fate which threatened the fugitives, poured 
 forth imprecations on his newly-found relative. 
 
 " Thou art a liar ! — arch-traitor, I know 
 thee not. Wert thou ten times mine uncle, 
 I curse thee for this deed !"
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 2S9 
 
 " I have done nothing," replied Abdallah, 
 '* Allah be my judge ! I knew not the horse- 
 men would be on us.*' 
 
 " Then save the Christians, and I will call 
 thee uncle, — love thee as a son, — bless thee 
 as a benefactor, — serve thee as a slave !" ex- 
 claimed Zadig. 
 
 " And yet thy dagger drank my blood !" 
 musingly rejoined the guide, as he watched 
 the crimson stream flowing from his arm 
 and side. — The knife had glanced from one 
 to the other, doing but little injury, though 
 there was a continued effusion from the 
 wounds. 
 
 "Wilt thou save the Christians.?" again 
 impatiently asked Zadig. 
 
 " They are the spoil of their captors,"*"* re- 
 plied Abdallah, pointing to several Arabs who 
 had returned to the wounded men, but without 
 the Senhoras. 
 
 " The Christian dogs are on their way over 
 yonder plains with Achmet and Osman," an- 
 swered one of the horsemen : " they will be 
 taken to Muley Moloch's camp."*
 
 ^40 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 " There then will I follow them r in a burst 
 of uncontrollable emotion responded Zadig. 
 
 *« Not so, my son, — not so ;" — and the old 
 man turned to the Bedouins. " Leave us, my 
 friends, — we are kinsmen. Go thou on thy 
 course, and Allah be thy speed !" 
 
 " To let him slay thee, father !" replied the 
 Arab, who seemed to command the party, 
 pointing to their prisoner. 
 
 " Shall I answer for thee, Zadig, that thou 
 wilt not harm me ?"" 
 
 " If thou swearest that thou goest with me 
 to Moloch's camp," doggedly replied the young 
 Moor. 
 
 " Be it so, even as thou sayest," — and the 
 guide cut the bonds of his captive, who in a 
 moment dashed forward, and, mounting a steep 
 bank, gazed wildly round him. Far as his eye 
 could reach, was a small cloud of dust. 
 
 " Behold thy Christian friends, Zadig!" said 
 Abdallah, who had followed him. The young 
 Moor heard him not ; he plucked the lance 
 from his wound, and rolled on the earth in 
 agony of spirit.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 241 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A LETTER. 
 
 Sebastian quitted the Tagus with nearly a 
 thousand sail, — vessels of war and transports. 
 After anchoring for a few hours in the Bay of 
 Largos, on the coast of the Algarves, to re- 
 ceive the Alemtejo contingents, he weighed 
 anchor for Cadiz, where, making a quick pas- 
 sage, he safely arrived. Though received by 
 the Duke de Medina-Sidonia, governor of that 
 city, with all the honours due to his exalt- 
 ed station, so completely absorbed were the 
 thoughts of the Portuguese monarch in his 
 African enterprise, that he landed but once 
 during his eight days' sojourn in the harbour, 
 and then only for the purpose of hearing high 
 mass. His scrupulous seclusion on board the 
 royal galley might be further accounted for, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 as occasioned by Medina-Sidonia's unceasing 
 endeavours to fulfil certain instructions re- 
 ceived from Philip of Spain ; — commanding 
 him to embrace every opportunity of urging 
 Sebastian to abandon the expedition, — a per- 
 tinacity particularly annoying to the young 
 King, who only awaited the promised Spanish 
 auxiliaries to sail for Tangier s. At no period 
 since the developement of his darling project 
 had he shown himself more determined to per- 
 severe in his desperate undertaking. The 
 army was now fast gathering round him which 
 was to decide the destinies of Fez and Morocco. 
 These vast kingdoms were to be brought 
 within the pale of the church of Rome by a 
 glorious career of conquest, which, in all the 
 brilliant colouring of a phantasmagoria, jllumed 
 a future where the possibility of defeat was 
 not for a moment allowed to cloud the scene. 
 That the King of Portugal contemplated being 
 crowned Emperor of the Moors, cannot be 
 doubted ; as not only had he embarked a prin- 
 cipal portion of his regalia, but he had actually 
 taken with him a master of the ceremonies.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 243 
 
 experienced in courtly pageants, to conduct his 
 coronation at Fez with due solemnity. The 
 conquest of the Moorish empire thus secured, 
 to the glory of Lusitania and advancement of 
 the " true faith,"" Sebastian purposed appoint- 
 ing Muley Hamefc to the viceroyalty, — provid- 
 ed that prince consented to become a Chris- 
 tian ; — and the arbiter of the destinies of Bar- 
 bary might then return to the government of his 
 hereditary dominions, having added two crowns 
 to the throne of Portugal, and opened the way 
 of salvation to millions of a benighted race. 
 
 Such were the young King's day-dreams in 
 the Bay of Cadiz ; his tender recollections of 
 the Donna Beatrice strangely mingling with 
 his sterner resolves. He staked her happiness 
 but in the general hazard of crown and king- 
 dom, with the lives of princes, nobles, and 
 peasants: — though loving her with the same 
 ardour which marked his character in all its 
 features, he gloried in the sacrifice he had made; 
 and, quitting his newly-wedded bride, remem- 
 bered her blandishments but as fresh incentives 
 to the speedy fulfilment of his self-appointed 
 
 M 2
 
 244 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 crusade. The following letter of this chival- 
 rous monarch may be acceptable to the reader ; 
 for, as yet, he who has given a name to our 
 story has spoken but little in its details. Let 
 it plead our excuse, that Sebastian might fairly 
 have taken unto himself the motto, " Deeds, 
 not words." 
 
 " To Beatrice, the beloved of Abrantes, by 
 his messenger Nicolao. — In great sorrow for 
 the anxieties my long silence must have caused, 
 I write thee, queen of my affections ; but 
 even now with caution, lest my epistle may not 
 reach thee. When with the King — whom may 
 the saints guide! — I lay for several days in the 
 Tagus, I would have given years of existence 
 from my allotted span, to have communicated 
 with thee ; but see thee I could not, for rea- 
 sons I will not now propound :— but I partook 
 of our King's resolution not to disembark 
 after the consecration of the Holy Banner, — 
 which Heaven lead to victory ! To write thee 
 was my only resource, nor was I unmindful of 
 the grateful task ; but Nicolao, who should
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 245 
 
 have borne the ardent assurances of my unal- 
 tered love, was not on board the galley until the 
 hour of sailing; nor came he to me till the shore 
 was fast fading in the distance. Again, when 
 in the Algarves, he did absent himself after 
 the same manner. A wilful servant this, who, 
 holding his master's secret, doth dare his an- 
 ger ; — but, when I reprimand his faults, he 
 doth humbly promise the like shall not occur 
 again. Now, to ask my Beatrice if her pray- 
 ers are constant to the saints for her Abran- 
 tes. There are here goodly ships crowded to 
 their bulwarks by valiant men and vast muni- 
 tions of war, while all hearts beat high with 
 hope of conquest : but in the Cross must be 
 our strength ; and be thy intercession, Beatrice, 
 for one who, when that Cross shall triumph 
 o'er the Crescent, — returning, twines the myrtle 
 of thy bower with his laurels, and shares the 
 crown with thee ! — Dost understand me, — con- 
 queror of a heart which thou alone hast taught 
 to love ? Thy brother ever seeks to do me 
 pleasure : — we have but one mind ; and he doth 
 bravely oppose those who would advise that I
 
 24f6 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 should quit this expedition, whose wearying 
 solicitations vex me much. It is most evident 
 to me that Christovao dreams not even of our 
 love. The hope he entertained has failed him, 
 for he cares not to keep thee in my mind, and 
 speaks not of thee. Still will I act to him a 
 brother's part : my heart is open to him, and 
 I have much faith in his truth. Nicolao, 
 though twice a truant, bears you this. He 
 pleads his love for a dark-eyed daughter of 
 Lisboa, as the cause that he did forsake me in 
 my need. I did remind him that his absence 
 in the Bay of Largos did again prevent my 
 writing : he looked abashed, and said he had 
 another whom he loved in the Algarves. I 
 have no love but thee, my Beatrice ! Had I 
 met thee earlier, the glorious destiny which 
 now awaits me had not been mine, — but thou 
 hadst made a life of peace a paradise on earth ! 
 Even now, a thought of thee doth make my 
 soul leap over the months that may divide us, 
 — their glorious purpose, proud excitements, 
 holy triumphs, all forgot in picturing the rap- 
 ture of our meeting, never more to part ! 'Tis
 
 SEBASTIAN OF TORTUGAL. 24-7 
 
 well the clarions from our crowded barks now 
 hail the rising sun ; while from the shore the 
 early matin-bell calls the adorer to a hundred 
 shrines. Prayer, the soul's incense, mounts to 
 Heaven for our success, — the spreading of the 
 kingdom of the Cross ! I am reminded that 
 my love of thee should only urge me to per- 
 form my vow, — and then to claim my recom- 
 pence. Beatrice, my beloved, thine own Abran- 
 tes bows his heart to thee ! The saints give 
 thee years of happiness, and to me, the bliss of 
 sharing them with thee ! 
 
 " Farewell !" 
 
 Such was the epistle of Sebastian to Bea- 
 trice. Nicolao, after a long voyage to Lisbon 
 had the mortification of finding that the Quinta 
 was deserted by all save the steward, Jose, 
 who, as we are already aware, could give little 
 information as to the movements of his mas- 
 ter's family : he at length bethought him of 
 applying to Padre Chaves, and lost no time in 
 seeking the abode of this quondam confessor of 
 the Quinta Montoyo.
 
 24:8 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 AN EXPERIMENTAL PHILOSOPHER. 
 
 It was evening when Nicolao arrived at 
 Padre Chaves' dwelling, and this had been a 
 f^te day with the jovial priest : Marguerita 
 was on a shopping excursion in the good city 
 of Lisbon, which had detained her from home 
 since the morning. Evening had arrived, — but 
 not Senhora Marguerita. It was, as we said 
 before, a gala day with our old acquaintance ; 
 he was entertaining the being he most esteemed 
 in the world, — he was, in fact, entertaining 
 himself. 
 
 " Walk up, Nicolao, my son !" exclaimed 
 the Padre, appearing at the top of the landing- 
 place before the door of his sanctum, from 
 which elysium of bottles he had advanced on 
 hearing the well-known voice of the servitor
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 249 
 
 inquiring for him. " Walk up, my friend ; — 
 * the more welcome for being the less expected.' 
 — Thou mayest breathe the fresh air outside 
 the door, Antoine," — benignly suggested the 
 churchman to his attendant over the shoulder 
 of Nicolao, whom he was embracing with much 
 ardour ; — " and mind, boy, tell me when thou 
 seest my niece coming. It will be a satisfac- 
 tion for me to know that she is at hand : — a 
 worthy woman is Marguerita," said the priest, 
 turning a very serious face to Nicolao after he 
 had preceded him into the room. 
 
 '' And buxom withal," rejoined the saucy 
 servitor with a roguish look. 
 
 " I said not that she was ugly, my son ; but 
 we need not discuss the subject. Sit thee 
 down ; thou art welcome to my laboratory l"" 
 
 Nicolao did as he was desired to do, and 
 certainly a very strange alteration had taken 
 place in his friend's apartment. The two cor- 
 ner cupboards, which were usually closed, and 
 when opened might perhaps be seen to contain 
 a small skin of wine in a lower compartment, 
 with a few flasks and jugs on the more elevated 
 
 M 5
 
 250 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 shelves, now appeared crowded with the oddest 
 assortment of vessels in stone, glass, — ay, even 
 metal, — and it might be that vegetable matter 
 was not wanting : indeed, anything that could 
 take on itself the fashion of a bottle seemed to 
 have a right to a place in that congress of 
 choice spirits. Every form of flask had a 
 representative, from the calabash that first 
 tempted the patriarch Noah to drunkenness, 
 down to the modern crystal, the manufacture 
 of which had made famous the Venetian village 
 Murano. Thus much for the cupboards, or 
 rather bottle-boards, which with open doors 
 graced the two corners of the room on either 
 side the window. The table had a small de- 
 tachment from each of these depots marshalled 
 before the Padre''s easy-chair, to which that 
 sage philosopher had betaken himself with a 
 gravity that was more amusing than edify- 
 ing to his wondering guest. Divers sheets of 
 paper, where ink and wine stains appeared cu- 
 riously blended, lay at his right hand ; while 
 a dish, containing a loaf of bread, and a few 
 goat-milk cheeses about the size of a pattypan.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 251 
 
 the whole garnished with a scattering of well- 
 worn pens, completed the arrangements. For a 
 few moments Nicolao sat in perfect silence, now 
 admiringly regarding the strange gallimaufry 
 around him, and now whimsically peering into 
 the serious countenance of the Padre Chaves, 
 who attempted not to resolve the mysteries of 
 his laboratory. 
 
 " May I ask the cause of so much grave pre- 
 paration, — of such a gathering of flasks, fla- 
 gons, bottles, and demijons ?" at length inquired 
 the servitor with an affected air of solemnity. 
 
 " Thou mayest, my son," answered the Pa- 
 dre ; " what I do is not to be concealed ; it is 
 for the benefit of all. I have a great purpose 
 in hand, Nicolao. — But first tell me how and 
 why thou hast come back from the wars ?'' 
 
 " Thou hast replied to my question by put- 
 ting to me another, and thus will I in return 
 answer thee, Padre," said Nicolao : " my call 
 on thee this evening is to ask what has become 
 of the Senhora Juana de Saltero and the two 
 Donnas, who, according to that worthy lady's 
 showing, were too fortunate in possessing so
 
 252 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 experienced a Duenna, to instruct them in 
 morality, embroidery, and all other female 
 accomplishments. If thou must learn why I 
 am once more in these parts, be it known to 
 thee, my master has sent me from Cadiz to 
 pick up court gossip ; and the abandonment 
 of the Quinta de Montoyo to empty silence, 
 under the superintendence of old Jose, is about 
 as wonderful as thy leaden gravity behind that 
 phalanx of bottles. Thou didst once laugh over 
 thy cups, but now thou dost look as though 
 thou wert essayer of vinegar to some mad Han- 
 nibal who sought a solvent for the mountains 
 in the moon. Is there aught good in those 
 queer, tall, short, round, square, pot-bellied, 
 and crane-necked vessel s ; or are they recep- 
 tacles for verjuice, or repositories of poison ?" 
 
 " Thy last suggestion is right, my friend,"" 
 replied the priest, his profound expression of 
 countenance not in the least disturbed, and 
 filling a cup to the brim from a sort of case- 
 bottle before him. " Poisons these are, most 
 dangerous in their nature ; — ay, thou mayest 
 start: still I offer this draught to thee, that
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 253 
 
 thou mayest bear witness to its properties. It 
 is a serious responsibility, Nicolao, my son," 
 continued the Padre with maudlin gravity, 
 " to be obliged to test these matters alone, and 
 trust only to mine own palate. I have been 
 a martyr to the cause already, and I am natu- 
 rally anxious to share the burden. Thou need- 
 est not fear that the effect will be sudden : this 
 is the vinous poison called Cyprus ; it is of 
 foreign growth, is sweet, rather thick, and with 
 Tokay and Lepari, being made from the grape 
 allowed partially to dry ere it is plucked, much 
 resembles the vina cocta of the ancients ; a 
 tradition of which exists, that it was so dense 
 as sometimes to be cut with a knife. I take it, 
 Nicolao, the poison is more subtle in the pre- 
 sent fluid state !" 
 
 " Rather too sweet for my drinking," re- 
 marked the servitor, who, however, emptied the 
 cup immediately he heard its contents to be of 
 a safe character. "I see thou art still engaged 
 in the study thou didst commence with the 
 fifty pieces. Whence came thy new resources ? 
 Thou hast been marrying by proxy again, I
 
 254 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 warrant. Well, never trouble thyself to tell 
 me : — all I ask is, what hast thou done with 
 the Montoyos ?" 
 
 " Nicolao,'* sedately replied the Padre, " the 
 Marquis moved his family from the Quinta 
 without deigning to make mention of the mat- 
 ter to their confessor. The cause of their sud- 
 den departure I know not : I have washed my 
 hands of them, and beg that the name of Mon- 
 toyo may not be mentioned in my hearing. 
 Thank Heaven ! I am able to pursue the great 
 work to which I have devoted myself, without 
 the aid I might have expected from Dom Chris- 
 tovao. The small matters in his cellar were 
 never particularly curious, and I believe I have 
 all the varieties therein contained from other 
 quarters. See this Lachryma Christi ; it is the 
 only wine Italy now produces that is at all dan- 
 gerous from its insinuating properties : yet it is 
 the country which, as grave authorities inform 
 us, was once famous, or, I should rather say, 
 infamous" — (the Padre, here hastily correct- 
 ing himself, took a huge gulp from the cup he 
 had filled at the moment) — " for vinous poi-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 255 
 
 sons : witness the wines of Calenum, of For- 
 mia, and of Massicum ; also the ancient Faler- 
 num, which was drunk by the Romans mixed 
 with honey or the Greek wine of Chios. The 
 lava of Vesuvius, flung from that burning hell 
 upon earth, is, however, still employed in nur- 
 turing this peculiarly insidious beverage to the 
 ruin of souls. Taste it, my son !"" 
 
 Nicolao, as he was bid, quaff'ed of the offer- 
 ed drink. 
 
 " It hath a nice aroma," remarked he, re- 
 turning the cup after a moderate draught, 
 " but too delicate for me. Hast nothing that 
 is strong and rough, as well as clean to the 
 palate ?" 
 
 " Out on thee ! out on thee !" exclaimed the 
 Padre, with real or affected horror ; " I fear 
 thou dost not drink for the sake of science. 
 Well, I suppose I must make allowance for 
 thee ; — thou hast not the pious purpose in hand 
 which influences ?jij/ zeal. I can indulge thy 
 taste ; thou hast only to say where it lies. I 
 cry not up wine and sell vinegar," continued 
 the churchman, using the old proverb, as he
 
 256 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 gazed around him with an air of triumph, and 
 prepared himself to describe the treasures of 
 his laboratory. 
 
 " Behold the sparkling wine of France, made 
 from the unripe grape, snatched from the vine 
 by the impatient hand of man, who, eager to 
 poison himself with the subtle fluid, waits not 
 nature's appointed time. This, again, is the 
 vin du pays of France, — sour, affecting the 
 lower internals : a small sample of that suf- 
 ficeth me, as I find it hath but little influence 
 on the head, and therefore no moral danger 
 lurketh within it. In those bottles on the 
 upper shelf of that cupboard thou wilt find 
 Grecian wines, perfumed, and flavoured with 
 turpentine, resembling the vina pkata of the 
 ancients. Those ancients, my son, were blind 
 and furious drinkers: they quaff*ed to each 
 other, crying, ' May est thou live !' and, be- 
 hold ! they drank that which did consume them. 
 But I will go on to spread thy choice before 
 thee,'" continued the priest, with the self-satis- 
 faction of a virtuoso exhibiting his treasures. 
 ** Dost like the borrachio taste ? — thou hast
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 257 
 
 only to open yon leathern bottle. That wine 
 was made from the vineyards near Oporto, and 
 is tinted with the colour of the elderberry; — you 
 will find it strong, rough, and highly astrin- 
 gent. I have suffered much from that drink 
 to be assured of its properties, and to catch the 
 flavour to a nicety," remarked the Padre with 
 an air of profound resignation : " it contracts 
 the muscles about the region of the mouth to 
 an extent which prevents that useful organ 
 holding enough to ensure you the exact aroma 
 of the beverage ; — thus have I been obliged to 
 allow a continual flow of, maybe a quart, into 
 my gullet, till I have almost sunk under the 
 infliction. Oh ! Nicolao, I have been a mar- 
 tyr to the cause !'* 
 
 " Doubtless, doubtless, my worthy friend," 
 exclaimed the servitor, when he had recovered 
 from an immoderate fit of laughing. 
 
 " Doubtless, thou art a most insolent var- 
 let !" responded the Padre ; " and, but for old 
 acquaintance sake, thou shouldst drink of the 
 fountain in the village for me !*" — And, his feel- 
 ings being somewhat hurt, the priest arose,
 
 ^58 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 grasped a bottle which he had been just about 
 to uncork, and staggered towards a cupboard. 
 
 " Forgive me ! forgive me, Padre !" inter- 
 ceded Nicolao, who was too well amused with 
 the scene to wish it shortened ; " I did but 
 laugh at a thought that tickled me. What 
 hast thou in that bottle ?'* 
 
 "It was an ill-mannered thought of thine, 
 my son," said Chaves, returning to the table 
 with uneven step, and again lodging himself in 
 his chair ; " but ' leave a jest, when it pleaseth 
 thee best:' I have my head too full of grave 
 matters to be easily affected by such as thou ! 
 Didst ask me the nature of this wine ? — it is 
 the growth of Spain, and will, I think, suit 
 thy palate. It hath not the vile oak-chip 
 flavour of the wines near Lisboa, but is quite 
 as dry a beverage; — 'tis called Xeres, and ob- 
 tains its hard flavour by the sprinkling of lime 
 on the grape in pressing."*' 
 
 Nicolao drank a full cup with the gusto of a 
 Falstaff, and the Padre shook his head mourn- 
 fully as he received back the empty vessel. 
 
 " Nicolao, thou art, I fear, a drunkard !" —
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 259 
 
 The priest here solemnly quaffed a potion of 
 the same bottle, and made a note on the paper 
 before him. 
 
 '' Why, thou didst not dislike thy cup when 
 we last met at this board," remarked the servi- 
 tor : " I pray thee, tell me the cause of thy 
 present sober bearing." 
 
 " The reason, my son, is here. Dost see 
 these pages ? — they belong to the erudite 
 work of which I told thee. When my book 
 is, by the permission of the Holy Office, put 
 forth to the world, I shall have my reward for 
 all I have suffered. Once, indeed, as ungra- 
 ciously thou dost remind me, I did indulge in 
 drink ; but good hath come out of evil. My at- 
 tention was thereby drawn to the vice in others ; 
 and my head hath been, by practice, enabled 
 to prosecute the study in which I am now en- 
 gaged. I have, of late, drunk only for edifica- 
 tion. I can tell the flavour of the rose in com- 
 mon wine ; well may it blush, to urge the un- 
 happy drunkard to excess : — I can tell, too, 
 when the flower of the vine hath been steeped 
 in the juice, after the manner of the Egyptians."
 
 2G0 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 The Padre's head was now lolling from side 
 to side, and his visual orbs rolled in time to 
 its measured movement, as the goggle-eyes in 
 a face attached to a Dutch clock, work with 
 the pendulum. Still he continued the display 
 of his vinous lore, much to the edification of 
 his guest, who did not fail to test such of the 
 bottles as were conveniently within his reach, 
 the churchman setting him a fair example. 
 
 " I can detect the orris-root in the wine of 
 the French : — dost think I cannot ?" (hiccup !) 
 " I know the wine of Shiraz and Syracuse, and 
 Rhenish and Moselle ; and I know when they 
 don't give me the right stuff for my money." 
 (hiccup !) " Let me catch that vile Pinto of 
 Lisboa selling me small wine doctored with 
 the flavour of Johannisberg, and calling it by 
 that holy name." (hiccup !) " I will have him 
 before the Inquisition :" (hiccup !) " I will ex- 
 plain to the right reverend fathers how alco- 
 hol, combining itself with the attractive fruity 
 matter, loses its fiery properties, and is a whole- 
 some drink, — taken in quantities not less than 
 a quart, Nicolao,"" (hiccup !) — " not less than 
 a quart." (hiccup !) " Help thyself"
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 261 
 
 Here the Padre had arrived at that unhappy 
 condition when he could no longer help him- 
 self, and sank into a heavy slumber. Nicolao 
 called Antoine, and, commending the philosoph- 
 ical priest to his servitor's attentions, betook 
 himself to his horse, as he had not the least 
 wish to meet Marguerita, fearing she might 
 unjustly lay the blame of her reverend uncle's 
 apparent intoxication to his charge, instead of 
 ascribing it to the Padre's having been over- 
 come by study. He had not, however, pro- 
 ceeded a quarter of a mile from the village 
 when he descried two travellers in somewhat 
 flowing drapery approaching him : they were 
 mounted, as well as he could discern, on asses ; 
 and soon Nicolao heard the voice of Margue- 
 rita speaking to a companion. 
 
 " Padre Jerome, you are a good creature, 
 and will see me properly righted : I have served 
 my uncle faithfully for 3- ears ; and, now he has 
 the money, he should make some little provision 
 for me, — and then, as you say, it will be only 
 proper that I should leave him." 
 
 What answer that " gdod creature," Padre 
 Jerome, might have made, it is impossible to
 
 262 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 imagine, he having discovered the near ap- 
 proach of a stranger, who immediately after- 
 wards was recognised by Marguerita in the 
 clear starlight, and hailed accordingly. 
 
 " Senhor Nicolao, thou hast been to see the 
 Padre, — how is my respected relative ? I am 
 all anxiety about him, having been detained 
 longer than I intended at Lisboa ; — nor could I 
 have ventured home so late, had not a very 
 dear friend of my uncle's. Padre Jerome, of 
 La Piedade monastery, offered to bear me com- 
 pany/' 
 
 Nicolao assured the attached Senhora of the 
 bibitory philosopher's well-doing, and turned 
 his horse to accompany Marguerita towards the 
 V-illage ; — not, as it may be supposed, to wit- 
 ness a scene when she arrived home, but con- 
 sidering it possible that he might elicit from 
 the niece what he had failed in drawing from 
 the uncle. He cautiously commenced by ask- 
 ing a blessing of the athletic, stockingless priest, 
 who was seated sideways on a large ass, which 
 had need of all its strength to bear the pious 
 burden.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 263 
 
 '* Benedicite ! my son," responded the 
 churchman : " thou hast been to my brother 
 Chaves ?" 
 
 " Yes, father, and I have still to seek the 
 information I would have gained from him, as 
 I found the Padre so full of his new science, 
 that I could not get a word of guidance from 
 him." 
 
 " Is it spiritual guidance that thou dost 
 want, my son ?" asked the priest ; " if so, I 
 would offer it to thee." 
 
 " Thanks, father, thanks ! — it is of a more 
 sublunary character. I think the Senhora 
 Marguerita can resolve my questions :" — and 
 here Nicolao turned to the Scalsado's compa- 
 nion, and made his inquiries respecting the 
 movements of the Montoyo family. 
 
 " Thou couldst not have applied in a better 
 quarter," readily answered Marguerita ; " but 
 I wonder much my uncle did not tell thee. 
 There is a scandal that the Senhora Zuma is 
 gone off in the disguise of a page with the Dom 
 Christovao to the wars ; and that the Donna 
 Beatrice was sent to Oporto with the Senhora
 
 264 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Juana, to be out of the hearing of such an 
 indelicate arrangement. There, now, thou hast 
 my news ; and let us leave such an improper 
 subject for a company composed of a pious 
 priest like Padre Jerome, a maiden like my- 
 self, and a servitor just returned, as I imagine, 
 from the holy war against the infidels. How 
 speeds the good cause in Barbary ?" 
 
 " It is a question I cannot answer thee," 
 replied Nicolao, " seeing that I came last from 
 Cadiz, and the expedition had not departed 
 for the coast. Commend me to thine uncle ;'* 
 and the servitor, turning his horse's head, most 
 unceremoniously parted company, proceeding 
 on his route to Lisbon. The next day he 
 continued his inquiries respecting the Donna 
 Beatrice, and found so many and such contra- 
 dictory reports connected with the departure 
 of the Montoyos, that he soon gave up all 
 hope of prosecuting his mission : consequently 
 he devoted himself to a little love affair of 
 his own till the first ship sailed for Africa, 
 where he was to rejoin his royal master. 
 
 Marguerita was not much surprised to find
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 265 
 
 Padre Chaves in the state we left him ; nor 
 was the professor of vinous poisons disturb- 
 ed ; as, the cupboard^s being for once open 
 while his protecting eyes were shut, his niece 
 and Padre Jerome commenced a rummage 
 which terminated little to their satisfaction. 
 No money was to be found. The reward 
 which the recluse of the Arabida had promised 
 Chaves for sundry services had certainly been 
 paid, but as certainly expended in the further- 
 ance of the Padre's favourite study. 
 
 On the waking of that worthy churchman, 
 — which fortunately did not take place till the 
 search had concluded, — he was sufficiently re- 
 freshed by his nap to put on a very dignified 
 deportment, as he assured his friends that his 
 studies had nearly arrived at a conclusion, — a 
 fact which was highly probable, the greater 
 portion of that congregation of bottles being 
 empty. As no money was to be had in pay- 
 ment of arrears of services, no mention was 
 made of Marguerita's intended falling-ofF from 
 her allegiance. Padre Jerome was offered a 
 bed for the night, and on the morrow departed ; 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 having advised the niece to continue with her 
 uncle, as, upon second thoughts, it might not 
 be a prudent, or indeed a grateful or proper 
 proceeding, to forsake her infirm relation ; — 
 and, as to the peculiar view he took regarding 
 the necessity of experimentalising on himself, 
 it was not for the laity to judge the actions 
 of the priesthood. 
 
 We have sought with much earnestness for 
 further notice respecting Padre Chaves, but 
 in vain. In the library appertaining to the 
 convent at Belem, there is a learned treatise 
 published by permission of the Inquisition at 
 Lisbon in the year 1580, — " On the subtle 
 and dangerous influences of Vinous Poisons:" 
 together with a marvellously curious Discourse 
 on the possibility of forming a Society of 
 Water drinkers. Much of the title-page is 
 wanting, but we are inclined to give the cre- 
 dit of this erudite work to our friend Padre 
 Chaves.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 26' 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE EXPEDITION. 
 
 Immediately the Spanish reinforcements ar- 
 rived, which, large as had been the promises 
 of Philip, amounted to little more than two 
 thousand men, Dom Sebastian departed from 
 Cadiz with four galleys, and landed at Tan- 
 giers on the 6th of July 1578. The fleet had 
 proceeded direct to Arzilla, a Portuguese settle- 
 ment further to the south-west on the Barbary 
 coast, and nearer El Araish, the ostensible, 
 though, as the reader is aware, not the only 
 object of the expedition. The King had de- 
 tached himself from his army, in the hope of 
 learning the disposition of the Moorish forces 
 from Dom Duarte de Menezes, the intelligent 
 
 n2
 
 26S LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 governor of Tangiers, who, having passed many 
 years in his African command, was well ac- 
 quainted with the resources of the country. 
 At this fortress, Sebastian, moreover, expected 
 to be joined by Muley Hamet, the dethroned 
 Moorish emperor, nor was he in either of these 
 objects disappointed. Dom Duarte had made 
 himself acquainted with the movements of Mu- 
 ley Moloch's forces, — which, threatening to 
 pour on the invaders an army nearly five times 
 their numerical strength, still did not appal the 
 sanguine monarch ; — and Hamet was awaiting 
 his arrival with about three hundred mounted 
 followersj and his son, a boy of twelve years 
 of age, who was delivered into the hands of 
 the Portuguese, a pledge for the fulfilment of 
 his father's treaty with their king. 
 
 Sebastian remained but two days at Tan- 
 giers, to draw from that garrison all its avail- 
 able strength ; and then sailed for Ai zilla, ac- 
 companied by Dom Duarte and his new ally. 
 The former of these, a tried and experienced 
 soldier, regarded the expedition as a species
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 2G9 
 
 of forlorn hope, in which all were bound to 
 perform their duty, however apparent the de- 
 sperate nature of the undertaking; the latter 
 was intent on deceiving the Christians into a 
 belief of his firm support, which he meant 
 should only continue so long as their successes 
 advanced his cause : deliberately had he re. 
 solved, — should he re-establish his Mahome- 
 dan party, and thus be enabled safely to break 
 his present engagements, — on the destruction 
 of allies whom he hated even while he invited 
 them to the shores of Barbary. 
 
 The Christian forces encamped outside the 
 walls of Arzilla — that town being too small 
 to contain so large an army — we shall now 
 briefly enumerate. The Portuguese infantry 
 arquebusiers, musqueteers, and spearmen, mus- 
 tered nearly nine thousand strong : — the aux- 
 iliary foot-soldiers comprised two thousand 
 Castilians, under command of Don Alonso Ar- 
 guila ; — two thousand Germans, their general 
 an experienced officer named Aubrey; — and the 
 Italian mercenaries, commanded by Sir Tho-
 
 270 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 mas Stukely, — this gallant adventurer with 
 his followers emulating in those later days the 
 career of certain free companies, which, in the 
 wars of a former century, were ever ready to 
 throw their swords into the balance on the side 
 most likely to ensure them renown, or rather 
 the more substantial recompence of pay and 
 plunder. The Christian squadrons combined 
 the chivalry of Portugal, with many noble 
 volunteers from other nations anxious to share 
 in the crusade, for such it was generally esteem- 
 ed. These dons and cavaliers, — the heads and 
 scions of the most ancient families in Europe, 
 — maybe computed at twelve hundred horse- 
 men : they were commanded by Dom Christovao 
 de Favora, a leader of courage, but little expe- 
 rience. Adding to this gallant band Muley 
 Hamefs followers, the mounted force of Sebas- 
 tian would appear to have numbered about fif- 
 teen hundred. His artillery train consisted of 
 twelve guns, which we must in courtesy call 
 field-pieces, though they were far from light 
 of transport ; and his personal staff comprised
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 271 
 
 two-thirds of the Portuguese nobility, together 
 with about thirty ecclesiastics in attendance 
 on the bodily as well as the spiritual welfare 
 of the warriors : they were, in fact, the surgeons 
 of the army. We will not fill our pages with 
 illustrious names which concern not our story ; 
 it may suffice to say that Christovao de Mon- 
 toyo was among the most assiduous followers 
 of the King. Though, with assumed diffidence 
 of his own abilities, he refused all military 
 command, he (holding the less conspicuous 
 appointment of royal aide-de-camp) succeeded 
 in making himself the mover of the whole 
 expedition, the adviser of his unsuspecting 
 sovereign when safer counsellors were not near, 
 and the subverter of every plan that seemed 
 likely to aid the Christian cause. 
 
 As no doubt existed, amongst those who 
 considered themselves the best informed on the 
 subject, that Sebastian's return to Portugal 
 would be immediately followed by his marriage 
 with the Princess of Spain, Christovao con- 
 templated the successful termination of the
 
 272 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 African expedition as the certain consumma- 
 tion of his family's dishonour. It is a strange 
 reasoning by which we are accustomed to re- 
 gard our own failings so partially, as not to 
 perceive in them the moral lesson which is so 
 apparent to us in the faults of others. Bea- 
 trice had dishonoured her family by becoming 
 the mistress of the King ; Sebastian had of- 
 fered insult to the house of Montoyo, and pre- 
 meditated injury to its representative, by the 
 seduction of his sister: but Christovao did not 
 consider the betrayal of the confiding, unpro- 
 tected Zuma, incompatible with the honour of 
 a Montoyo ! — the favourite and adviser of 
 Sebastian felt not that he was acting the part 
 of a traitor to his country, in the pursuit of 
 private revenge on its king ! No ! — recklessly 
 blind to all personal consequences, and indif- 
 ferent to the political interests of Portugal, he 
 imagined that he was justified in avenging, by 
 this general ruin, the injury done to his an- 
 cient house. 
 
 The confiding monarch, desirous of heaping
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 273 
 
 favours on the son of his preceptor, — compen- 
 sating to Christovao for the injustice which 
 marked his father's dismissal from the court, — 
 had at once opened to the ambitious Marquis 
 the prospect of a long political career. Soon 
 the evident attachment of Sebastian to the so- 
 ciety of his sister promised to him that future 
 position which even the wildest aspirings of 
 his inordinate pride had not led him to con- 
 template. Beatrice the Queen of Portugal, 
 the Marquis de Montoyo might ere long be 
 uncle to the heir-apparent of the throne, — and 
 why not regent of the kingdom ? — for who 
 could imagine length of days to be in store for 
 the adventurous and imprudent Sebastian ? 
 The reader is acquainted with the sudden 
 prostration of these hopes, even while events 
 had ensured their fulfilment; — events which 
 would most certainly have been made known 
 to Christovao, had not his pride, which Sebas- 
 tian failed not to perceive overpowered his 
 judgment, rendered him an unsafe confidant. 
 This pride, combined with a desire of ven- 
 
 N 5
 
 274 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 geance, excited more by the destruction of his 
 lofty expectations than the fancied dishonour 
 of his sister, now consumed him, to the ex- 
 tinction of every better principle. One hope 
 yet remained to him : ever and anon he would 
 dream of making his abode in Africa, where 
 the face of a European might never visit him ; 
 — Sebastian and Beatrice sacrificed to his ven- 
 geance, and Zuma his companion in some deep 
 glen of the Claros. He would listen to the 
 accounts given of their mountain homes by 
 the retainers of Muley Hamet : then would 
 he break his long silence, and carelessly ask 
 if a Christian might live unmolested amid the 
 tribes, — a question which was ever answered 
 in the affirmative, for these mountaineers had 
 few religious prejudices. 
 
 " So thou art not a Jew," said a swarthy 
 Arab with whom Christovao made frequent 
 converse, '^ and pretendest not to more wealth 
 than thy neighbours, thou mayest live amongst 
 us safely. But why not be a renegade.'^ I 
 have seen better men than thou forsake the
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 275 
 
 Cross for the Crescent. It is never too late 
 to be wise/' 
 
 " A renegade !" said Christovao to himself, 
 as the Arab, Selim, turned away after putting 
 forth this sage axiom : " why not be a rene- 
 gade ? It may come to this, — and Zuma 
 shall be the light of my harem." 
 
 Sebastian having organised his army, and 
 appointed the superior officers to their various 
 commands, called a council of war to deter- 
 mine the operations of the campaign. The 
 earliest question to be decided was, the most 
 advisable approach to El Araish, a fortified 
 town which it had been from the first resolved 
 should be subjugated by the Christian arms, 
 if no other result arose from the invasion of 
 the Barbary states. As a large fleet was still 
 at their disposal, a majority of Sebastian's 
 military counsellors advised a re-embarkation 
 of the army, — and that a landing should be 
 effected within a convenient distance of El 
 Araish, rather than expose the troops to a 
 toilsome march of many days, subjected to tlie
 
 276 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 effects of climate, and the harassing attacks of 
 vast hordes of Arabs, already known to have 
 taken the field. The first who advocated this 
 plan of proceeding was Muley Hamet, who, 
 having received advices of the Emperor Mu- 
 ley Moloch's illness, had a presentiment that 
 the death of his rival would place him on 
 the throne of Fez and Morocco without the 
 interference of the Christians. To delay their 
 advance, and to divide their counsels, was his 
 present policy. The numerical strength of the 
 invading army had much disappointed him ; 
 and he now trusted more to the expected de- 
 cease of his uncle, (an event which, it is to be 
 feared, he was not guiltless of hastening by 
 the poison of his emissaries,) than to his 
 foreign allies. 
 
 Whatever might have actuated the sugges- 
 tions of the Moorish prince, it appeared to 
 Sebastian^s more experienced counsellors that 
 his advice was judicious ; but that monarch 
 opposed the re-embarkation of his army, sup- 
 ported by his young nobility, who, with their
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 277 
 
 ardent King, looked upon such a proceeding 
 as a grievous delay to the triumph of cer- 
 tain conquest, which they imagined lay before 
 them : and, in this instance, Christovao, whose 
 position allowed not of his appearing in the 
 councils of his royal master, without any in- 
 sidious efforts, had only to rejoice in a fatality 
 which threatened to make Sebastian rush on 
 his own destruction. 
 
 On the 29th of July the Christian army 
 commenced their march tov/ards El Araish, 
 and, after advancing about two leagues, en- 
 camped. The following morning a recontiais- 
 sance was made by a large detachment from 
 the Moorish army, which was now gathering 
 at Tremesenal, some leagues beyond the plains 
 of Alcazarquiver. Fifteen thousand cavalry 
 and two thousand foot crossed the river which 
 lay before the camp, at day-break, and ap- 
 proached the Portuguese videttes ; but they 
 were here gallantly opposed by Dom Duarte de 
 Menezes, he making a desperate charge with 
 a small body of horse, which totally discom-
 
 278 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 fited a force almost equal to the whole of the 
 Christian army. The King, whose pavilion 
 was situated at some distance from the quarter 
 threatened, aroused by a message from Duarte, 
 was hurriedly arming himself when Christo- 
 vao rushed into his tent. 
 
 " Why this abrupt entrance ?" exclaimed 
 Sebastian, impatiently snatching his casque 
 from a page. *' Has Menezes been beaten 
 back ?^' 
 
 " That is the last fear which need distress 
 your Majesty !" said Christovao, looking mean- 
 ingly at the attendant. 
 
 " Go, Diego, and wait without, — the Mar- 
 quis will arm me ; and, at thy peril, let these 
 buckles fit their purpose better when next I 
 require them in haste ! — Now, Christovao,'' 
 continued the monarch, when the reproved 
 boy had withdrawn, " your intelligence ! If 
 Duarte presses on the foe, then all should be 
 
 well r 
 
 *' Were your Majesty in the melee all 
 ivonfd be well !" insidiously remarked Mon-
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 279 
 
 toyo. " The Moors are flying, — Duarte charges 
 at the head of his squadron; his cry is not 
 ' Sebastian for the Holy Cross !' — but ' Men- 
 ezes for Tangiers !' Your Majesty will be 
 armed immediately ; my horse is at the door 
 of the tent. Let me check the ardour of our 
 troops till their legitimate commander, our 
 noble King, leads them on."" 
 
 " Right, right, my friend !" eagerly respond- 
 ed the deceived monarch. " Thanks for thy 
 jealous guardianship of mine honour ! Bid 
 Duarte assume the defensive, and await further 
 orders." 
 
 Christovao bore the ungracious message to 
 the veteran, who had the mortification of re- 
 maining inactive till the arrival of Sebastian 
 on the scene of action. It was only the delay 
 of a few moments, but it ensured the escape of 
 the Moors without further molestation : though 
 the King madly pursued them for several 
 leagues, at the risk of having his retreat to 
 the camp intercepted, he never came up with 
 the enemy. Thus was an opportunity lost of
 
 280 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 Striking terror into the hearts of the infidels 
 by success in the opening of the campaign, and 
 the feelings of an experienced general trifled 
 with ; while it remained but for Sebastian to 
 regret his impetuosity when it was too late, 
 and make those gracious concessions to Duarte 
 which his generous nature readily prompted. 
 Still, in the unfortunate issue of this affair he 
 blamed not Christovao : — Sebastian believed 
 that an anxiety to see his King the first to 
 reap in the harvest of fame had urged the 
 counsel the traitor had offered, and he loved 
 him the better for this zeal in behalf of his 
 sovereign's honour. 
 
 The Christians continued to advance till 
 they approached the river ElM''Hazen; but, 
 ere they took up their final position, Selim, the 
 Arab follower of Muley Hamet, — corrupted by 
 Montoyo's gold, — had been twice despatched 
 to the Moorish outposts with anonymous com- 
 munications from the Marquis to Muley Mo- 
 loch : these gave minute information as to the 
 contemplated movements of the invading army.
 
 SEBASTIAN OF PORTUGAL. 281 
 
 That a traitor was in the camp of Sebastian 
 is a point on which historians agree ; for, while 
 the Portuguese were altogether in ignorance 
 of their enemy's designs, the Moors were en- 
 abled to meet them at all points, from the 
 possession of intelligence which neither scouts 
 nor common spies could have secured them. 
 Still Sebastian, amid such disadvantages, with 
 confidence looked forward to the subjugation 
 of Barbary ; and, recklessly daring as he natu- 
 rally was, this particularly unfortunate charac- 
 teristic in a monarch, continually received new 
 incentives. Even while on the march to the 
 last scene of his desperate enterprise, Dom 
 Francisco Aldana was bearer of a helmet and 
 plume to the young King, once worn by his 
 grandfather, the heroic Charles the Fifth. This 
 was a gift from the Duke of Alva ; and, though 
 accompanied by a letter advising Sebastian to 
 limit his successes in Africa to the taking of 
 El Araish, — the glorious memories of history 
 which it awoke in the chivalrous monarch, 
 more than ever fired his desire of conquest,
 
 282 LEGEND AND ROMANCE. 
 
 and blinded him to the possibility of defeat. 
 Had not Alfonso and John of Portugal tri- 
 umphed over the Moors ? — did not the helm 
 that his grandsire bore to victory rest upon 
 his brow ? — and could the descendant of such 
 heroes be conquered ? We will now take a 
 rapid glance at the politics of Barbary, ere we 
 introduce the reader to the Moorish camp. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEYj 
 
 Dorset Street, Fleet Street.