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the word of the King of Shadow Valley and so he spoke of his castle as a man speaks the truth. And when she
asked him of his castle again, whether on rock or river or in leafy lands, he began to describe how its ten towers
stood, being builded of a rock that was slightly pink, and how they glowed across a hundred fields, especially at
evening; and suddenly he ceased, perceiving all in a moment he was speaking unwittingly in the words of Don
Alvidar and describing to Dona Mirana that rose-pink castle on Ebro. And Dona Mirana knew then that there was
some mystery about Rodriguez' home.
She spoke kindly to Rodriguez, yet she neither gave her consent nor yet withheld it, and he knew there was
no immediate hope in her words. Graceful as were his bows as he withdrew, he left with scarcely another word to
say. All day his castle hung over him like a cloud, not nebulous and evanescent only, but brooding darkly, boding
storms, such as the orange blossoms dread.
He walked again in the garden with Serafina, but Dona Mirana was never far, and the glamour of the former
evening, lit by one star, was driven from the garden by his anxieties about that castle of which he could not
speak. Serafina asked him of his home. He would not parry her question, and yet he could not tell her that all their
future hung on the promise of a man in an old leathern jacket calling himself a king. So the mystery of his
habitation deepened, spoiling the glamour of the evening. He spoke, instead, of the forest, hoping she might
know something of that strange monarch to whom they dwelt so near; but she glanced uneasily towards Shadow
Valley and told him that none in Lowlight went that way. Sorrow grew heavier round Rodriguez' heart at this:
believing in the promise of a man whose eyes he trusted he had asked Serafina to marry him, and Serafina had
said Yes; and now he found she knew nothing of such a man, which seemed somehow to Rodriguez to weaken
his promise, and, worst of all, she feared the place where he lived. He welcomed the approach of Dona Mirana,
and all three returned to the house. For the rest of that evening he spoke little; but he had formed his project.
When the two ladies retired Rodriguez, who had seemed tongue-tied for many hours, turned to Don Alderon.
His mother had told Don Alderon nothing yet; for she was troubled by the mystery of Rodriguez' castle, and would
give him time to make it clear if he could; for there was something about Rodriguez of which with many pages I
have tried to acquaint my reader but which was clear when first she saw him to Dona Mirana. In fact she liked him
at once, as I hope that perhaps by now my reader may. He turned to Don Alderon, who was surprised to see the
vehemence with which his guest suddenly spoke after those hours of silence, and Rodriguez told him the story of
his love and the story of both his castles, that which had vanished from the bank of the Ebro and that which was
promised him by the King of Shadow Valley. And often Don Alderon interrupted.
"Oh, Rodriguez," he said, "you are welcome to our ancient, unfortunate house": and later he said, "I have met
no man that had a prettier way with the sword."
But Rodriguez held on to the end, telling all he had to tell; and especially that he was landless and penniless
but for that one promise; and as for the sword, he said, he was but as a child playing before the sword of Don
Alderon. And this Don Alderon said was in no wise so, though there were a few cunning passes that he had
learned, hoping that the day might come for him to do God a service thereby by slaying some of the Moors: and
heartily he gave his consent and felicitation. But this Rodriguez would not have: "Come with me," he said, "to the
forest to the place where I met this man, and if we find him not there we will go to the house in which his
bowmen feast and there have news of him, and he shall show us the castle of his promise and, if it be such a
castle as you approve, then your consent shall be given, but if not ..."
"Gladly indeed," said Don Alderon. "We will start tomorrow."
And Rodriguez took his words literally, though his host had meant no more than what we should call "one of
these days," but Rodriguez was being consumed with a great impatience. And so they arranged it, and Don [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]