CHAPTER XXXVIII
THE LAST
I know not how long it was before the eyes of our mistress recoiled from that humorous front with which her great captain met the whole assembly. With her, I fear it must have been an age. Yet at last her gaze, that was now hapless, faltered altogether, and, like a proud-wingèd bird with its plumage torn, it fell to earth.
At the same instant this delectable form was shaken bitterly. And then our mistress looked up, and with eyes that shone no more like the Tagus, and with cheeks ashen white instead of the rosy carmine of a fair flower, she said with a most beautiful gentleness,—
“An it please you, Sirrah Red Dragon, I—I will wed the froward prince.”
Without permitting her unhappiness to stray away to him to whom this resolve was published, she summoned to her side the royal captive with an air that was ineffable.
The King, who was only too well acquainted with all that had passed, for it was of the highest significance to Castile and to himself, came forward at his youthful cousin’s behest.
“Froward prince,” said the Countess Sylvia, speaking with a sweet broken gentleness which yet seemed to proclaim a wide dominion of the soul, “your crime is forgot. The halters are taken from the throats of your ministers. Your treasuries are given back to you; and with them is given my good pleasure.”
With a cheek the colour of snow, our mistress held forth her slender jewelled fingers to him of Castile. Yet at first the King made no sign, perhaps for bewilderment or perhaps for shame. And then, slowly and modestly, with a humility in all his gestures, with a pure and noble fire in his eyes, he knelt before her and bowed his head.
THE END