Various

The Moorish Alcazar of Seville was situated on the banks of the Guadalquiver, and its bowers were renowned as the most delightful in Spain; yet they did not always resound to tones of joy and gladness. Sometimes Pedro’s violent temper displayed itself there, and the arching groves were silent witnesses of the fatal words of death. Oftener, however, they were graced by the presence of the king and Maria, and her gentle lute breathed a harmony which sometimes found a response in Pedro’s stormy spirit. At such moments he was singularly fascinating and graceful, and all that had in youth been gentle, seemed to flow into his maturer manners.

The king and Maria reclined upon a flowery bank which sloped down to the river, and Maria, touching her lute, attempted to dissipate the portentous gloom of Pedro’s sadness, and at first with a proud and lofty voice, and afterwards in a sweet and harmonious manner, sung these verses.

Wild and fierce the Guadalquiver

Down the mountain gorges crashes,

’Gainst opposing rocks that tower

In its current, boldly dashes,

While its white spray like the banner

Of a hostile army flashes.

Wildly speeds the Guadalquiver,

Proudly rushing Guadalquiver.

“Ah, my dearest lady, dost thou not see the peace which thou so sweetly singest of, can never be a prince’s.”

“Pedro, it may be thine.”

“Never.”

“Hast thou no pride to give up, no enemies to forgive? Need thy life-stream dash forever blindly amid the rocks? The valley is below; burst through the barriers that keep thee from its peaceful current.”

“It cannot be. Even now my enemies prepare a new struggle. Even to-night my hollow friend, my real enemy, my brother Fadrique sleeps within these walls. But never, never shall he—”

“Pedro, what mean’st thou?”

“That Fadrique dies.”

“Oh God!”

A page, interrupting them, announced Don Fadrique’s herald.

“Bid Reboledo and Don Juan of Arragon meet me in my closet. Go.”

“Pedro!”

“To-morrow, to-morrow, gentle Maria,” said the king, as he hastily strode away.

Diego Perez de Reboledo, and his friend the infantÉ, speedily attended the summons of Pedro.

“Don Fadrique has arrived,” said the king, in a careless tone.

“I have seen him, sire,” was the reply of Don Juan. “Know you that he is the envoy of Blanche of Bourbon?”

“Ha! is it so?” continued Pedro. “SeÑor Diego, there is a deep grudge between you and him; and I know that he is plotting against my crown. And even thou, Don Juan, losest no love toward him.”

“What is your meaning, sire?” said Reboledo with a sarcastic smile. “You may speak plainly here.”

“I would not have him leave these walls. Thou knowest the proverb, ‘Teach the falcon while he is thine.’”

“Nay, then; he shall be severely taught, an’ it be your will,” said Reboledo.

“Plainly, he must be dispatched, SeÑor Diego, and I trust to thee to have it done. As for the act, my guards will not be wanting.”

After some slight arrangements, made as coolly as if for a festival, the prince and Reboledo left the king to his own thoughts, which certainly were far from agreeable. Distrust is the inevitable poison of those who themselves break trust, and Pedro dared not leave the performance of the deed to his accomplices.

They might have some secret cause of hatred toward himself, and might save his intended victim for the furtherance of their own schemes.

——