And those, the two Morescoes who were with you?
Isidore. Both fell in a night brawl at Malaga. 85
Ordonio (in a low voice). My brother —
Isidore. Yes, my lord, I could not
tell you!
I thrust away the thought — it drove me wild.
But listen to me now — I pray you listen ——
Ordonio. Villain! no more. I’ll hear no more of it.
Isidore. My lord, it much imports your future safety 90
That you should hear it.
Ordonio (turning off from Isidore). Am not I a man!
‘Tis as it should be! tut — the deed itself
Was idle, and these after-pangs still idler!
Isidore. We met him in the very place you mentioned.
Hard by a grove of firs —
Ordonio. Enough — enough — 95
Isidore. He fought us valiantly, and wounded all;
In fine, compelled a parley.
Ordonio. Alvar! brother!
Isidore. He offered me his purse —
Ordonio. Yes?
Isidore. Yes — I spurned it. —
He promised us I know not what — in vain!
Then with a look and voice that overawed me, 100
He said, What mean you, friends? My life is dear:
I have a brother and a promised wife,
Who make life dear to me — and if I fall,
That brother will roam earth and hell for vengeance.
There was a likeness in his face to yours; 105
I asked his brother’s name: he said — Ordonio,
Son of Lord Valdez! I had well nigh fainted.
At length I said (if that indeed I said it,
And that no Spirit made my tongue its organ,)
That woman is dishonoured by that brother, 110
And he the man who sent us to destroy you.
He drove a thrust at me in rage. I told him
He wore her portrait round his neck. He look’d
As he had been made of the rock that propt his back —
Aye, just as you look now — only less ghastly! 115
At length recovering from his trance, he threw
His sword away, and bade us take his life,
It was not worth his keeping.
Ordonio. And you kill’d him?
Oh blood hounds! may eternal wrath flame round you!
He was his Maker’s Image undefac’d! 120
It seizes me — by Hell I will go on!
What — would’st thou stop, man? thy pale looks won’t save thee!
Oh cold — cold — cold! shot through with icy cold!
Isidore (aside). Were he alive he had returned ere now.
The consequence the same — dead through his plotting! 125
Ordonio. O this unutterable dying away — here —
This sickness of the heart!
What if I went
And liv’d in a hollow tomb, and fed on weeds?
Aye! that’s the road to heaven! O fool! fool! fool!
What have I done but that which nature destined, 130
Or the blind elements stirred up within me?
If good were meant, why were we made these beings?
And if not meant —
Isidore. You are disturbed, my lord!
Ordonio (starts). A gust of the soul! i’faith it overset me.
O ‘twas all folly — all! idle as laughter! 135
Now, Isidore! I swear that thou shalt aid me.
Isidore (in a low voice). I’ll perish first!
Ordonio. What dost thou
mutter of?
Isidore. Some of your servants know me, I am certain.
Ordonio. There’s some sense in that scruple; but we’ll mask you.
Isidore. They’ll know my gait: but stay! last night I watched 140
A stranger near the ruin in the wood,
Who as it seemed was gathering herbs and wild flowers.
I had followed him at distance, seen him scale
Its western wall, and by an easier entrance
Stole after him unnoticed. There I marked, 145
That mid the chequer work of light and shade
With curious choice he plucked no other flowers,
But those on which the moonlight fell: and once
I heard him muttering o’er the plant. A wizard —
Some gaunt slave prowling here for dark employment. 150
Ordonio. Doubtless you question’d him?
Isidore. ‘Twas my intention,
Having first traced him homeward to his haunt.
But lo! the stern Dominican, whose spies
Lurk every where, already (as it seemed)
Had given commission to his apt familiar 155
To seek and sound the Moor; who now returning,
Was by this trusty agent stopped midway.
I, dreading fresh suspicion if found near him
In that lone place, again concealed myself:
Yet within hearing. So the Moor was question’d, 160
And in your name, as lord of this domain,
Proudly he answered, ‘Say to the Lord Ordonio,
He that can bring the dead to life again!’
Ordonio. A strange reply!
Isidore. Aye, all of him is strange.
He called himself a Christian, yet he wears 165
The Moorish robes, as if he courted death.
Ordonio. Where does this wizard live?
Isidore (pointing to the distance). You see that brooklet?
Trace its course backward: through a narrow opening
It leads you to the place.
Ordonio. How shall I know it?
Isidore. You cannot err. It is a small green dell 170
Built all around with high off-sloping hills,
And from its shape our peasants aptly call it
The Giant’s Cradle. There’s a lake in the midst,
And round its banks tall wood that branches over,
And makes a kind of faery forest grow 175
Down in the water. At the further end
A puny cataract falls on the lake;
And there, a curious sight! you see its shadow