below; the minaurets of its mosques, and the flat roofs of its houses
were covered with light as with a mantle; profound repose rested on
these buildings; but a moment before they had been full of hurry and
noise: distant groves of tall palms, and the far-off mountains of Atlas
with their snowy summits, glittered faintly on the horizon, filling the
imagination with yet nobler images, and prompting genius and piety to
awake together. The whole prospect breathed peace, and all nature
appeared to feel in this majestic stillness the immediate presence of
her Almighty Maker.
Sebastian’s heart was touched, a sweet melancholy penetrated and filled
it, never before had he thought of Kara Aziek with so little passion or
so much love; never before had he contemplated eternity with her, with
so much enthusiasm; he repeated her name softly, and some tears stole
down his cheek.
“O beautiful planet!” he exclaimed, fixing his swimming eyes on the orb
above, “Thou alone art like my beloved! perhaps she is looking on thee
at this moment, and thinking of her Sebastian: our souls are then
meeting, Kara Aziek, sympathy unites them, though a hard fate separates
our lives.--Are we not destined to live together in another world?--O
yes, thou wilt abjure thy error, and give thyself to the God I worship.”
He stopt, mused awhile, then recollecting the dove, again looked
wistfully round. Perhaps some disaster had happened to her, some
wandering Alarbe might have shot her as she flew! at so probable an idea
composure vanished, and anxiety blended with pity began to encrease
insupportably.
But at that instant a bright speck is seen on the deep blue of the
Heavens; it increases, approaches! soon the white wings of a bird are
visible, they move swifter, they pause, it is the dove!
She drops from her height and alights beside him: Sebastian seizes her
hastily, but his trembling hand almost fears to grasp his prize; he
covers her head, her wings, with kisses, he feels the letter beneath
them, yet, as if afraid of too much joy, is unable to do more than to
renew those kisses and to call on Heaven as the witness of his
gratitude!
Having at last secured his treasure, neither humanity nor justice would
permit him to enjoy it, till he had rewarded its carrier; he ran with
the little creature in his bosom to his own chamber where he gave it
food and water, caressing it all the time with a fondness which excited
Barémel’s jealousy; he barked, and leaped upon his master as if to
remind him that he too had served him.
“What a change!” exclaimed Sebastian, musing, “from a court and crowds
of serving nobles, to this Moorish hovel; and these two mute creatures!
ah well, they love me, and are faithful.”
He now placed the pigeon in a cage of oziers which he had before
prepared for her, and while her weary eyes closed in sleep, and Barémel
was comforted by licking his master’s hand unchidden, the momentous
letter was opened and read.
All that the tenderest and freeest of hearts could dictate when
addressing the object dearest to it on earth, that letter contained; it
repeated vows of eternal constancy, and assured him that his freedom
would immediately be attempted: but the joy diffused over Sebastian’s
mind by this promise was blighted at once by learning, that a lamentable
disorder had seized El Hader, and that in consequence of it, Aziek
believed herself bound to remain with him.
“Thou wilt quit Barbary,” she wrote, “alas! thou wilt then have to quit
it alone, (for how can I clandestinely desert a dying father who has
indulgently heard my prayer of being released from the Basha?) but
thoughts of Kara Aziek’s love will live in thy generous soul, and thou
wilt claim her after thy return to Portugal.”
“Yet O! think not my beloved, that I will not follow thee to the
remotest corner of the globe, should the angel of death summon away my
kind parent: my soul is inseparable from thine; it is lost, confounded,
mixed with thine for ever. Whatever be thy destiny I have a precious
right to share it: in happiness or in misery art thou not _my_
Sebastian?”
In another part she described in the most affecting language her
emotions on receiving the proof of his preservation Sebastian did not
require so lively a picture of Kara Aziek’s devotedness to be convinced
that she lived only in him, and that while a sacred duty withheld her
from sharing his fate immediately, she was rending her heart to obey its
dictates. Alas! if he were to quit Barbary without her, how many years
might pass ere he could return to claim her!
The joyful tumults excited at first, now sunk into sadness; trouble and
apprehension took possession of that breast which so lately seemed
filled with an eternity of happiness, and reclining his head on his
hand, the sorrowful Sebastian sat thinking away the hours of night in
cheerless solitude.
Aziek had settled that Babec (the dove was so called,) should remain in
his care till after the arrival of Benzaide’s brother-in-law, and that
then the pretty messenger was to be dispatched with news to his
impatient mistress: Sebastian was to journey with his purchaser to the
house of Benzaide, from whence it would not be difficult to manage an
interview with Kara Aziek.
These were all the arrangements Aziek had yet made, at least all that
she had written down; for in her heart were multitudes of contrary
wishes, fantastic plans, seducing hopes, which she meant to communicate
to her lover when they met. She was indeed meditating a full avowal to
her father, whose sanction alone could reconcile such opposite
affections; this project however, required infinite consideration, as El
Hader might not easily give credit to the royal dignity, and base
injuries of his former slave, or if he did, might deem it an act of
conscience to betray him into the hands of his own sovereign: at any
rate a Mussulman’s antipathy to a Christian would cost much pains to
overcome.
After the lapse of a few days, Benzaide’s brother appeared at Riffa;
the Hadgé instantly recollected in him the merchant whom his slave had
succoured, and welcomed him, as he did all strangers, with benevolent
hospitality: but when he proposed purchasing his benefactor, and so
returning his goodness by the gift of freedom, Tefza turned pale,
stammered out some encomiums upon his gratitude, and refused the
request; a look of indignation from Sebastian made him cast down his
eyes.
The traveller ventured to name a decided sum of money, and receiving no
answer, doubled its amount; the Hadgé replied by a short angry negative:
again the traveller redoubled his offer, and again Tefza refused it; the
whole day was wasted in fruitless proposals on the one side, and firm
denials on the other.
Meanwhile Sebastian watched with breathless anxiety the countenances of
each; the letter Kara Aziek had sent him by Benzaide’s brother
increased this anxiety, as it contained an account of her father’s
heightened danger, warning him to prepare for many fresh obstacles if he
were not free at the moment of his death to snatch her from the power of
her relations. Tefza’s obstinacy almost irritated him to utter bitter
invectives against that bigotted religion by which it was dictated:
never before had he expressed himself so violently.
The Hadgé was grieved, somewhat displeased, but not shaken. “Come, come,
no more of this my son, you speak the language of the evil-one, and he
would fain make prey of that well-disposed heart of yours.--I know what
is good for you--my frequent prayers do not arise in vain--some day our
prophet will hear them, and you will feel that he does. What is money to
me?--I have plenty of it--I covet only the treasure of good works;--and
is it not a good work to save a soul?--once for all, I say I will not
part with you.--Traveller you have your answer.”--
Kara Aziek’s agent sorrowfully departed.--
Sebastian hesitated a moment, then remembering that he owed her a
sacrifice, he surmounted his towering spirit, and threw himself at the
old man’s feet: there he implored his generosity, he acknowledged his
obligations, he described his own affection and respect, but then he
painted his passionate longing for freedom in the liveliest colours, and
ventured to touch upon his own fidelity in having so long borne the
weight of servitude, rather than act treacherously to a confiding
master. In short he left no persuasion unapplied.
Tefza shed tears, and raised him tenderly; but he began upon the old
argument, repeating his unjust determination.
Lashed into fury Sebastian now flung away the Hadgé’s hand, and looking
at him with an inflamed countenance, exclaimed--“Take back then, all
your favours;--at least oppress me with them no more---- I here abjure
them, tell you I abhor them--will retain them no longer!--from this hour
I hold myself released from every scruple of honour, and will employ my
whole soul in trying to fly your accursed country! look well to me
then--say not I have basely deceived you, for I tell it you in the face
of Heaven.---- Why do you force me to this ingratitude, old man?--you
_have_ used me most graciously--may God bless you for it”--his voice
faultered as he spoke the last words, but impatient of reply, he rushed
out of the apartment.--
Blinded by passion, his reason did not see the folly of a too hasty
communication to Kara Aziek; he hurried to his own chamber, wrote her a
short detail of his disappointment, ending with an assurance that he
would break his bonds at any rate, and soon hasten to her: having taken
Babec from her cage, and fastened the vellum under her silver wing, he
opened the casement and let her fly.
Scarcely waiting till she should disappear, he left his room and ran
with the quickness of chafed feelings towards the town, where he had
several sick persons to visit, and much alms to distribute: this
occupation, by reminding him of the Hadgé’s best qualities, caused him
to regret having expressed his purpose, however determined, in such
harsh terms: regret increased painfully, and brought him back sooner
than his accustomed hour.--
Tefza was out, and did not re-appear till night was far wasted: on
seeing his slave quietly standing at the gate watching his return, he
uttered an exclamation of joy; Sebastian then found that the Hadgé had
been all these hours in search of him, whom he believed gone to put his
threat of flight into execution.
The garments of Tefza were dripping with wet, for it had rained heavily
after sun-set, and he was too solicitous to get tidings of his runaway,
to think of sheltering himself: he now embraced Sebastian, saying, he
trusted that Alla had made him repent his cruel anger, and disposed him
to continue happily with one who loved him like a father.
Gratitude and compunction did indeed appear in the King’s reply, but he
gently repeated his unaltered determination, even while occupied in
changing the old man’s soaked galebia, with a careful tenderness hostile
to his words. Tefza sighed, squeezed the Christian’s hand, and withdrew
shivering to his chamber.
The night was spent by Sebastian in such disturbance of mind as keeps
sleep far distant: passion and gratitude urged him to fly to Kara Aziek;
gratitude joined by honour forbade him to escape from Tefza. In the
storm raised by those contradictory emotions, reason’s voice was
unheard; what passion wished, she pronounced lawful, what her rival
attempted to say was hastily silenced.
Never before had Sebastian found it difficult to discover the path of
duty; he dreaded his final decision, because it might be influenced by
his desires, and nearly leaned to the erroneous side merely from fearing
himself too much.
The next morning however, found him resolved to regain his rightful
liberty by any means, since he had neither consented to part with it,
nor forfeited his claim by the commission of crimes: accident alone, not
even the chance of War, had brought him into bondage; perhaps, he
thought, they who enlist under her banners bind themselves to abide by
her nicer laws; here, however, no laws exist to chain me.--
Cheered by the serenity which always follows a resolution grounded upon
conscientious deliberation, he lightly left his room, and was proceeding
out of the house with an intent of purchasing in Riffa some coarse
habit to serve as a disguise, when a low groan arrested his steps; he
listened,--another, and another followed,--they came from the
sleeping-room of his master.
Forgetful of all those anxieties which but a moment before had engrossed
him, he pushed open the door, and cautiously entered; the sound of his
tread startled Tefza, he faintly unclosed his eyes, exclaiming “ah! is
it you, my son!--give me some drink--I am very ill.”
Sebastian hastened to his bed-side, on touching Tefza’s hand he found it
dry and burning; his eyes were heavy, his breath short--every symptom
announced one of those malignant fevers which so frequently ravage
Barbary, and are produced by excessive moisture after intense heats.
Struck with the conviction that it was to the search for him that Tefza
owed his malady, Sebastian’s heart smote him more powerfully than
justice required; he hurried to rouse the household slaves, and have
the physician sent for, then he returned to the old man, and sat
watching and soothing him by turns.
The Moorish doctor was just skilful enough to perceive his patient’s
extreme danger, and to prescribe a few innoxious useless simples; he
repeated his visit at night, by which time the Hadgé was delirious, and
his fever alarmingly increased.
Observing the ignorance of this practitioner, and remembering the
remedies resorted to by the Portuguese, Sebastian assumed some command,
and ventured to act according to the suggestions of his own
understanding; the medicines he administered were in some degree
successful: but a fierce disease must have its course; the fever raged
for one-and twenty days, till it had spent its fires, and then they went
out of themselves.
During this tedious period Sebastian was agitated by the greatest
inquietude for Kara Aziek; Benzaide’s brother-in-law (having delayed
his return a few days,) had been the bearer of a letter describing the
tie which now bound him to Riffa, and Babec had afterwards appeared with
the information of El Hader’s death, and the removal of Aziek to the
neighbouring house of an uncle.
Plunged in filial sorrow, she had scarcely said more than that her sad
heart needed the consolation of its dearest object, though at the same
time she urged him by every sacred law of gratitude and humanity not to
desert the Hadgé till death had released him, or health returned.
As Sebastian sat by the old man’s pillow, contemplating his wasted
figure while it lay composed in sleep, (for the fever had left him,) he
could not refrain from heaving deep and repeated sighs; a tedious
convalescence must follow such a violent disorder: Tefza, reduced to
infantine feebleness, would long require the tenderest care--who would
bestow it in the absence of Sebastian?--Alas, even goodness cannot
always insure to itself a comforter in the time of need! most men are
capable of making _one_ great sacrifice to their benefactor, but how few
are disposed to yield without murmuring, their time, their enjoyments,
nay their rest and personal liberty, in a continued round of privations!
“Poor childless old man!” said Sebastian, looking tenderly on him, “thou
hast thy wish, I remain with thee.”
At this virtuous resolution, some sweetness mingled with the pain of
regret: O delightful emotion of self-approval, how amply dost thou repay
the soul for any sacrifice!
Sebastian’s heart was calmed yet elevated, and he added devoutly--“This
is Heaven’s will.”
It was his purpose to stay at Riffa, till Tefza should be sufficiently
recovered, and then he hoped to obtain freedom from his gratitude,
without having recourse to violent measures. Kara Aziek, shut up in her
uncle’s house with the privacy of mourning, would be almost
inaccessible, were he near her abode, and it was therefore as well,
perhaps, for them to be thus far asunder, till her grief was enough
abated for them to concert together a mode of flight: two or three weeks
longer, and he hoped to be with Benzaide in the cavila of Benzeroel.
Tefza’s recovery was tryingly slow; and though he felt and acknowledged
his obligation to the heroic faithfulness of Sebastian, he had not the
heroism himself to repay it instantly by freedom:--he would only promise
freedom hereafter, but no intreaties could prevail on him to fix the
period.
The sickly state of his body and mind pleaded so powerfully for
indulgence, that Sebastian forbore to press the subject, secretly making
up his mind to a decisive step, should the old man’s wearying
irresolution render it necessary.
In the midst of these inquietudes, another billet arrived from Kara
Aziek, it was written hastily, and with a trembling hand: “Alas!” she
said, “we are lost, my beloved! my uncle has just informed me, that the
Basha of Syria, acquainted with my existence, has reclaimed my
person--he is set out to receive me--light of my soul! am I again to be
torn from thee? art thou to be lost to me at last?--despair and love
change my whole nature; I am no longer thy timid, starting Aziek. I
meditate a rash, ah me! perhaps an immodest step: I am going, disguised
like one of thy sex, to seek refuge in flight; Benzaide and her husband
will accompany me: we will bend our course to the dwelling of
Abensallah, his piety will be our protection and our guide, wilt thou
not meet me there, Sebastian? at least when gratitude and humanity have
no longer claims on thee, wilt thou not hasten to her, whom the most
passionate wishes, the wildest fears, consume hourly?--but oh! how
sweet it is, to feel life burning out for thee!
“Providence opens to me the door of liberty, this night perhaps, this
night, ah! haste my beloved.”
The most frightful pangs seized Sebastian on reading this letter, in
their first paroxysm he was on the point of hastening to Tefza, casting
himself at his feet, declaring his situation, and imploring permission
to depart; but the next moment he trembled at the rash suggestion,
confident that Tefza’s bigotry, would never pardon a Mahometan woman for
loving a Christian.
He then sought to allay his apprehensions by reflecting on the safe
asylum Kara Aziek had chosen; yet how would she arrive there? she, so
delicate, so timid, so inexperienced! was her tender frame made for the
haste and fatigue of flight! and that flight too, performed under
burning skies, upon uneasy animals, and exposed to numberless accidents!
were her sex discovered in that relentless country, (where women are
deemed impious if they believe themselves created without roots) shame
and punishment would follow.
At that thought the devoted lover fancied himself ready to pay any price
for her safety,--nay, even that of wholly resigning her; he thought so
only an instant; her soft beauties in the arms of another, was an idea
so abhorrent, that it maddened him as it passed, and banished all wish
for her delay.
He now hurried out in search of Tefza, and found him stretched along a
paillasse in his garden, enjoying the evening air; as he approached, the
infirm old man eyed him with an expression of thanking kindliness, which
pained while it pleased Sebastian: having uttered several assurances of
reviving health, and eaten heartily of some dish brought by a servant,
he afforded the impatient King an opportunity of remarking upon his
convalescence, and consequently of re-urging his suit.
The subject was once more discussed with vehement importunity by the
one, and useless arguments by the other; Sebastian was again inflamed to
passion, and again the weak Tefza became sick, and tearful, and
relenting.
“But one trial more!” he cried, detaining the King by his mantle, “thou
knowest how my heart yearns for thy conversion--gratitude for thy late
goodness encreases this desire, and makes me seem cruel to thee, when I
mean to be most kind. Only accompany me to Mecca; with the first
caravan, I go thither to bless the prophet for my life, and to implore
him for thee: should he not hear my unworthy prayers, should thy soul
remain unconverted by the piety thou wilt behold there, I swear to thee
by Mahomet himself, that in three days after our arrival, thou shalt be
free!”
Sebastian turned quickly round, and fixed his eyes on him with a look
that searched his soul: “Swear it to me!” he exclaimed, then as suddenly
stopping, he added, “Tefza I cannot consent, it will be too late.”
His fate at this period depended on the chance of a single moment; a
day, an hour, might ravish Kara Aziek from him, and with her all hope of
future happiness from the attainment of minor objects. Tefza’s repeated
refusal and desolate ill health, by turns maddened and melted him; yet
was he just enough to respect the old man’s motive, even while suffering
under its pernicious effects.
A new thought struck him: “we are not many leagues from Benzeroel,” he
cried, “let us go thither Tefza! you venerate the worthy dervise who
dwells among its mountains: we will state our case--you shall urge every
argument suggested by this fruitless wish of converting me,--I will
simply state the mode by which I became a slave, my desire of freedom,
my dutiful care of you in illness, and your indefinite promise:--if he
bid me go with you to Arabia, I will comply,--if he exhort you to
torture me no longer, but fulfil your promise, may I not expect that you
will obey him?”
Transported out of himself, Tefza caught the ardent King in his arms,
exclaiming--“I consent--we set out to-morrow.”
Leaving him no time for consideration, Sebastian hastily obtained
permission, and left the garden to order preparations for their journey:
while doing so, he reflected with some confusion upon the stratagem he
had used: his ingenuous nature abhorred even the appearance of artifice,
and this was not the first time in his life that he had given that name
to prudence.
To conceal any thing from another, interested in the subject of that
concealment, had uniformly seemed to him a species of insincerity,
which he never practised without extreme repugnance: this noble
prejudice now covered his brow with the colouring of shame: he paused
and considered “But what advantage do I mean to make of this artifice?
none that the Hadgé will not himself sanction; we shall both gain the
benefit of Abensallah’s counsel; he will perhaps convince Tefza, that
equity demands my freedom, and that not even their religion authorizes
unjust actions; he will persuade him, possibly, from this perilous
journey into Arabia,--if not, I do not mean to take sanctuary with
Abensallah, I will perform my engagement, and hasten back from Mecca to
Benzeroel; alas! all the good this stratagem may bestow, will be only
the satisfaction of seeing my beloved, of knowing that she is safe, and
can wait securely for me.”
Sebastian’s heart said all this sincerely, and he endeavoured to think,
that by withholding the principal motive of his present conduct from
Tefza, he was not deceiving, though he was not confiding in him.
By day-break on the morrow the travellers set forth: Tefza on a camel,
attended by two trusty servants, Sebastian on a stout mule, guarded by
the faithful Barémel, and cherishing in his bosom Kara Aziek’s dove.
This tender little creature, seemed in her lover’s eyes, a part of Aziek
herself: whenever he softly kissed its warm plumage, delightful emotions
thrilled through his veins; the balmy breath of its gentle mistress
appeared to be yet there, and he could fancy a thousand fond caresses
lavished on Babec, meant for him, and so rendered to him at last.
As he now mounted his mule, he lightly smoothed the bird’s silver wings,
pressed them yet lighter with his lips, and carefully laid her to rest
next his heart: the look he gave her, was such as a mother bestows on
her first born and only child!
Tefza smiled at his favorite slave’s _playthings_, as he called Barémel
and Babec, half inclined to think his wits disordered from such unmanly
solicitude about a bird; but too indulgent to say so, he waited till
Sebastian had safely adjusted his charge, and then ordered the camels,
&c. to proceed.