The next day, being a religious feast of the Moors, it was midnight
before the christian crew thought it safe to draw towards the shore.
They then ran their bark into an obscure creek, about a league from
the town of Tangier. A dull flame, which gleamed on the summit of the
rock, as if feeding on its surface, was the mariner's guide through the
intricate navigation. The cliffs were high and close; therefore all
was black darkness, excepting where this phosphoric beacon opened its
wandering fires.
A dead silence was maintained, during the working of the little ship
into its place of refuge; and, not until its bulging sides grated
against the point of landing, did Louis receive any intimation of
their being near the place of disembarkation. Martini pressed his arm,
and whispered--
"We must now go on shore; but continue silent, till we reach the
Hambra."
Rodrigo and the Italian jumped from the head of the vessel, upon the
land. Louis followed his conductor; leaving Lorenzo in the ship. For
nearly an hour, the cautious tread of their footsteps was all that
disturbed the profound stillness. They passed many low, flat-roofed
dwellings, whose inhabitants were shut in from even the light of the
stars, performing the last rites of their solemn feast. Such gloom was
in memory of the shadows which enveloped their prophet in his flight
from persecution; and to invade it by noise or intrusion, would have
been deemed sacrilege; and the blood of the transgressor must have
expiated his offence.
After their almost unbreathing passage along this populous road, they
struck into an avenue of date trees, and stopped before a building of
more spacious dimensions. Martini turned a key in a small arched door,
and gently opening it, they all passed through a short paved arcade,
into a court open to the sky, and dimly lighted under its pillared
aisles at the sides, with four painted lamps. A fountain in the centre
was discovered by the transient sparkling of its waters as they dashed
into a marble bason below.
Here silence was broken; and Martini told Louis, that although his
father was under that roof, he durst not introduce him immediately to
his presence. In the Duke's present exasperated state of mind, such an
abrupt entrance might destroy at once, every object of the interview;
and therefore he conjured him, to wait until His Excellency were at
least apprised of his arrival.
Louis had no resource but to remain where he was. He had too much
dependance on the honesty and discretion of Martini, to doubt his
prudence in this precaution. If the gloom around him were great, that
in his mind was of a deeper shade. He was alone; for the smuggler had
followed Martini. An hour elapsed in this irksome solitude. He listened
for the sound of a voice, or an approaching step; but the silence
continued unbroken. His suspense became intolerable; composure was no
longer in his power to assume. He paced the mosaic floor, with every
agitating conjecture; envying even the feelings of anticipated murder,
with which he awaited the first mysterious interview in the lonely
chateau of Phaffenberg. At last, the Italian and Rodrigo appeared at
the extremity of the court. The smuggler turned away through a dark
colonnade; and Martini advanced to Louis, who had darted towards him.
"Follow me, Signor; my Lord consents to see you."
It was a cold welcome; but Louis thought not of the words, since the
permission was granted. He hastened through the arcades, to a large
curtained door.--Martini drew it back, and Louis beheld the honoured
object of his long and filial pilgrimage. The Duke was standing with
his back to him, reading a scroll of paper. Nothing that was not purely
the son, was then in his labouring heart; and he was advancing to throw
himself at his father's feet, when Martini spoke:--
"My Lord! The Marquis de Montemar."
Ripperda turned his head.
"Let him wait my leisure," and, looking on the paper again, sternly
resumed his reading.
Louis stood.--The face of deadly paleness, the eye's livid flash, and
the deep, emaciated lines, furrowed with every trace of the burning
volcano within, filled him with a dismay, even more terrible than the
fierce estrangement this reception announced. But it was only for a
moment that his astounded faculties were transfixed by the direful
apprehension. He was his father still; his noble, injured, suffering
father! and, rushing forward, he flung himself on his knees before him,
and covered his face in his robe; for the hand he would have grasped
was withheld.