“I love thee too much poor youth, to grant thy foolish suit,” said the Hadgé, one day to him; “thou hast owned that death and perfidy have swept away all thy possessions, where then wouldst thou seek happiness? believe me it is only placed in piety. Stay contented with me, listen to my instructions; it will be impossible for such a soul as thine to remain long in darkness; I shall convert thee at last to the religion of our holy prophet; then, thou wilt bless thy misfortunes which brought thee to covet the bread of life. No, no, thou shalt not go; I am interested for thy soul.” This vain idea had fixed itself so firmly in the good mussulman’s mind that no protestations of Sebastian’s could shake it: the more the one resisted arguments the more the other redoubled them; and when he found his slave resolute in rejecting every persuasive for him to be present at one of their religious ceremonies, he merely shook his head, telling him the time would come when he would look back upon his present obstinate blindness with shame and compunction. Neither the indulgence, nor the good intention of Tefza, moderated that mixture of sorrow and resentment with which the still-impatient monarch of Portugal received this decision: disdaining further solicitation, and resolved never again to reveal his rank while it was in the power of adverse accident to give an air of doubt to such an assertion, he withdrew once more within himself; and like the proud steed newly brought under man’s subjection, who champs his bit, and paws the ground with indignation, he performed the duties of a slave with the haughty air of a prince. Adversity hardens some hearts, and melts others: Sebastian’s unfortunately did not soften from the grasp of calamity: his eyes, not yet opened to his own character, had not observed how inevitably some lines of conduct produce certain misery. Had he reflected dispassionately, he might have been convinced, that to his romantic wilfulness and contempt of counsel, all the disasters of Alcazar were attributable; that rash enterprize, together with his blameable attachment to the betrothed wife of De Castro, had prepared the hearts of his subjects for future indifference about his fate. There were times, indeed, when Sebastian severely censured parts of his own conduct, but for want of steadily tracing actions and their consequences through the whole of their course, he remained self-deluded, believing Providence, not himself, responsible for his heaviest calamities. Often did he exclaim, “What have I done to merit ruin like this!” Remote from any social intercourse, (for he abhorred the society of the Moors) and almost abandoned of hope, his spirit was gradually contracting a severity bordering upon hardness: that soft being was gone who alone knew how to melt him into tenderness; that soft being, who ever possessed a charm capable of awakening him to philanthropy and to delight.