“It is in their name I come, O King, to defend the land they love,” answered Bernardo, bending his knee, in a voice so young and fresh, life and youth seemed to waft with it into the gloom. There was a moment of silence. “Not now, Bernardo, not now, my boy. Leave me. I have vowed a _novena_ to the Virgin of Saragossa, whose favour I specially implore, with that of the Holy Santiago and Saint Isidore our patrons, on a great project I have in hand. Not now.” “Yes, _now_,” in a stern voice came from Bernardo, fronting the king, who had turned reluctantly towards him. “What I have to say brooks not a moment’s delay.” Another crash from without interrupts him, and a wild whirl of hail and rain rattle outside on the casement. “Oh, my lord,” he continues, “are there no valiant knights in Leon that you should betray your kingdom into the hands of a strange king?” “Betray? you dare to say _betray_, after the long and prosperous reign heaven has vouchsafed me?” cried Alonso, rising up from where he was kneeling as a subdued ray of light lit the sunken features of his emaciated face, with long white hair and beard, the natural fairness of his skin turned by time into a yellow tinge; his eyes full and grey, with thin imperceptible eyebrows, and cheeks deeply lined with wrinkles which collected on his high forehead under a silken cap. A noble face, once full of manly beauty, but with an expression of coldness and fickleness in the wandering eye, and weakness in the thin-lined mouth which marred it. Then in a louder tone he continued: “It ill becomes your slender years, Bernardo, and your lack of experience, to question the wisdom of your sovereign.” “But to sell us to a foreigner, my lord, to give us over into the hands of the Frankish wolf! This can never be. A courage equal to Charlemagne’s beats in a thousand Spanish breasts, and I, Bernardo, will lead them. Not secretly and treacherously, but in the light of day. Therefore I am come to warn you against yourself. For by no unbiassed will of your own have you done this thing.” “Silence, rash boy,” answered Alonso, roused into unwonted passion by these stinging words, “you presume upon my constant favour to insult me.” “Never, oh never! All that I know of kindness is from you,” and Bernardo cast himself at Alonso’s feet and seized his hands. “You are my king and master. I forget none of your bounties to a friendless boy” (at this word Alonso started, and laid his hand tenderly on Bernardo’s head, but presently withdrew it with a sigh); “but neither the crown you wear nor your bounties, had they been ten times greater, would make me a traitor to the land.” CHAPTER XVIII Bernardo del Carpio’s Vow