In vain he called to mind the sacred trust reposed in him by Count
Julian, and the promise he had given to watch over his daughter with
paternal care; his heart was vitiated by sensual indulgence, and the
consciousness of power had rendered him selfish in his gratifications.
Being one evening in the garden where the queen was diverting
herself with her damsels, and coming to the fountain where he had
beheld the innocent maidens at their sport, he could no longer
restrain the passion raging within his breast. Seating himself beside
the fountain, he called Florinda to draw forth a thorn which had
pierced his hand. The maiden knelt at his feet to examine his hand,
and the touch of her slender fingers thrilled through his veins.
As she knelt, too, her amber locks fell in rich ringlets about her
beautiful head, her innocent bosom palpitated beneath the crimson
bodice, and her timid blushes increased the effulgence of her charms.
Having examined the monarch’s hand in vain, she looked up in his face
with artless perplexity.
“Señor,” said she, “I can find no thorn nor any sign of wound.”
Don Roderick grasped her hand and pressed it to his heart. “It is
here, lovely Florinda!” said he; “it is here! and thou alone canst
pluck it forth!”
“My lord!” exclaimed the blushing and astonished maiden.
“Florinda!” said Don Roderick, “dost thou love me?”
“Señor,” said she, “my father taught me to love and reverence you. He
confided me to your care as one who would be as a parent to me, when
he should be far distant, serving your majesty with life and loyalty.
May God incline your majesty ever to protect me as a father.” So
saying, the maiden dropped her eyes to the ground, and continued
kneeling; but her countenance had become deadly pale, and as she
knelt she trembled.
“Florinda,” said the king, “either thou dost not, or thou wilt not,
understand me. I would have thee love me, not as a father, nor as
a monarch, but as one who adores thee. Why dost thou start? No one
shall know our loves; and, moreover, the love of a monarch inflicts
no degradation like the love of a common man; riches and honors
attend upon it. I will advance thee to rank and dignity, and place
thee above the proudest females of my court. Thy father, too, shall
be more exalted and endowed than any noble in my realm.”
The soft eye of Florinda kindled at these words. “Señor,” said she,
“the line I spring from can receive no dignity by means so vile;
and my father would rather die than purchase rank and power by
the dishonor of his child. But I see,” continued she, “that your
majesty speaks in this manner only to try me. You may have thought
me light and simple, and unworthy to attend upon the queen. I pray
your majesty to pardon me, that I have taken your pleasantry in such
serious part.”
In this way the agitated maiden sought to evade the addresses of the
monarch, but still her cheek was blanched, and her lip quivered as
she spake.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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