The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 41, April 10, 1841Various
History
The Irish Penny Journal, Vol. 1 No. 41, April 10, 1841
Various
Ireland -- Periodicals
“He will not speak!” said Elvira; “he will not make a liar of Nature, who
is telling the truth for him in his cheeks and eyes! Look, monsters, the
tears are coming to his eyes. Oh holy drops, ye should be treasured among
saintly relics--ye shall be balm to these parched and thirsty lips!” And
here the queen bent to the earth, and _kissed_ the tear-drops on the
ground, which had fallen from Fernando’s eyes.
“Fernando, speak!” said Garcia.
In a voice broken by sobs and terror, Fernando began to say that he had
seen Don Pedro stealing by night to the queen’s chamber, when he was
interrupted by Elvira, who again clung to him with frantic earnestness.
“Thou sawest it not! Oh, say thou sawest it not! My boy, the heavy wrath
of God will fall upon thee if thou dost not unsay this fearful falsehood.
I am not cursing thee, but I would avert the curse. Thou MUST unsay it.
It is not possible mine own flesh could _all_ rebel against me. What is
it has bewitched thee, Fernando, to do what devils would leave undone?
Dost thou know what thou art doing to me? They will burn thy poor mother
in the market-place for an adulteress! Thou wilt give thy mother to die
in the torments of the damned--thy mother, that never crossed thee in thy
ways--that fed thee with the milk of her breasts--that rejoiced in thy
beauty. Oh, my God! oh, my God! have pity upon me, and soften this boy’s
heart!” said she, looking up for a moment, and then coaxingly fawning
upon Fernando, with a faint smile upon her features. She continued--“My
child! my pretty boy Fernando! wilt thou not unsay those wicked words?
Ah, let me kiss thee, and say I forgive thee, and we shall be mother and
son together for the rest of our days in some far off place out of the
ways of these people. I will love thee better than they, Fernando. They
are killing thy soul now, and they will kill thy body after, as they are
killing mine, if thou dost not hearken to me. Oh, that I might have life
and length of days, only to be away with thee where I could look into thy
blue eyes and play with thy golden curls from morning till night. Oh,
child, have mercy upon me!”
“Mother!” cried Fernando, throwing himself upon the queen’s neck,
“forgive me, and I will unsay all!”
Elvira wound her arms about the infante’s form, kissed him without saying
a word, and fainted at his feet.
“Her artifices have prevailed with the boy,” said Garcia, with
ill-dissembled rage, “but the testimony of others is not to be thus
overborne.”
“Wilt thou enter the lists against her champion, if any dare to defend
her with his sword?” said the king.
Garcia was silent.
“If thou wilt not,” said Sancho, “Elvira shall be declared innocent, and
her accusers traitors.”
“Let her champion appear, then,” replied Garcia. “What my tongue asserts,
my sword shall ever prove. There lies my guage,” and he threw his glove
into the centre of the floor.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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