Portugal -- History -- Joseph, 1750-1777 -- Fiction
"You would indeed be a treasure, Donna Florinda, to the happy person who
possessed you, but their majesties esteem you far too much to part with
you willingly," returned the lovely girl, laughing.
"Methinks they do, and I have no intention of quitting them. I know
when I am well off.--Now, again, my sweetest friend, adieu." Saying
which, Donna Florinda sprang up, imprinting a kiss on each cheek of the
beautiful girl, who received the salute, as a thing of course, and then
curtseying with an air intended to be very dignified, she turned to quit
the apartment.
"Run, maidens, run," exclaimed the young lady. "Run and attend Donna
Florinda to her chair. Haste all of you, and pay her proper respect."
The maids, accustomed to the imperious orders of their young mistress,
threw down their work, and followed Donna Florinda, for so their
majesties of Portugal had been pleased to call their black favourite;
and no sooner was the room cleared, than with eager hands the young lady
opened the casket which had been sent her. It contained, doubtless, the
little finger of Saint Anthony, but it contained also a small fold of
paper, which she hurriedly abstracted, placing the casket aside, as a
thing she valued not.
Agitation was visible on her countenance, as with trembling fingers she
tore open the note. "Enchanting, beautiful girl," it ran, "too often
have I gazed enraptured on those matchless charms to resist longer their
enslaving power. Though the barriers of custom and bigotry intervene to
keep us asunder, yet would I break through all obstacles to win one
smile of acquiescence to my ardent wishes from those bright eyes! and
ah! believe that this heart, which has never felt till now one pang of
love, though surrounded by the fairest, the most lovely in the land, has
at length been punished for its obduracy; nor can I experience one
moment of peace till I know that this has been accepted by her for whom
it is intended, and that she will deign to send some answer favourable
to my hopes. From one who would, were it possible, lay a crown at the
feet of the most captivating of her sex." No signature was attached to
the epistle; but, as the lady's eyes glanced hurriedly over it, her
breathing grew quick, a blush mantled on her neck and cheek, though
remaining but a moment ere a pallor succeeded, as she placed it in her
bosom, on hearing the return of her attendants along the corridor
leading to her apartment. Her principal attendant gazed at her
earnestly, with an expression of concern.
"Surely, Senhora, you are now really ill indeed; and I fear St.
Anthony's finger has been of slight benefit. Let me run and procure you
some of the restorative medicine I am ordered to take."
"No, no, there is no necessity for it," answered the young lady; "I
merely slightly pricked my finger as Donna Florinda left the room, and
the pain was acute, and made me feel faint; but it has passed away and
left no mark. I shall be well again directly."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account