all inflamed by the glowing descriptions of Dona Sancha's beauty, and at the same time fully aware of the political advantage which might follow from this alliance with the powerful house of Navarre, was only too eager to go on the moment, as the cunning Dona Teresa had supposed; and he set out at once, leaving Oviedo amidst the sound of martial music, with banners flying, and the populace cheering lustily and in all good faith, for they loved this doughty hero. Dona Teresa had kept her word, in that she had sent on her messengers ahead to announce his coming, but the reception that she was preparing for him was far different from the one which he had imagined. King Garcia was informed by his crafty sister that Gonzalez was coming with an impudent demand for his daughter's hand, and that for the general safety he should be seized and put into one of the castle dungeons as soon as he appeared. Dona Sancha, the prospective bride of his ardent imagination, was no party to all this, for the rumors of Gonzalez's visit which had come to her ears had filled her with excitement, and she looked forward to his coming with no little fluttering of heart. King Garcia, however, was faithful to his sister's command, and the poor Count Gonzalez, taken unawares, was promptly cast into prison on his arrival. What Dona Sancha did on learning the unworthy role she had been made to play in this sad event is well told in the ballad which recounts the story, and here, as will be seen, a Norman knight is made to act as her informant. The verses are in Lockhart's admirable translation: "The Norman feasts among the guests, but at the evening tide He speaks to Garci's daughter within her bower aside: 'Now God forgive us, lady, and God His Mother dear, For on a day of sorrow we have been blithe of cheer. "'The Moors may well be joyful, but great should be our grief, For Spain has lost her guardian, Castile hath lost her chief; The Moorish host is pouring like a river o'er the land; Curse on the Christian fetters that bind Goncales's hand. "'Goncales loves thee, lady, he loved thee long ago, But little is the kindness that for his love you show; The curse that lies on Cava's head, it may be shared by thee. Arise! let love with love be paid, and set Goncales free.' "The lady answers little, but at the midst of night, When all her maids are sleeping, she hath risen and ta'en her flight; She hath tempted the alcayde with her jewels and her gold, And unto her his prisoner, that jailer false hath sold. "She took Goncales by the hand at the dawning of the day, She said 'Upon the heath you stand, before you lies the way, But if I to my father go--alas! what must I do! My father will be angry--I fain would go with you.'"