Diego de Susan was sure to go to the fire. His
fortune was estimated at ten million maravedis. That fortune, it
seemed, Rodrigo was given the chance to make his own by marrying
the beautiful Isabella at once, before sentence came to be passed
upon her father. The Holy Office might impose a fine, but would
not go further where the inheritance of a Castilian nobleman of
clean lineage was concerned. He was swayed between admiration of
her shrewdness and amazement at his own good fortune. Also his
vanity was immensely flattered.
He sent her three lines to protest his undying love, and his
resolve to marry her upon the morrow, and went next day in
person, as she had bidden him, to carry out the resolve.
She received him in the mansion's best room, a noble chamber
furnished with a richness such as no other house in Seville could
have boasted. She had arrayed herself for the interview with an
almost wanton cunning that should enhance her natural endowments.
Her high-waisted gown, low-cut and close-fitting in the bodice,
was of cloth of gold, edged with miniver at skirt and cuffs and
neck. On her white bosom hung a priceless carcanet of limpid
diamonds, and through the heavy tresses of her bronze-coloured
hair was coiled a string of lustrous pearls.
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