"Where?" He shrugged. "To Valladolid at first, and then . . .
where God pleases."
"And when shall I see you again?"
"When . . . when God pleases."
"Oh, I am terrified . . . if I should lose you . . . if I should
never see you more!" She was panting, distraught.
"Nay, lady, nay," he answered. "I shall come for you when the
time is ripe. I shall return by All Saints, or by Christmas at
the latest, and I shall bring with me one who will avouch me."
"What need any to avouch you to me?" she protested, on a note of
fierceness. "We belong to each other, you and I. But you are free
to roam the world, and I am caged here and helpless. . ."
"Ah, but I shall free you soon, and we'll go hence together.
See." He stepped to the table. There was an ink-horn, a box of
pounce, some quills, and a sheaf of paper there. He took up a
quill, and wrote with labour, for princes are notoriously poor
scholars:
"I, Don Sebastian, by the Grace of God King of Portugal, take to
wife the most serene Dona ulna of Austria, daughter of the most
serene Prince, Don John of Austria, by virtue of the disiensation
which I hold from two pontiffs."
And he signed it--after the manner of the Kings of Portugal in
all ages--"El Rey"--the King.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118