Pauline sighed assent; though she did know what to make of him very well, for she fancied he saw, and ridiculed her partiality for Edric. This idea roused every spark of pride in her nature; she could not bear the thought of being supposed to give her love unsought, and she determined when she next saw Roderick, to show by her coldness and indifference when Edric was mentioned, how completely he had been deceived.
When Roderick left the tent of M. de Mallet, he returned to Edric, whom he found pale and feeble.
“You are the happiest fellow in existence, Edric!” said he: “I would willingly give all my glory, and even my demoniacal renown, which the Spaniards talk so much about, to be able to call up such blushes to the cheek of beauty as your name can raise. Oh! if you had seen Pauline. By Heaven! she is the loveliest creature I ever beheld in my life!”
As he spoke, Alexis, the Greek page, who had been crouching rather than sitting at the foot of Edric’s couch, resting his head upon his hands, and looking absorbed in grief, uttered a faint cry, and rushed out of the tent.
“There is something very extraordinary about that boy,” said Roderick, looking after him.
“There is, indeed,” replied Edric, “and I have taken notice that he will often when he thinks himself unobserved, sit for hours intently gazing upon you, sighing so deeply occasionally, that it is quite painful to hear him.”
“It is very strange!” repeated Roderick musing, “I have remarked something of the same kind myself.” For some moments he remained lost in thought; but it was not in his gay and joyous nature to suffer anything to depress him long; and in the next instant, Alexis was forgotten.
The fall of Seville, and the destruction of the army sent to defend it, produced a powerful effect upon the destinies of Spain. The Cortes again sent ambassadors to negotiate with the Irish hero; but, taught by experience, he now received them haughtily, refusing to treat with them but as a conqueror; and to put his threats in execution he determined to advance immediately upon Madrid.
“We must follow up our victory,” said he to Edric, after he had somewhat contemptuously dismissed the deputies from the shattered remnant of the allied army, who came to sue humbly at his feet for peace. “These people are treacherous beyond description. They do not understand leniency, and they must be treated with sword in hand. I am thoroughly tired of them; their fickleness and uncertainty have quite disgusted me; I will therefore march to Madrid, establish Don Pedro as their sovereign, and take my leave of them forever.”
“I am rejoiced to hear it!” exclaimed Edric. “You will then return to Ireland, and devote your time to your own subjects.”
“I will try to satisfy them as well as I can; but as perfection cannot be expected all at once, you must not be surprised if someday I should fly off in a tangent, and take it into my head to colonize the moon.”
Edric laughed: “If you promise to wait till then,” said he, “I shall be satisfied.”
“You may not find my project so wild as it appears,” rejoined Roderick. “The moon is a very pretty, mild, modest-looking planet, and I must own I should like amazingly to see what kind of inhabitants she contains; and if I should determine to go there, here is a gentleman who I am sure will be quite ready to accompany me.”
Dr. Entwerfen entered the tent as he spoke. “Of what was your Majesty speaking?” asked he.
“Of a voyage to the moon,” said Roderick. “Will you go with me?”
“With all my heart,” cried the little doctor, rubbing his hands and looking all glee at the thought.
“There, I told you so!” said Roderick, laughing.
“I should have thought the many adventures you have met with had cured your passion for travelling,” rejoined Edric.
“Cured him! Given him a zest for it, you mean,” replied Roderick. “The appetite for travelling always grows with what it feeds upon; and though the doctor may boast
‘That he has fair Seville seen.
So is a traveller, I ween,’
yet I do not doubt but that he is just as eager to explore new places as ever.”
“Yes,” returned the doctor, “I certainly did see Seville.”
“Every part of it, my dear fellow, from its palaces to its dungeons,” resumed Roderick; “nay, I believe you were very near being indulged with a view of its ropes.”
The doctor did not quite relish this raillery. “I can assure your Majesty—”
“Apropos de bottes,” cried Roderick, interrupting him, “I had entirely forgotten I promised to present you to Mademoiselle de Mallet. You have not seen her since you dressed her arm, and if I had not taken care to provide a more attentive surgeon for her, I don’t know what might have been the consequence. We will go now. Will you accompany us, Edric? I am sorry to ask you to do anything so disagreeable; but I think it will be but decent to kiss hands, take leave, and all that sort of thing, before we set out for Madrid: besides, it may be as well to make some kind of provision as to what is to become of them in our absence.”
“Then you will not take them with you?” said Edric, despondingly.
“Who ever heard of such a thing?” cried Roderick. “How could I possibly ask the lovely Pauline to endure the inconveniences of travelling with a camp? and with a broken arm too! I really have not the assurance to attempt it.”
Edric sighed deeply; and his countenance assumed an expression of so much melancholy, that Roderick laughed immoderately: “I could not have believed it possible,” cried he, “that you could ever become such a sighing Strephon; the thing’s incredible!”
“The pain of my wounds,” said Edric, blushing; for even philosophers don’t like
