“I do indeed feel excessive lassitude, missis,” said the cottager, as he came in; “and I want something to eat. What have ye got? Do see, will you, for it’s dreadful hard work breaking stones; most we had today were primitive limestone, but I found a few fine specimens of quartz. The crystals were quite rhomboidal, and I stopped at least half an hour admiring them.”
“Rock crystals are often found amongst quartz,” said his wife; “so I don’t think you had any occasion to lose your time in admiring them, when, you know, you break stones by measure, and your wife and children are starving for want of bread.”
“Do not distress yourself upon that head, my good woman,” said Clara; “we have money, and our gratitude will not permit you to want anything that we can give you.”
“Thank you, thank you,” cried the woman; “it’s a pleasure to serve a generous gentleman like your honour.”
“What a charming voice you have!” said Clara, turning away to avoid the woman’s praises, and addressing herself to the milkmaid; who, having finished her task, now stepped over the stile which divided the field from the garden of the cottage, with a pail of milk upon her head, and advanced gracefully towards them in measured steps.
“I am very happy to have pleased you, Sir,” replied the girl, dropping her foot into the fourth position, as she made an elegant curtsy, and then glided gracefully on.
“Stay, stay!” cried Clara; “won’t you give us another song before you go?”
“You must excuse me, Sir,” said the girl, again gracefully curtsying; “I am exceedingly sorry to be obliged to refuse a gentleman of your appearance; but singing requires an alternate enlargement and contraction of the glottis, an elevation and depression of the larynx, and an elongation and shortening of the neck, very difficult to be performed with a pail of milk upon one’s head!”
“Set down the pail, then,” said Clara.
“Indeed I can’t, Sir; for I have not a moment to spare. I just met some gentlemen of my acquaintance on the hill, and as I expect them here every moment, I must snatch an instant or two to arrange my toilette.”
“Gentlemen of your acquaintance!” cried the mother; “what gentlemen can you have met with here, child, that know you?”
“My cousin John who went for a soldier some time since, and a party of his companions.”
“And what brings them in these parts? No good, I fear; for John was always a wild good-for-nothing lad.”
“It is no evil, I assure you, mother,” said Angelica pertly; “but you are always fancying the worst. John is become a man of consequence now, and he is at the head of a party of soldiers, searching for some state prisoners. He’ll be made a captain if he finds them: and I hope he will, with all my heart.”
“Where are they now?” asked the mother.
“In the wood,” replied the girl; “and my brother is gone to help them to search, as he’ll get a share of the reward if they find the fugitives whilst he is with them.”
“And you’d go too, if you’d any wit,” said the wife to her husband, who had now seated himself comfortably before the fire, and seemed very unwilling to be disturbed. Inspired, however, by his wife’s remonstrance he roused himself, and stretching his heavy limbs, rolled rather than walked away. Angelica had also retired, and Clara was left alone with the woman. It has already been mentioned, that presence of mind was one of Clara’s distinguishing characteristics; and, perceiving the danger of the Queen, she was aware not a moment was to be lost. The observations of the woman to her husband, and, in fact, her whole manner, showed that avarice was her master passion, and upon this hint Clara spoke. She offered her abundance of gold; she enlarged upon the greediness of the soldiers, who, if she waited for their approach, would perhaps cheat her of her share in the promised reward, or, at least, give her such a trifle as would not be worth having; and at last drew forth the glittering metal and spread it before her eyes. Gold softens the hardest heart, and the cottager’s wife could resist no longer, but promised to connive at their escape.
Clara instantly ordered Hans to prepare the horses; and, informing the prince and Elvira of what had passed, the whole party again set forward on their eventful journey.
XXXI
In the meantime, Roderick had been completely victorious in Spain. He had reached Madrid and established Don Pedro as King; and was now on his return to Seville, where he had left M. de Mallet and his charming daughter. Edric, of course, accompanied him; but the rest of the army had marched to Cadiz to embark, the Greek page only attending upon his master.
“Well, Edric!” said the King, laughing, as they approached Seville, “does not your heart beat with pleasure at the thought of quitting Spain?”
“How can you torment me so, Roderick?”
“Torment you! why I thought you would be in raptures; though I must own, if you are, they are the most melancholy raptures I ever beheld in my life.”
“This raillery is not generous. It is unworthy of you. I own I love Mademoiselle de Mallet—but I despair.”
“And why?”
“Alas! how can I ask her to share the fortunes of a banished man?”
“Am not I your friend?”
“I know it; but I cannot brook dependence even upon you.”
“I do not wish you to be dependent; but what can I do to serve you? Shall I make war upon this cross old father of yours?”
“Oh, do not speak of him so lightly! Say what you please of me, but spare my father!”
“I respect
