Yet he trusted much
None shared his wakefulness; though such
Indeed might be! If he dared to touch
A theme so fine--the bride, perchance,
Still slept! At least, they missed her glance
To give this greeting countenance.
Be sure that the seneschal, in turn,
Was deeply bowed with the grave concern
Of the painful news his guest should learn:
"Last night, to her father's dying bed
By a priest was the lady summoned;
Nor know we yet how well she sped,
"But hope for the best." The grave Viceroy
(Though grieved his visit had such alloy)
Must still wish the seneschal great joy
Of a bride so true to her filial trust!
Yet now, as the day waxed on, they must
To horse, if they'd 'scape the noonday dust.
"Nay," said the seneschal, "at least,
To mend the news of this funeral priest,
Myself shall ride as your escort east."
The Viceroy bowed. Then turned aside
To his nearest follower: "With me ride--
You and Felipe--on either side.
"And list! Should anything me befall,
Mischance of ambush or musket-ball,
Cleave to his saddle yon seneschal!
"No more." Then gravely in accents clear
Took formal leave of his late good cheer;
Whiles the seneschal whispered a musketeer,
Carelessly stroking his pommel top:
"If from the saddle ye see me drop,
Riddle me quickly yon solemn fop!"
So these, with many a compliment,
Each on his own dark thought intent,
With grave politeness onward went,
Riding high, and in sight of all,
Viceroy, escort, and seneschal,
Under the shade of the Almandral;
Holding their secret hard and fast,
Silent and grave they ride at last
Into the dusty traveled Past.
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