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a courier, charged with a letter for Seraphina from the Count de Polán. She begged my permission to read it; and as she went on, I observed her to grow pale, and to become dreadfully agitated. When she had finished, she raised her eyes upward, heaved a long sigh, and her face was in a moment bathed with her tears. Her sorrow sat heavily on my feelings. My spirits were greatly disturbed; and, as if it were a forewarning of the blow impending over my head, a deathlike shudder crept through my frame, and my faculties were all benumbed. ‘Madam,’ said I, in accents half choked with apprehension, ‘may I ask of what dire events that letter brings the tidings?’

“ ‘Take it, sir,’ answered Seraphina most dolefully, while she held out the letter to me. ‘Read for yourself what my father has written. Alas! you are but too deeply concerned in the contents.’

“At these words, which made my blood run cold, I took the letter with a trembling hand, and found in it the following intelligence: ‘Your brother, Don Gaspard, fought yesterday at the Prado. He received a small sword wound, of which he died this day; and declared before he breathed his last that his antagonist was the son of Baron Steinbach, an officer of the German guard. As misfortunes never come alone, the murderer has eluded my vengeance by flight; but wherever he may have concealed himself, no pains shall be spared to hunt him out. I am going to write to the magistrates all round the country, who will not fail to take him into custody, if he passes through any of the towns in their jurisdiction, and by the notices I am going to circulate, I hope to cut off his retreat in the country or at the seaports. —The Count de Polán.’

“Conceive into what a ferment this letter threw all my thoughts. I remained for some moments motionless and without the power of speech. In the midst of my confusion, I too plainly saw the destructive bearing of Don Gaspard’s death on the passion I had imbibed. My despair was unbounded at the thought. I threw myself at Seraphina’s feet, and offering her my naked sword, ‘Madam,’ said I, ‘spare the Count de Polán the necessity of seeking farther for a man who might possibly withdraw himself from his resentment. Be yourself the avenger of your brother: offer up his murderer as the victim of your own hand: now, strike the blow. Let this very weapon, which terminated his life, cut short the sad remnant of his adversary’s days.’

“ ‘Sir,’ answered Seraphina, a little softened by my behavior, ‘I loved Don Gaspard, so that though you killed him in fair and manly hostility, and though he brought his death upon himself, you may rest assured that I take up my father’s quarrel. Yes, Don Alphonso, I am your decided enemy, and will do against you all that the ties of blood and friendship require at my hands. But I will not take advantage of your evil star: in vain has it delivered you into my grasp: if honor arms me against you, the same sentiment forbids to pursue a cowardly revenge. The rights of hospitality must be inviolable, and I will not repay such service as you have rendered me with the treachery of an assassin. Fly! make your escape, if you can, from our pursuit and from the rigor of the laws, and save your forfeit life from the dangers that beset it.’

“ ‘What then, madam,’ returned I, ‘when vengeance is in your own hands, do you turn it over to the laws, which may, perhaps, be too slow for your impatience? Nay! rather stab a wretch who is not worthy of your forbearance. No, madam, maintain not so noble and so generous a proceeding with one like me. Do you know who I am? All Madrid takes me for Baron Steinbach’s son; yet am I nothing better than a foundling, whom he brought up from charity, I know not even who were guilty of my existence.’

“ ‘No matter,’ interrupted Seraphina, with precipitation, as if my last words had given her new uneasiness, ‘though you were the lowest of mankind I would do what honor bids.’

“ ‘Well, madam,’ said I, ‘since a brother’s death is insufficient to excite your thirst after my blood, I will exasperate your hatred still farther by a new offence, of which I trust you will never pardon the boldness. I dote on you: I could not behold your charms without being dazzled by them: and, in spite of the cloud in which my destiny was enveloped, I had cherished the hope of being united to you. I was so infatuated by my passion, or rather by my pride, as to flatter myself that heaven, which perhaps conceals from me my birth in mercy, might discover it one day, and enable me without a blush to acquaint you with my real name. After this injurious avowal, can you hesitate a moment about punishing me?’

“ ‘This rash declaration,’ replied the lady, ‘would doubtless prove offensive at any other season; but I forgive it in consideration of the trouble which bewilders you. Besides, my own condition so engrosses me, as to render me deaf to any strange ideas that may escape you. Once more, Don Alphonso,’ added she, shedding tears, ‘begone far from a house which you have cast into mourning; every moment of your longer stay adds pungency to my distress.’

“ ‘I no longer oppose your will, madam,’ returned I, preparing to take my leave: ‘absence from you must then be my portion: but do not suppose that, anxious for the preservation of a life which is become hateful to you, I go to seek an asylum where I may be sheltered from your search. No, no; I bare my breast to your resentment. I shall wait with impatience at Toledo for the fate which you design me; and by surrendering at once to my pursuers, shall

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