the heart of Roderick was inflamed with a fatal passion. He
gazed on the beautiful Florinda with fervid desire, and sought to read in
her looks whether there was levity or wantonness in her bosom; but the eye
of the damsel ever sunk beneath his gaze, and remained bent on the earth
in virgin modesty.

It was in vain he called to mind the sacred trust reposed in him by Count
Julian, and the promise he had given to watch over his daughter with
paternal care; his heart was vitiated by sensual indulgence, and the
consciousness of power had rendered him selfish in his gratifications.

Being one evening in the garden where the queen was diverting herself with
her damsels, and coming to the fountain where he had beheld the innocent
maidens at their sport, he could no longer restrain the passion that raged
within his breast. Seating himself beside the fountain, he called Florinda
to him to draw forth a thorn which had pierced his hand. The maiden knelt
at his feet to examine his hand, and the touch of her slender fingers
thrilled through his veins. As she knelt, too, her amber locks fell in
rich ringlets about her beautiful head, her innocent bosom palpitated
beneath the crimson boddice, and her timid blushes increased the
effulgence of her charms.

Having examined the monarch's hand in vain, she looked up in his face with
artless perplexity.

'Senior,' said she, 'I can find no thorn, nor any sign of wound.'

Don Roderick grasped her hand and pressed it to his heart. 'It is here,
lovely Florinda!' said he, 'It is here! and thou alone canst pluck it
forth!'

'My lord!' exclaimed the blushing and astonished maiden.

'Florinda!' said Don Roderick, 'dost thou love me?'

'Senior,' said she, 'my father taught me to love and reverence you. He
confided me to your care as one who would be as a parent to me, when he
should be far distant, serving your majesty with life and loyalty. May God
incline your majesty ever to protect me as a father.' So saying, the
maiden dropped her eyes to the ground, and continued kneeling; but her
countenance had become deadly pale, and as she knelt she trembled.

'Florinda,' said the king, 'either thou dost not or thou wilt not
understand me. I would have thee love me, not as a father, nor as a
monarch, but as one who adores thee. Why dost thou start? No one shall
know our loves; and, moreover, the love of a monarch inflicts no
degradation like the love of a common man; riches and honors attend upo