painful timidity, and was receiving and returning with easy grace
and natural dignity the greetings and gallantries of her guests: "she
is too pure, too precious to meet the common eye, or breathe a courtly
atmosphere."

Don Ferdinand's eye glistened. "And yet I fear her not," he rejoined:
"she is as true, as loving, as she is loved and lovely."

"I doubt it not: nay, 'tis the spotless purity of soul breathing in
that sweet face, which I would not behold tainted, by association with
those less pure. No: let her rest within the sanctuary of thy heart
and hearth, Don Ferdinand. We do not command her constant attendance
on our person, as we had intended."

Conscious of the inexpressible relief which this assurance would be to
his wife, Morales eagerly and gratefully expressed his thanks; and the
Queen passed on, rejoicing in the power of so easily conferring joy.

We may not linger on the splendor of this scene, or attempt
description of the varied and picturesque groups filling the gorgeous
suite of rooms, pausing at times to admire the decorations of the
domed chamber, or passing to and fro in the hall of mirrors, gayly
reflected from the walls and pillars. The brilliant appearance of the
extensive gardens; their sudden and dazzling illuminations as night
advanced; their curious temples, and sparkling fountains sending up
sheets of silver in the still air and darkening night, and falling in
myriads of diamonds on innumerable flowers, whose brilliant coloring,
illuminated by small lamps, concealed beneath their foliage, shone
forth like gems; the groups of Moorish slaves, still as statues in
their various attitudes; the wild, barbaric music, startling, yet
delighting all who listened, and causing many an eager warrior to
grasp his sword, longing even at such a moment to exchange that
splendid scene for the clash and stir of war--we must leave all to
the imagination of our readers, and bid them follow us to the banquet
hall, where, summoned by the sound of the gong, the numerous guests
sat down to tables, groaning beneath the profuse hospitality of their
host, and the refined magnificence of the display.

All the warrior stirred the soul of the King, as, on taking his seat
at the dais, he glanced round and beheld the glorious triumphs of his
country so strikingly portrayed. But Isabella saw but one picture,
felt but one thought; and Marie never forgot the look she fixed on the
breathing portrait of Alfonso, nor the to