Our mother had a presentiment that events would one day serve her
wishes. It may be that the longing of a mother constitutes a pact
between herself and God. Was she not, moreover, one of those
mysterious beings who can hold converse with Heaven and bring back
thence a vision of the future? How often have I not read in the lines
of her forehead that she was coveting for Fernand the honors and the
wealth of Felipe!
When I said so to her, she would reply with tears,
laying bare the wounds of a heart, which of right was the undivided
property of both her sons, but which an irresistible passion gave to
you alone. Her spirit, therefore, will hover joyfully above your heads as you bow
them at the altar. My mother, have you not a caress for your Felipe
now that he has yielded to your favorite even the girl whom you
regretfully thrust into his arms? What I have done is pleasing to our
womankind, to the dead, and to the King; it is the will of God. Make
no difficulty then, Fernand; obey, and be silent.
P. S. Tell Urraca to be sure and call me nothing but M. Henarez.
Don't say a word about me to Marie. You must be the one living soul to
know the secrets of the last Christianized Moor, in whose veins runs
the blood of a great family, which took its rise in the desert and is
now about to die out in the person of a solitary exile. Farewell.