Did ever
one hear of so saucy a hawk? Why, the very bird in the cage is not
safe!"
The vigilant Fredegonda was one of the most wary of ancient
spinsters. She had a becoming terror and distrust of what she
denominated "the opposite sex," which had gradually increased
through a long life of celibacy. Not that the good lady had ever
suffered from their wiles, nature having set up a safeguard in her
face that forbade all trespass upon her premises; but ladies who
have least cause to fear for themselves are most ready to keep a watch
over their more tempting neighbors.
The niece was the orphan of an officer who had fallen in the wars.
She had been educated in a convent, and had recently been
transferred from her sacred asylum to the immediate guardianship of
her aunt, under whose overshadowing care she vegetated in obscurity,
like an opening rose blooming beneath a brier. Nor indeed is this
comparison entirely accidental; for, to tell the truth, her fresh
and dawning beauty had caught the public eye, even in her seclusion,
and, with that poetical turn common to the people of Andalusia, the
peasantry of the neighborhood had given her the appellation of "the
Rose of the Alhambra."
The wary aunt continued to keep a faithful watch over her tempting
little niece as long as the court continued at Granada, and
flattered herself that her vigilance had been successful. It is
true, the good lady was now and then discomposed by the tinkling of
guitars and chanting of love ditties from the moonlit groves beneath
the tower; but she would exhort her niece to shut her ears against
such idle minstrelsy, assuring her that it was one of the arts of
the opposite sex, by which simple maids were often lured to their
undoing.
Pages:
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343