A Christian
knight, thy ancestor, won my heart, and would have borne me to his
native land and to the bosom of his church. I was a convert in my
heart, but I lacked courage equal to my faith, and lingered till too
late. For this the evil genii are permitted to have power over me, and
I remain enchanted in this tower until some pure Christian will
deign to break the magic spell. Wilt thou undertake the task?"
"I will," replied the damsel, trembling.
"Come hither then, and fear not; dip thy hand in the fountain,
sprinkle the water over me, and baptize me after the manner of thy
faith; so shall the enchantment be dispelled, and my troubled spirit
have repose."
The damsel advanced with faltering steps, dipped her hand in the
fountain, collected water in the palm, and sprinkled it over the
pale face of the phantom.
The latter smiled with ineffable benignity. She dropped her silver
lute at the feet of Jacinta, crossed her white arms upon her bosom,
and melted from sight, so that it seemed merely as if a shower of
dew-drops had fallen into the fountain.
Jacinta retired from the hall filled with awe and wonder. She
scarcely closed her eyes that night; but when she awoke at daybreak
out of a troubled slumber, the whole appeared to her like a
distempered dream. On descending into the hall, however, the truth
of the vision was established, for, beside the fountain, she beheld
the silver lute glittering in the morning sunshine.
Pages:
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348
349