"Never will I leave you," cried he, "till you consent to quit these enemies of your honour and of your soul!"
"Release me, on the peril of your life!" returned his father, with a desperation equal to his own; but with a something added to it, that made Martini draw a few steps nearer to the defenceless Marquis.--Ripperda's fingers wandered over the hilt of a poniard that was in his girdle.--
"Could my blood expiate the offence of Spain, and not pollute my father's hand," cried Louis, "I would say, take the life you gave.--Oh, at any sacrifice, but that of soul and spirit, leave this accursed land!--If your freedom be pledged to these barbarians, give them my youth and vigour in exchange.--Let _them_ drink my blood.--Let them, cover me with insults and oppression!--Only, do you fly;--fly, my father, and save me from veiling my eyes in the dreadful day of Judgement!"
Ripperda did not answer; for his possessed mind heard not what was said.--He continued gazing on his son, with a terrible fixture of eye, while he only appeared to listen; and in the moment the sounds ceased, he burst into a tremendous laugh; and attempted, by a force, almost preternatural to break from his clinging arms. But the filial heart was stronger than the madness of revenge. Louis grasped his knees, exclaiming, in the agony of his spirit--"Oh, God, be my advocate!"
At that moment a clenched hand fell on his forehead with the weight of death. Louis felt no more, for the blow was in his soul. His nerveless fingers relaxed their hold;--he fell prostrate;--and Ripperda rushed from the apartment.
When Louis awoke to recollection, he found himself lying on a mat, on a stone floor, and in a dark apartment. A strange mingling of heavy sounds murmured in his ear, as, with a confused sense of suffering and of misery, he strove to recall past events. Such shades are of speedy conjuration. Where he was, he could not guess; but he soon remembered where he last knew consciousness: he too well remembered the last scene which had met his eyes. Almost believing himself in some Moorish dungeon, he turned his languid frame, in the resignation of utter hopelessness. His hand touched a human face. He raised himself on his arm, and found some one extended on the bare ground, near him, and, by the hard breathing, in a profound sleep.