“Ruffian, desist!” exclaimed he, with wrath in his voice and eye, as, passing his left arm round the waist of Blanca, he waved his armed right hand before the ravisher’s face; “though thou bearest my father’s blood in thy degenerate veins, it shall dye the turf at our feet, if thou loosest not hold of this maiden.”
“Away! base-born hound--half-Spaniard, away! and dare not to thwart me in my pleasure,” cried Garcia, foaming with rage and disappointment.
Ramiro answered not, but, freeing the frighted girl by a dexterous manœuvre from the grasp of Garcia, and placing himself between them, he struck the latter with the flat side of his weapon, as if he thought him unworthy of a severer blow, though the fire of his royal blood tingled in his cheeks at the insult.
Garcia quailed before the lofty scorn of Ramiro, and he shouted to his attendants to come to his aid.
“Now, for my father’s kingdom I would not let thee escape, dastard as thou art!” said Ramiro, as he strode up to Garcia and forced him to defend himself. In a moment Ramiro was standing over his prostrate and bleeding antagonist with his sword lifted for the death-blow. As he was about to strike in self-defence, hearing the rapid step of Garcia’s assistants, he saw that they were already panic-struck at the sight of their fallen master, and were turning back in flight. Staying his hand, he said,
“Rise, Garcia--for thy father’s sake I spare thee. Thou wilt henceforth avoid the son of the Moorish Caya.” Then taking the lady Blanca, who was fainting with the effects of her terror, once again in his arms, he bore her into the house of Don Pedro, and left the vanquished ravisher in pain of body and mortification of heart.
“Tell me, lady,” said Ramiro, as he leant over the form of the reviving Blanca, “how art thou? Assure me that I leave thee well and happy.”
“Leave me not yet, noble Ramiro,” said Blanca sweetly. “How can I sufficiently repay thee for thy valiant protection?--all I can imagine would be too poor a recompense!”
“Oh, not too poor, dear Blanca,” said Ramiro passionately, “is the gift thou canst bestow: give me thy love, if one who hath the stain of Moorish lineage may hope to deserve it, and I will bless the opportunity that gave thee to my arms.”