A cavalier approached, wrapped in a large Spanish cloak.
He paused under the window of the tower, and after a little while
began a serenade, accompanied by his guitar, in the usual style of
Spanish gallantry. His voice was rich and manly; he touched the
instrument with skill, and sang with amorous and impassioned
eloquence. The plume of his hat was buckled by jewels that sparkled in
the moon-beams; and as he played on the guitar, his cloak falling off
from one shoulder, showed him to be richly dressed. It was evident
that he was a person of rank.
The idea now flashed across Antonio's mind, that the affections of his
unknown beauty might be engaged. She was young, and doubtless
susceptible; and it was not in the nature of Spanish females to be
deaf and insensible to music and admiration. The surmise brought with
it a feeling of dreariness. There was a pleasant dream of several days
suddenly dispelled. He had never before experienced any thing of the
tender passion; and, as its morning dreams are always delightful, he
would fain have continued in the delusion.
"But what have I to do with her attachments?" thought he; "I have no
claim on her heart, nor even on her acquaintance. How do I know that
she is worthy of affection? Or if she is, must not so gallant a lover
as this, with his jewels, his rank, and his detestable music, have
completely captivated her? What idle humour is this that I have fallen
into? I must again to my books.
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