Wlliam Gilmore Simms
Southward Ho! A Spell of Sunshine >> Chapter VI / Love's Last Supper; A True Story of the Troubadours >> Page 89

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Novel (Romance) | Redfield | 1854
Transcription THE JEALOUS . INQUISITION. 89
doubts and anxieties were necessarily increased by this dis-
covery, but so also was his firmness. He felt that much de-
pended upon his coolness and address, and he steeled himself,
with all his soul, to the trial which was before him. The recol-
lection of Marguerite, and of her fate and reputation depending
upon his own, was the source of no small portion of his present
resolution. His reflections were instantaneous ; there was no
unreasonable delay in his answer, which was at once manly and
circumspect.
I know not what you aim at or intend, my lord, but
by Heaven !�1 swear to you that, if it be proper for me to
answer you in that you seek, I will keep nothing from your
knowledge that you desire to know !"
Nay, Guillaume," replied the knight, I will have no con-
ditions. You shall reply honestly, and without reserve, to all
the questions I shall put to you.""Let me bear them, my lord�command me, as you have
the right," was the reply of the troubadour, and I will answer
you, with my conscience, as far as I can."
I would then know from you," responded Raymond, very
solemnly, on your faith and by your God, whether the verses
that you make are inspired by a real passion ?"
A warm flush passed over the cheeks of the troubadour ; the
pride of the artist was offended by the inquiry. That it should
be questioned whether he really felt what he so passionately
declared, was a disparaging judgment upon the merits of his
song.
Ah ! my lord," was the reply, expressed with some degree
of mortification, how could I sing as I do, unless I really felt
all the passion which I declare. In good sooth, then, I tell you,
love has the entire possession of my soul.""And verily I believe thee, Guillaume," was the subdued
answer of the baron ; I believe thee, my friend, for, unless a
real passion was at his heart, no troubadour could ever sing as
thou. But, something more of thee, Guillaume de Cabestaign.
Prithee, now, declare to me the name of the lady whom thy
verses celebrate."
Then it was that the cheek of our troubadour grew pale, and
his heart sunk within him ; but the piercing eye of the baron