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The Project Gutenberg eBook of Asmodeus; Or The Devil on Two Sticks, by Alain René Le Sage.
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<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51145 ***</div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;">
<img src="images/cover.png" width="500" alt="cover" />
</div>
<h1>ASMODEUS;</h1>
<h3>OR,</h3>
<h2>The Devil on Two Sticks.</h2>
<h2>By ALAIN RENÉ LE SAGE.</h2>
<h4>WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF THE AUTHOR,</h4>
<h4>By JULES JANIN.</h4>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 350px;">
<img src="images/ch02pic02andtitlepage.png" width="350" alt="Asmodeus and Zambullo fly over Madrid" />
</div>
<h4>Illustrated by TONY JOHANNOT.</h4>
<h4>[Translated by Joseph Thomas.]</h4>
<h5>GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS,</h5>
<h5>LONDON: BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL.</h5>
<h5>NEW YORK: 416 BROOME STREET.</h5>
<h5>1879.</h5>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h4>TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialw.png" width="75" height="78" alt="W" />
</div>
<p>When I first determined on the publication
of a new edition of "<span class="smcap">The Devil on Two
Sticks</span>," I had certainly no idea of engaging
in a new translation. I had not read an English version
since my boyhood, and naturally conceived that
the one which had passed current for upwards of a
century must possess sufficient merit to render anything
beyond a careful revision, before passing it again
through the press, unnecessary. However, on reading
a few pages, and on comparing them with the much-loved
original, I no longer wondered, as I had so
often done, why <span class="smcap">Le Diable Boiteux</span> was so little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span>
esteemed by those who had only known him in his
English dress, while Gil Blas was as great a favourite
with the British public as any of its own heroes of story.
To account for this, I will not dwell on the want of
literal fidelity in the old version, although in some
instances that is amusing enough; but the total absence
of style, and that too in the translation of a work by
one of the greatest masters of verbal melody that ever
existed, was so striking as to induce me, rashly perhaps,
to endeavour more worthily to interpret the witty and
satirical <span class="smcap">Asmodeus</span> for the benefit of those who have
not the inestimable pleasure of comprehending him in
his <i>native</i> tongue—for, as Jules Janin observes, he is a
Devil truly French.</p>
<p>In the translation which I here present, I do not
myself pretend, at all times, to have rendered the words
of the 'graceful Cupid' with strict exactness, but I have
striven to convey to my reader the ideas which those
words import. Whether I have succeeded in so doing
is for others to determine; but, if I have not, I shall at
all events have the satisfaction of failing in company,—which,
I am told, however, is only an Old Bailey sort of
feeling after all.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p>
<p>I have not thought it necessary to attempt the Life of
the Author; it will be enough to me, for fame, not to
have murdered one of his children. I have therefore
adopted the life, character, and behaviour of Le Sage
from one of the most talented of modern French writers,
and my readers will doubtless congratulate themselves
on my resolve. Neither have I deemed it needful to
enter into the controversy as to the originality of this
work, except by a note in page <a href="#Page_162">162</a>: and this I should
probably not have appended, had I, while hunting over
the early editions there referred to, observed the original
dedication of Le Sage to 'the illustrious Don Luis
Velez de Guevara,' in which are the following words:
"I have already declared, and do now again declare to
the world, that to your Diabolo Cojuelo I owe the title
and plan of this work ...; and I must further own,
that if the reader look narrowly into some passages of
this performance, he will find I have adopted several
of your thoughts. I wish from my soul he could find
more, and that the necessity I was under of accommodating
my writings to the genius of my own country
had not prevented me from copying you exactly." This
is surely enough to exonerate Le Sage from the many
charges which have been urged against him; and I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span>
quote the concluding sentence of the above, because it
is an excuse, from his own pen, for some little liberties
which I have, in my turn, thought it necessary to take
with his work in the course of my labours.</p>
<p style="margin-left: 70%; font-size: 0.8em;">JOSEPH THOMAS.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/prefacetailpiece.png" width="100" height="104" alt="dragon tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h4>TABLE OF CONTENTS.</h4>
<div class="center" style="font-size: 0.8em;">
<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="70%" summary="">
<tr><td align="left">TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_vii">vii</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF LE SAGE.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_xv">xv</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER I.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">WHAT SORT OF A DEVIL HE OF THE TWO STICKS WAS—WHEN
AND BY WHAT ACCIDENT DON CLEOPHAS LEANDRO PEREZ
ZAMBULLO FIRST GAINED THE HONOUR OF HIS ACQUAINTANCE.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER II.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">WHAT FOLLOWED THE DELIVERANCE OF ASMODEUS.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_15">15</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER III.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">WHERE THE DEVIL TRANSLATED THE STUDENT; AND THE FIRST
FRUITS OF HIS ECCLESIASTICAL ELEVATION.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_20">20</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">STORY OF THE LOVES OF THE COUNT DE
BELFLOR AND LEONORA DE CESPEDES.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_45">45</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER V.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF THE LOVES OF THE COUNT DE
BELFLOR AND LEONORA DE CESPEDES.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_77">77</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">NEW OBJECTS DISPLAYED TO DON CLEOPHAS; AND HIS REVENGE
ON DONNA THOMASA.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE PRISON, AND THE PRISONERS.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_116">116</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">OF VARIOUS PERSONS EXHIBITED TO DON CLEOPHAS BY ASMODEUS,
WHO REVEALS TO THE STUDENT WHAT EACH HAS DONE IN
HIS DAY.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_144">144</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE MADHOUSE, AND ITS INMATES.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_168">168</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER X.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE SUBJECT OF WHICH IS INEXHAUSTIBLE.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_201">201</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiii" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">OF THE FIRE, AND THE DOINGS OF ASMODEUS ON THE OCCASION,
OUT OF FRIENDSHIP FOR DON CLEOPHAS.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_218">218</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">OF THE TOMBS, OF THEIR SHADES, AND OF DEATH.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_224">224</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE FORCE OF FRIENDSHIP.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_241">241</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE TRAGIC POET AND THE COMIC
AUTHOR.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_277">277</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">CONTINUATION, AND CONCLUSION, OF THE FORCE OF FRIENDSHIP.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_289">289</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE DREAMERS.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_337">337</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">IN WHICH ORIGINALS ARE SEEN OF WHOM COPIES ARE RIFE.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_353">353</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">RELATING TO OTHER MATTERS WHICH THE DEVIL EXHIBITED
TO THE STUDENT.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_365">365</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">THE CAPTIVES.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_378">378</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xiv" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">OF THE LAST HISTORY RELATED BY ASMODEUS: HOW, WHILE
CONCLUDING IT, HE WAS SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED; AND OF
THE DISAGREEABLE MANNER, FOR THE WITTY DEMON, IN
WHICH HE AND DON CLEOPHAS WERE SEPARATED.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_394">394</a></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left"><h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3></td></tr>
<tr><td align="left">OF THE DOINGS OF DON CLEOPHAS AFTER ASMODEUS HAD LEFT
HIM; AND OF THE MODE IN WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THIS
WORK HAS THOUGHT FIT TO END IT.</td><td align="right" valign="bottom"><a href="#Page_410">410</a></td></tr>
</table></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/contentstailpiece.png" width="100" height="89" alt="tailpiece: cul-de-lampe with mask" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xv" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 276px;">
<img src="images/lesagenoticebust.png" width="276" height="213" alt="Bust of Le Sage between Asmodeus and Gil Blas" />
</div>
<h4>NOTICE OF LE SAGE.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiali.png" width="75" height="73" alt="I" />
</div>
<p>I shall at once place <span class="smcap">Le Sage</span> by the side of Molière;
he is a comic poet in all the acceptation of that great word,—<span class="smcap">Comedy</span>.
He possesses its noble instincts, its good-natured
irony, its animated dialogue, its clear and flowing
style, its satire without bitterness, he has studied profoundly the
various states of life in the heights and depths of the world. He
is perfectly acquainted with the manners of comedians and courtiers,—of
students and pretty women. Exiled from the Théâtre-Français,
of which he would have been the honour, and less fortunate
than Molière, who had comedians under his direction, and
who was the proprietor of his own theatre, Le Sage found himself
obliged more than once to bury in his breast this Comedy, from
want of a fitting stage for its exhibition, and actors to represent it.
Thus circumstanced, the author of "Turcaret" was compelled to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvi" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span>
seek a new form, under which he might throw into the world the
wit, the grace, the gaiety, the instruction which possessed him. In
writing the biography of such men, there is but one thing to do,
and that is to praise. The more humble and obscure have they
been in their existence, the greater is the duty of him who tells the
story of their lives, to heap upon them eulogy and honour. This
is a tardy justice, if you will, but it is a justice nevertheless; and
besides, of what importance, after all, are these vulgar events? All
these biographies are alike. A little more of poverty, a little less
of misery, a youth expended in energy, a manhood serious and
filled with occupation, an old age respected, honourable; and, at
the end of all these labours, all these troubles, all these anguishes
of mind and heart, of which your great men alone have the secret,—the
Académie-Française in perspective. Then, are you possessed
of mediocre talents only? all doors are open to you;—are you a
man of genius? the door opens with difficulty;—but, are you perchance
one of those excelling spirits who appear but from century
to century? it may turn out that the Académie-Française will not
have you at any price. Thus did it with the great Molière; thus
also has it done for Le Sage; which, by-the-bye, is a great honour
for the illustrious author of "Gil Blas."</p>
<p>René Le Sage was born in the Morbihan, on the 8th of May,
1668:<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> and in that year Racine produced "Les Plaideurs," and
Molière was playing his "Avare." The father of Le Sage was a man
slightly lettered,—as much so as could be expected of an honourable
provincial attorney, one who lived from day to day like a lord,
without troubling himself too much as to the future fortunes of his
only son. The father died when the child was only fourteen years
of age; and soon afterwards the youthful René lost his mother.
He was now alone, under the guardianship of an uncle, and he was
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xvii" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span>fortunate enough to be placed under the tutelage of those learned
masters of the youth of the seventeenth century, the Jesuits who
subsequently became the instructors of Voltaire, as they have been
of all France of the great age. Thanks to this talented and paternal
teaching, our young orphan quickly penetrated into the learned
and poetical mysteries of that classic antiquity, which is yet in our
days, and will be to the end of time, the exhaustless source of taste,
of style, of reason, and of good sense. It is to praise Le Sage to
say that he was educated with as much care and assiduity as
Molière and Racine, as La Fontaine and Voltaire; they one and
all prepared themselves, by severest study, and by respect for
their masters, to become masters in their turn; and they have
themselves become classic writers, because they reverenced their
classic models,—which may, in case of need, serve as an example
for the beaux-esprits of our own time.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> According to Moreri, in his "Grand Dictionnaire Historique," (folio, Paris,
1759,) and he cites as his authority M. Titon de Tillet's second supplement to
the "Parnasse Français," Le Sage was born at Ruis in Brittany, in 1677.
There is, however, every reason to believe that M. Jules Janin is correct, both
as to the year and the place of his birth, notwithstanding that Mr. Chalmers, in
his "Biographical Dictionary," while he assigns to the former the year 1668,
places the latter at Vannes, as does also the "Biographie Universelle," which
he appears to have followed.</p></div>
<p>But, when this preliminary education was completed, and when
he left these learned mansions, all filled with Greek and Latin, all
animated with poetic fervour, Le Sage encountered those terrible
obstacles that await invariably, as he emerges from his studies,
every young man without family, and destitute of fortune. The
poet Juvenal has well expressed it, in one of his sublimest verses:
"They with difficulty rise, whose virtues are opposed by the pinching
wants of home."</p>
<p style="margin-left: 10%;">
"Haud facile emergunt, quorum virtutibus obstat<br />
Res angusta domi."<br />
</p>
<p>But what matters poverty when one is so young,—when our hopes
are so vast, our thoughts so powerful and rich? You have nothing,
it is true; but the world itself belongs to you,—the world is your
patrimony; you are sovereign of the universe; and around you,
the twentieth year touches every thing with its golden wand.
Your clear and sparkling eye may look in the sun's bright face as
dauntless as the eagle's. It is accomplished: all the powers of
your soul are awakened, all the passions of your heart join in one
swelling choir, to chant <i>Hosanna in excelsis!</i> What matter then
that you are poor! A verse sublime, a noble thought, a well-turned
phrase, the hand of a friend, the soft smile of some bright-eyed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xviii" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span>
damsel as she flits across your path,—there is a fortune for a
week. Those who, at the commencement of every biography,
enter into all sorts of lamentation, and deplore with pathetic voice
the mournful destiny of their hero, are not in the secret of the
facile joys of poetry, of the exquisite happiness of youth,—the
simpletons! They amuse themselves in counting, one by one, the
rags that cover yonder handsome form; and they see not, through
the holes of the cloak which envelopes it, those Herculean arms,
or that athletic breast! They look with pity on that poor young
man with well-worn hat, and beneath that covering deformed
they see not those abundant, black, and tended locks, the flowing
diadem of youth! They will tell you, with heart-rending sighs,
how happy Diderot esteemed himself, when to his crust of bread
he joined the luxury of cheese, and how this poor René le Sage
drank at his repasts but pure spring water;—a lamentable matter,
truly! But Diderot, while he ate his cheese, already meditated the
shocks of his "Encyclopædia"; but this same clear fountain from
which you drink, at twenty, in the hollow of your hand, as pure,
will intoxicate more surely than will, after twenty other years,
alas! the sparkling produce of Champagne, poured out in cups of
crystal.</p>
<p>This is sufficient reason why we should not trouble ourselves
overmuch as to the early life of Le Sage; he was young and handsome,
and as he marched, his head upturned like a poet, he met
as he went along with those first loves which one always meets
when the heart is honest and devoted. A charming woman loved
him, and he let her love him to her heart's content; and, without
concerning himself as to his good fortune, more than would master
Gil Blas have done on a similar occasion, these first amours of
our poet lasted just as long as such sort of amours ought to last—long
enough that they should leave no subject for regret, not
enough that they should evoke hatred. When, therefore, they
had loved each other as much as they could, she and he, they
separated, still to please themselves; she found a husband of riper
age and better off than her lover; he took a wife more beauteous
and less wealthy than his mistress. And blessings on the amiable
and devoted girl who consented, with a joyous heart, to encounter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xix" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span>
all the risks, all the vexations, and also to expose herself to the
seducing pleasures of a poetic life! Thus Le Sage entered, almost
without thinking of it, into that laborious life in which one must
daily expend the rarest and most charming treasures of his mind
and soul. As a commencement, he made a translation of the
Letters of Calisthenes, without imagining that he was himself
possessed of more wit than all the Greeks of the fourth century.
The work had no success, and it ought not to have had. He who
has the genius of Le Sage must create original works, or not
meddle in the craft. To translate is a trade of manual skill—to
imitate, is one of plagiary. However, the failure of this first book
rendered Le Sage less proud and haughty; and he accepted, what
he would never have done had he at once succeeded, a pension
from M. l'Abbé de Lyonne. This pension amounted to six hundred
francs; and thereupon the biographers of our author are in extacies
at the generosity of the Abbé de Lyonne.</p>
<p>Six hundred francs! and when we reflect that had Le Sage lived
in our day, depending only on his Théâtre de la Foire, he would
have gained thirty thousand francs a year! In our days, a
romance like "Gil Blas" would not be worth less than five hundred
thousand francs; "Le Diable Boiteux" would have brought him a
hundred thousand, at least: still, we must not be angry with M.
l'Abbé de Lyonne, for having bestowed a pension of six hundred
on the author of "Gil Blas." The abbé did more; he opened to
Le Sage an admirable treasure of wit, of imagination, and of
poetry; he taught him the Spanish tongue, that lovely and noble
instructress of the great Corneille; and it is doubtless no slight
honour for the language of Cervantes to have given birth in our
land to "The Cid" and to "Gil Blas." You may imagine with what
delight Le Sage accepted this instruction, and how perfectly at
home he found himself in those elegant and gracious manners;
with what good will he studied that smiling gallantry, that loyal
jealousy; those duennas in appearance so austere, in reality so
accessible; those lovely women, their feet ensatined, their head in
the mantilla; those charming mansions, all carved without, and
within all silence; those exciting windows, lighted by smiles above,
while concerts murmur at their feet! You may imagine if he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xx" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span>
adopted those lively and coquetish waiting-women, those ingenious
and rascally valets, those enormous mantles so favourable to love,
those ancient bowers so friendly to its modest blisses! Thus,
when he had discovered this new world of poesy, of which he was
about to be the Pizarro and the Fernando Cortes, and of which
Corneille had been the Christopher Columbus, René le Sage
clapped his hands for joy. In his noble pride, he stamped his
feet on this enchanted land; he began to read, you may fancy with
what delight, that admirable epic, "Don Quixote," which he studied
for its grace, its charms, its poetry, its passion; putting for the
time aside its satire, and the sarcasm concealed in this splendid
drama, as weapons for a later use, when he should attack the
financiers. Certainly, the Abbé de Lyonne never dreamt that he
was opening to the light this exhaustless mine for the man who was
to become the first comic poet of France—since Molière is one
of those geniuses apart, of whom all the nations of the earth,
all literary ages, claim alike with equal right the honour and the
glory.</p>
<p>The first fruit of this Spanish cultivation was a volume of
comedies which Le Sage published, and in which he had translated
some excellent pieces of the Spanish stage. It contained
only one from Lopez de Vega, so ingenious and so fruitful; that
was certainly too few: there was in it not one of Calderon de la
Barca; and that was as certainly not enough. In this book, which
I have read with care, in search of some of those luminous rays
which betoken the presence of the man of genius wherever he has
passed, I have met with nothing but the translator. The original
writer does not yet display himself: it is because style is a thing
which comes but slowly; it is because, in this heart of comedy more
especially, there are certain secrets of trade which no talent can
replace, and which must be learned at whatever cost. These
secrets Le Sage learned, as every thing is learned, at his own
expense. From a simple translator as he was, he became an
arranger of dramatic pieces, and in 1702 (the eighteenth century
had begun its course, but with timid steps, and none could have
predicted what it would become) Le Sage brought out at the
Théâtre Français a comedy in five acts, "Le Point d'Honneur:" it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxi" id="Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span>
was a mere imitation from the Spanish. The imitation had small
success, and Le Sage comprehended not this lesson of the public;
he understood not that something whispered to the pit, so reserved
in its applause, that there was in this translator an original poet.
To avenge himself, what did Le Sage? He fell into a greater
error still: he set to work translating—will you believe it?—the
continuation of "Don Quixote," as if "Don Quixote" could have a
continuation; as if there were a person in the world, even Cervantes
himself, who had the right to add a chapter to this famous history!
Verily, it is strange, indeed, that with his taste so pure, his judgment
so correct, Le Sage should have ever thought of this unhappy
<i>continuation</i>. This time, therefore, again his new attempt had no
success; the Parisian public, which, whatever may be said to the
contrary, is a great judge, was more just for the veritable Quixote
than Le Sage himself; and he had once more to begin anew.
However, he yet once more attempted this new road, which could
lead him to nothing good. He returned to the charge, still with
a Spanish comedy, "Don César Ursin," imitated from Calderon.
This piece was played for the first time at Versailles, and applauded
to the skies by the court, which deceived itself almost as often as the
town. Le Sage now thought that the battle at last was won. Vain
hope! it was again a battle lost, for, brought from Versailles to
Paris, the comedy of "Don César Ursin" was hissed off the stage
by the Parisian pit, which thus unmercifully annihilated the eulogies
of the court, and the first victory of the author. It was now full time
to yield to the force of evidence. Enlightened by these rude instructions,
Le Sage at last comprehended that it was not permitted
to him, to him less than to all others, to be a plagiarist; that
originality was one of the grand causes of success; and that to
confine himself for ever to this servile imitation of the Spanish
poets was to become a poet lost.</p>
<p>Now, therefore, behold him, determined in his turn to be an
original poet. This time he no longer copies, he invents; he
arranges his fable to his mind, and seeks no further refuge in the
phantasmagoria of Spain. With original ideas, comes to him
originality of style; and he at last lights on that wondrous and
imperishable dialogue which may be compared to the dialogue of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxii" id="Page_xxii">[Pg xxii]</a></span>
Molière, not for its ease, perhaps, but unquestionably for its grace
and elegance. He found at the same time, to his great joy, now
that he was himself—that he walked in the footsteps of nobody, he
found that the business was much more simple; this time he was
at his ease in his plot, which he disposed as it pleased him; he
breathed freely in the space which he had opened to himself;
nothing constrained his march, any more than his poetical caprice.
Well! at last then we behold him the supreme moderator of his
work, we behold him such as the pit would have him, such as we
all hoped he was.</p>
<p>This happy comedy, which is, beyond all doubt, the first work of
Le Sage, is entitled "Crispin, Rival de son Maître." When he had
finished it, Le Sage, grateful for the reception which the court had
given to "Don César Ursin," was desirous that the court should also
have the first hearing of "Crispin, Rival de son Maître." He
remembered, with great delight, that the first applauses he had
received had been echoed from Versailles! Behold him then producing
his new comedy before the court. But, alas! this time the
opinion of the court had changed: without regard for the plaudits
of Versailles, the pit of the Paris theatre had hissed "Don César
Ursin"; Versailles in its turn, and as if to take its revenge, now
hissed "Crispin, Rival de son Maître." We must allow that, for a
mind less strong, here was enough to confound a man for ever, and
to make him comprehend nothing either as to the success or the
failure of his productions. Happily, Le Sage appealed from the
public of Versailles to the pit of Paris; and as much as "Crispin,
Rival de son Maître" had been hissed at Versailles, so much was
this charming comedy applauded at Paris. On this occasion, it
was not alone to give the lie to the court, that the pit applauded;
Paris had refound, in truth, in this new piece, all the qualities of
true comedy,—the wit, the grace, the easy irony, the exhaustless
pleasantry, a noble frankness, much biting satire, and a moderate
seasoning of love.</p>
<p>As to those who would turn into accusation the hisses of Versailles,
they should recollect that more than one chef-d'oeuvre,
hissed at Paris, has been raised again by the suffrages of Versailles;—"Les
Plaideurs" of Racine, for instance, which the court restored<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiii" id="Page_xxiii">[Pg xxiii]</a></span>
to the poet with extraordinary applause, with the bursting laughter
of Louis XIV., which come deliciously to trouble the repose of
Racine, at five o'clock in the morning. Happy times, on the
contrary, when poets had, to approve them, to try them, this double
jurisdiction; when they could appeal from the censures of the
court to the praises of the town, from the hisses of Versailles to the
plaudits of Paris!</p>
<p>Now we behold René le Sage, to whom nothing opposes: he has
divined his true vocation, which is comedy; he understands what
may be made of the human race, and by what light threads are
suspended the human heart. These threads of gold, of silver, or
of brass, he holds them at this moment in his hand, and you will
see with what skill he weaves them. Already in his head, which
bears Gil Blas and his fortune, ferment the most charming recitals
of "Le Diable Boiteux." Silence! "Turcaret" is about to appear,—Turcaret,
whom Molière would not have forgotten if Turcaret had
lived in his day; but it was necessary to wait till France should
have escaped from the reign, so decorous, of Louis XIV., to witness
the coming, after the man of the Church, after the man of the
sword, this man without heart and without mind,—the man of
money. In a society like our own, the man of money is one of
those bastard and insolent powers which grow out of the affairs of
every day, as the mushroom grows out from the dunghill. We
know not whence comes this inert force,—we know not how it is
maintained on the surface of the world, and nothing tells how it disappears,
after having thrown its phosphorus of an instant. It is
necessary, in truth, that an epoch should be sufficiently corrupt, and
sufficiently stained with infamy, when it replaces, by money, the
sword of the warrior, by money the sentence of the judge, by money
the intelligence of the legislator, by money the sceptre of the king
himself. Once that a nation has descended so low, as to adore money
on its knees—to require neither fine arts, nor poesy, nor love, it is
debased as was the Jewish people, when it knelt before the golden
calf. Happily, of all the ephemeral powers in the world, money is
the most ephemeral; we extend to it our right hand, it is true, but we
buffet it with our left; we prostrate ourselves before it as it passes
along,—yes; but when it has passed, we kick it with our foot!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxiv" id="Page_xxiv">[Pg xxiv]</a></span>
This is what Le Sage marvellously comprehended, like a great
comic poet as he was. He found the absurd and frightful side of
those gilded men who divide our finances, menials enriched overnight,
who, more than once, by a perfectly natural mistake, have
mounted behind their own coaches. And such is Turcaret. The
poet has loaded him with vices the most disgraceful, with follies
the most dishonouring; he tears from this heart, debased by
money, every natural affection; and nevertheless, even in this
fearful picture, Le Sage has confined himself within the limits of
comedy, and not once in this admirable production does contempt
or indignation take the place of laughter. It was then with good
cause that the whole race of financiers, as soon as they had heard
of Turcaret, caballed against this chef-d'oeuvre; the cry resounded
in all the rich saloons of Paris; it was echoed from the usurers who
lent their money to the nobles, and re-echoed by the nobles who
condescended to borrow from the usurers; it was a general hue
and cry.</p>
<p>"Le Tartufe" of Molière never met with greater opposition among
the devotees than "Turcaret" experienced from financiers; and, to
make use of the expression of Beaumarchais in reference to "Figaro,"
it required as much mind for Le Sage to cause his comedy to be
played as it did to write it. But on this occasion, again, the public,
which is the all-powerful manager in these matters, was more potent
than intrigue; Monseigneur le Grand Dauphin, that Prince so illustrious
by his piety and virtue, protected the comedy of Le Sage, as
his ancestor, Louis XIV., had protected that of Molière. On this,
the financiers, perceiving that all was lost as far as intrigue was concerned,
had recourse to money, which is the last reason of this description
of upstarts, as cannon is the <i>ultima ratio</i> of kings. This
time again the attack availed not: the great poet refused a fortune
that his comedy might be played, and unquestionably he made a
good bargain by his resolve, preferable a hundred thousand times to
all the fortunes which have been made and lost in the Rue Quincampoix.<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a>
The success of "Turcaret" (1709) was immense; the Parisian
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxv" id="Page_xxv">[Pg xxv]</a></span>enjoyed with rare delight the spectacle of these grasping money-hunters
devoted to the most cruel ridicule. What if Le Sage had
deferred the production of this masterpiece! These men would have
disappeared, to make room for others of the kind, and they would
have carried with them into oblivion the comedy they had paid for.
It would have been a <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> lost to us for ever; and never,
that we know of, would the good men on 'Change have dealt us a
more fatal blow.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> In this street, in 1716, the famous projector Law established his bank; and
the rage for speculation which followed, made it for a time the Bourse of Paris.
A hump-backed man made a large fortune by lending himself as a desk, whereon
the speculators might sign their contracts, or the transfer of shares. The Rue
Quincampoix is still a leading street for business, but its trade is now confined
to more honest wares, such as drugs and grocery.</p></div>
<p>Who would credit it, however? After this superb production,
which should have rendered him the master of French comedy, Le
Sage was soon compelled to abandon that ungrateful theatre which
understood him not. He renounced,—he, the author of "Turcaret,"—pure
comedy, to write, as a pastime, farces, little one-act pieces
mingled with couplets, which made the life of the Théâtre de la
Foire Saint Laurent, and of the Théâtre de la Foire Saint Germain.
Unfortunate example for Le Sage to set, in expending, without
thought, all his talent, from day to day, without pity for himself,
without profit for anyone. What! the author of "Turcaret" to
fill exactly the same office as M. Scribe; to waste his time, his style,
and his genius upon that trifling comedy which a breath can hurry
away! And the French comedians were all unmoved, and hastened
not to throw themselves at the feet of Le Sage, to pray, to supplicate
him to take under his all-powerful protection that theatre elevated
by the genius and by the toils of Molière! But these senseless
comedians were unable to foresee anything.</p>
<p>Nevertheless, if he had renounced the Théâtre Français, Le Sage
had not abandoned true comedy. All the comedies which thronged
his brain, he heaped them up in that grand work which is called
"Gil Blas," and which includes within itself alone the history of the
human heart. What can be said of "Gil Blas" which has not already
been written? How can I sufficiently eulogise the only book truly
gay in the French language? The man who wrote "Gil Blas" has
placed himself in the first rank among all the authors of this world;
he has made himself, by the magic of his pen, the cousin-german<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvi" id="Page_xxvi">[Pg xxvi]</a></span>
of Rabelais and Montaigne, the grandfather of Voltaire, the brother
of Cervantes, and the younger brother of Molière; he takes his
place, in plenitude of right, in the family of comic poets, who have
themselves been philosophers. In the same vein, he has further
composed the "Bachelier de Salamanque," which would be a charming
book if "Gil Blas" existed not, if above all, before writing his
"Gil Blas," he had not written this charming book, "<span class="smcap">Le Diable
Boiteux</span>."</p>
<p>And now, <i>sauve qui peut!</i> the Devil is let loose upon the town,
a devil truly French, who has the wit, the grace, and the vivacity of
Gil Blas. Beware! Look to yourselves, you the ridiculous and
the vicious, who have escaped the high comedy of the stage, for, by
the virtue of this all-potent wand, not alone your mansions but your
very souls shall in a twinkling change to glass. Beware! I say;
for Asmodeus, the terrible scoffer, is about to plunge his pitiless
eye into those mysterious places which you deemed so impenetrable,
and to each of you he will reveal his secret history; he will strike
you without mercy with that ivory crutch which opens all doors and
all hearts; he will proclaim aloud your follies and your vices.
None shall escape from that vigilant observer, who, astride upon
his crutch, glides upon the roofs of the best secured houses, and
divines their ambitions, their jealousies, their inquietudes, and,
above all, their midnight wakefulness. Considered with relation to
its wit without bitterness, its satire which laughs at everything, and
with regard to its style, which is admirable, "Le Diable Boiteux" is
perhaps the book most perfectly French in our language; it is
perhaps the only book that Molière would have put his name to
after "Gil Blas."</p>
<p>Such was this life, all filled with most delightful labour, as also
with the most serious toil; thus did this man, who was born a
great author, and who has raised to perfection the talent of writing,
go on from chef-d'oeuvre to chef-d'oeuvre without pause. The
number of his productions is not exactly known; at sixty-five years
of age, he yet wrote a volume of <i>mélanges</i>, and he died without
imagining to himself the glories which were reserved for his name.
An amiable and light-hearted philosopher, he was to the end full
of wit and good sense; an agreeable gossiper, a faithful friend, an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxvii" id="Page_xxvii">[Pg xxvii]</a></span>
indulgent father, he retired to the little town of Boulogne-sur-Mer,
where he became without ceremony a good citizen, whom everybody
shook by the hand without any great suspicion that he was a
man of genius. Of three sons who had been born to him, two
became comedians, to the great sorrow of their noble father, who
had preserved for the players, as is plainly perceptible in "Gil Blas,"
a well-merited dislike. However, Le Sage pardoned his two
children, and he even frequently went to applaud the elder, who
had taken the name of Monmenil; and when Monmenil died, before
his father, Le Sage wept for him, and never from that time (1743)
entered a theatre. His third son, the brother of these two comedians,
was a good canon of Boulogne-sur-Mer; and it was to his
house that Le Sage retired with his wife and his daughter, deserving
objects of his affection, and who made all the happiness of his
latest days.</p>
<p>One of the most affable gentlemen of that time, who would have
been remarkable by his talents, even though he had not been
distinguished by his nobility, M. le Comte de Tressan, governor of
Boulogne-sur-Mer, was in the habit of seeing the worthy old man
during the last year of his life; and upon that fine face, shaded
with thick white hairs, he could still discern that love and genius
had been there. Le Sage rose early, and his first steps took him
to seek the sun. By degrees, as the luminous rays fell upon him,
thought returned to his forehead, motion to his heart, gesture to
his hand, and his eyes were lighted with their wonted fire: as the
sun mounted in the skies, this awakened intelligence appeared, on
its side, more brilliant and more clear; so much so, that you
beheld again before you the author of "Gil Blas." But, alas! all
this animation drooped in proportion as the sun declined; and,
when night was come, you had before your eyes but a good old
man, whose steps must be tended to his dwelling.</p>
<p>Thus died he, one day in summer. The sun had shown itself in
heaven's topmost height on that bright day; and it had not quite
left the earth when Le Sage called the members of his family
around to bless them. He was little less than ninety when he
died (1747).</p>
<p>To give you an idea of the popularity that this man enjoyed even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_xxviii" id="Page_xxviii">[Pg xxviii]</a></span>
during his life-time, I will finish with this anecdote: When the
"Diable Boiteux" appeared, in 1707, the success of this admirable
and ingenious satire upon human life was so great, the public
esteemed the lively epigrams it contains so delightful, that the
publisher was obliged to print two editions in one week. On the
last day of this week, two gentlemen, their swords by their sides,
as was then the custom, entered the bookseller's shop to buy the
new romance. A single copy remained to sell: one of these
gentlemen would have it, the other also claimed it; what was to
be done? Why, in a moment, there were our two infuriate readers
with their swords drawn, and fighting for the first blood, and the
last "Diable Boiteux."</p>
<p>But what, I pray you, had they done, were it a question then of
the "<span class="smcap">Diable Boiteux</span>" illustrated by <span class="smcap">Tony Johannot</span>?</p>
<p style="margin-left: 70%; font-size: 0.8em;">JULES JANIN.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="tailpiece: foliate cul-de-lampe" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/ch01headpiece.png" width="320" height="170" alt="a street in Madrid" />
</div>
<h3>ASMODEUS;
OR, THE DEVIL ON TWO STICKS.</h3>
<hr class="tb" />
<h5><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></h5>
<h4>WHAT SORT OF A DEVIL HE OF THE TWO STICKS WAS—WHEN AND
BY WHAT ACCIDENT DON CLEOPHAS LEANDRO PEREZ ZAMBULLO
FIRST GAINED THE HONOUR OF HIS ACQUAINTANCE.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiala.png" width="75" height="76" alt="A" />
</div>
<p>A night in the month of October covered with
its thick darkness the famous city of Madrid.
Already the inhabitants, retired to their homes,
had left the streets free for lovers who desired
to sing their woes or their delights beneath the balconies of
their mistresses; already had the tinkling of guitars aroused
the care of fathers, or alarmed the jealousy of husbands; in
short, it was near midnight, when Don Cleophas Leandro
Perez Zambullo, a student of Alcala, suddenly emerged, by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>
the skylight, from a house into which the incautious son of
the Cytherean goddess had induced him to enter. He sought
to preserve his life and his honour, by endeavouring to escape
from three or four hired assassins, who followed him closely,
for the purpose of either killing him or compelling him to wed
a lady with whom they had just surprised him.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic01.png" width="262" height="162" alt="Zambullo fleeing from the hired assassins" />
</div>
<p>Against such fearful odds he had for some time valiantly
defended himself; and had only flown, at last, on losing his
sword in the combat. The bravos followed him for some time
over the roofs of the neighbouring houses; but, favoured by
the darkness, he evaded their pursuit; and perceiving at
some distance a light, which Love or Fortune had placed
there to guide him through this perilous adventure, he
hastened towards it with all his remaining strength. After
having more than once endangered his neck, he at length
reached a garret, whence the welcome rays proceeded, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>
without ceremony entered by the window; as much transported
with joy as the pilot who safely steers his vessel into
port when menaced with the horrors of shipwreck.</p>
<p>He looked cautiously around him; and, somewhat surprised
to find nobody in the apartment, which was rather a singular
domicile, he began to scrutinize it with much attention. A
brass lamp was hanging from the ceiling; books and papers
were heaped in confusion on the table; a globe and mariner's
compass occupied one side of the room, and on the other were
ranged phials and quadrants; all which made him conclude
that he had found his way into the haunt of some astrologer,
who, if he did not live there, was in the habit of resorting to
this hole to make his observations.</p>
<p>He was reflecting on the dangers he had by good fortune
escaped, and was considering whether he should remain
where he was until the morning, or what other course he
should pursue, when he heard a deep sigh very near him.
He at first imagined it was a mere phantasy of his agitated
mind, an illusion of the night; so, without troubling himself
about the matter, he was in a moment again busied with his
reflections.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic02.png" width="248" height="285" alt="Lucifer, the mountebank's devil" />
</div>
<p>But having distinctly heard a second sigh, he no longer
doubted its reality; and, although he saw no one in the room,
he nevertheless called out,—"Who the devil is sighing here?"
"It is I, Signor Student," immediately answered a voice, in
which there was something rather extraordinary; "I have
been for the last six months enclosed in one of these phials.
In this house lodges a learned astrologer, who is also a
magician: he it is who, by the power of his art, keeps me confined
in this narrow prison." "You are then a spirit?" said
Don Cleophas, somewhat perplexed by this new adventure.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span>
"I am a demon," replied the voice; "and you have come in
the very nick of time to free me from slavery. I languish in
idleness; for of all the devils in hell, I am the most active and
indefatigable."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic03.png" width="262" height="262" alt="Uriel, patron of tradesmen" />
</div>
<p>These words somewhat alarmed Signor Zambullo; but, as
he was naturally brave, he quickly recovered himself, and said
in a resolute tone: "Signor Diabolus, tell me, I pray you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>
what rank you may hold among your brethren. Are you an
aristocrat, or a burgess?" "I am," replied the voice, "a
devil of importance, nay, the one of highest repute in this, as
in the other world." "Perchance," said Don Cleophas, "you
are the renowned Lucifer?" "Bah," replied the spirit; "why,
he is the mountebank's devil." "Are you Uriel then?" asked
the Student. "For shame!" hastily interrupted the voice;
"no, he is the patron of tradesmen; of tailors, butchers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span>
bakers, and other cheats of the middle classes." "Well,
perhaps you are Beelzebub?" said Leandro. "Are you
joking?" replied the spirit; "he is the demon of duennas and
footmen." "That astonishes me," said Zambullo; "I thought
Beelzebub one of the greatest persons at your court." "He
is one of the meanest of its subjects," answered the Demon;
"I see you have no very clear notions of our hell."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 269px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic04.png" width="269" height="225" alt="Leviathan, Belphegor and Ashtaroth" />
</div>
<p>"There is no doubt then," said Don Cleophas, "that you
are either Leviathan, Belphegor, or Ashtaroth." "Ah! those
three now," replied the voice, "are devils of the first order,
veritable spirits of diplomacy. They animate the councils of
princes, create factions, excite insurrections, and light the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>
torches of war. They are not such peddling devils as the
others you have named." "By the bye! tell me," interrupted
the Scholar, "what post is assigned to Flagel?" "He is the
soul of special pleading, and the spirit of the bar. He composes
the rules of court, invented the law of libel, and that
for the imprisonment of insolvent debtors; in short, he
inspires pleaders, possesses barristers, and besets even the
judges.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 203px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic05.png" width="203" height="250" alt="Flagel" />
</div>
<p>"For myself, I have other occupations: I make absurd
matches; I marry greybeards with minors, masters with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span>
servants, girls with small fortunes with tender lovers who have
none. It is I who introduced into this world luxury, debauchery,
games of chance, and chemistry. I am the author
of the first cookery book, the inventor of festivals, of dancing,
music, plays, and of the newest fashions; in a word, I am
<span class="smcap">Asmodeus</span>, surnamed <span class="smcap">The Devil on Two Sticks</span>."</p>
<p>"What do I hear," cried Don Cleophas; "are you the
famed Asmodeus, of whom such honourable mention is made
by Agrippa and in the Clavicula Salamonis? Verily, you have
not told me all your amusements; you have forgotten the best
of all. I am well aware that you sometimes divert yourself by
assisting unhappy lovers: by this token, last year only, a young
friend of mine obtained, by your favour, the good graces of the
wife of a Doctor in our university, at Alcala." "That is true,"
said the spirit: "I reserved that for my last good quality. I
am the Demon of voluptuousness, or, to express it more
delicately, Cupid, the god of love; that being the name for
which I am indebted to the poets, who, I must confess, have
painted me in very flattering colours. They say I have golden
wings, a fillet bound over my eyes; that I carry a bow in my
hand, a quiver full of arrows on my shoulders, and have withal
inexpressible beauty. Of this, however, you may soon judge
for yourself, if you will but restore me to liberty."</p>
<p>"Signor Asmodeus," replied Leandro Perez, "it is, as you
know, long since I have been devoted to you: the perils I
have just escaped will prove to you how entirely. I am
rejoiced to have an opportunity of serving you; but the vessel
in which you are confined is undoubtedly enchanted, and I
should vainly strive to open, or to break it: so I do not see
clearly in what manner I can deliver you from your bondage.
I am not much used to these sorts of disenchantments; and,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>
between ourselves, if, cunning devil as you are, you know not
how to gain your freedom, what probability is there that a
poor mortal like myself can effect it?" "Mankind has this
power," answered the Demon. "The phial which encloses
me is but a mere glass bottle, easy to break. You have only
to throw it on the ground, and I shall appear before you in
human form." "In that case," said the Student, "the matter
is easier of accomplishment than I imagined. But tell me in
which of the phials you are; I see a great number of them, and
all so like one another, that there may be a devil in each, for
aught I know." "It is the fourth from the window," replied
the spirit. "There is the impress of a magical seal on its
mouth; but the bottle will break, nevertheless." "Enough,"
said Don Cleophas; "I am ready to do your bidding. There
is, however, one little difficulty which deters me: when I shall
have rendered you the service you require, how know I that I
shall not have to pay the magician, in my precious person, for
the mischief I have done?" "No harm shall befall you,"
replied the Demon: "on the contrary, I promise to content
you with the fruits of my gratitude. I will teach you all you
can desire to know; I will discover to you the shifting scenes
of this world's great stage; I will exhibit to you the follies and
the vices of mankind; in short, I will be your tutelary demon:
and, more wise than the Genius of Socrates, I undertake to
render you a greater sage than that unfortunate philosopher.
In a word, I am yours, with all my good and bad qualities;
and they shall be to you equally useful."</p>
<p>"Fine promises, doubtless," replied the Student; "but if
report speak truly, you devils are accused of not being religiously
scrupulous in the performance of your undertakings."
"Report is not always a liar," said Asmodeus, "and this is an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>
instance to the contrary. The greater part of my brethren
think no more of breaking their word than a minister of state;
but for myself, not to mention the service you are about to
render me, and which I can never sufficiently repay, I am a
slave to my engagements; and I swear by all a devil holds
sacred, that I will not deceive you. Rely on my word, and
the assurances I offer: and what must be peculiarly pleasing
to you, I engage, this night, to avenge your wrongs on Donna
Thomasa, the perfidious woman who had concealed within her
house the four scoundrels who surprised you, that she might
compel you to espouse her, and patch up her damaged
reputation."</p>
<p>The young Zambullo was especially delighted with this last
promise. To hasten its accomplishment, he seized the phial;
and, without further thought on the event, he dashed it on the
floor. It broke into a thousand pieces, inundating the apartment
with a blackish liquor: this, evaporating by degrees, was
converted into a thick vapour, which, suddenly dissipating,
revealed to the astonished sight of the Student the figure of a
man in a cloak, about two feet six inches high, and supported
by two crutches. This little monster had the legs of a goat, a
long visage, pointed chin, a dark sallow complexion, and a
very flat nose; his eyes, to all appearance very small, resembled
two burning coals; his enormous mouth was surmounted by a
pair of red mustachios, and ornamented with two lips of unequalled
ugliness.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic06.png" width="265" height="276" alt="Asmodeus revealed to Zambullo" />
</div>
<p>The head of this graceful Cupid was enveloped in a sort of
turban of red crape, relieved by a plume of cock's and peacock's
feathers. Round his neck was a collar of yellow cloth,
upon which were embroidered divers patterns of necklaces and
earrings. He wore a short white satin gown, or tunic, encircled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span>
about the middle by a large band of parchment of the
same colour, covered with talismanic characters. On the
gown, also, were painted various bodices, beautifully adapted
for the display of the fair wearers' necks; scarfs of different
patterns, worked or coloured aprons, and head-dresses of the
newest fashion;—all so extravagant, that it was impossible to
admire one more than another.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic07.png" width="220" height="296" alt="Detail of the cloak: the Spanish lady and her admirer" />
</div>
<p>But all this was nothing as compared with his cloak, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span>
foundation of which was also white satin. Its exterior presented
an infinity of figures delicately tinted in Indian ink,
and yet with so much freedom and expression that you would
have wondered who the devil could have painted it. On one
side appeared a Spanish lady covered with her mantilla, and
leering at a stranger on the promenade; and on the other a
Parisian grisette, who before her mirror was studying new airs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span>
to victimize a young abbé, at that moment opening the door.
Here, the gay Italian was singing to the guitar beneath the
balcony of his mistress; and there, the sottish German, with
vest unbuttoned, stupefied with wine, and more begrimed with
snuff than a French petit-maître, was sitting, surrounded by his
companions, at a table covered with the filthy remnants of
their debauch. In one place could be perceived a Turkish
bashaw coming from the bath, attended by all the houris of
his seraglio, each watchful for the handkerchief; and in another
an English gentleman, who was gallantly presenting to his lady-love
a pipe and a glass of porter.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 260px;">
<img src="images/ch01pic08.png" width="260" height="174" alt="The gamesters" />
</div>
<p>Besides these there were gamesters, marvellously well portrayed;
some, elated with joy, filling their hats with pieces of
gold and silver; and others, who had lost all but their honour,
and willing to stake on that, now turning their sacrilegious eyes
to heaven, and now gnawing the very cards in despair. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span>
short, there were as many curious things to be seen on this
cloak as on the admirable shield which Vulcan forged for
Achilles, at the prayer of his mother Thetis; with this difference
however,—the subjects on the buckler of the Grecian
hero had no relation to his own exploits, while those on the
mantle of Asmodeus were lively images of all that is done in
this world at his suggestion.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecestrapwork.png" width="200" height="97" alt="foliate strapwork tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER II.</h5>
<h4>WHAT FOLLOWED THE DELIVERANCE OF ASMODEUS.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialu.png" width="75" height="78" alt="U" />
</div>
<p>Upon perceiving that his appearance had not prepossessed
the student very greatly in his favour,
the Demon said to him, smiling: "Well, Signor
Don Cleophas Leandro Perez Zambullo, you
behold the charming god of love, that sovereign master of
the human heart. What think you of my air and beauty?
Confess that the poets are excellent painters." "Frankly!"
replied Don Cleophas, "I must say they have a little flattered
you. I fancy, it was not in this form that you won
the love of Psyche." "Certainly not," replied the Devil:
"I borrowed the graces of a little French marquis, to make
her dote upon me. Vice must be hidden under a pleasing
veil, or it wins not even woman. I take what shape best
pleases me; and I could have discovered myself to you under
the form of the Apollo Belvi, but that as I have nothing to
disguise from you, I preferred you should see me under a
figure more agreeable to the opinion which the world<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span>
generally entertains of me and my performances." "I am not
surprised," said Leandro, "to find you rather ugly—excuse
the phrase, I pray you; the transactions we are about to have
with each other demand a little frankness: your features
indeed almost exactly realise the idea I had formed of you.
But tell me, how happens it that you are on crutches?"</p>
<p>"Why," replied the Demon, "many years ago, I had an unfortunate
difference with Pillardoc, the spirit of gain, and the
patron of pawnbrokers. The subject of our dispute was a
stripling who came to Paris to seek his fortune. As he was
capital game, a youth of promising talents, we contested the
prize with a noble ardour. We fought in the regions of mid-air;
and Pillardoc, who excelled me in strength, cast me on
the earth after the mode in which Jupiter is related by the
poets to have tumbled Vulcan. The striking resemblance of
our mishaps gained me, from my witty comrades, the sobriquet of
the Limping Devil, or the Devil on Two Sticks, which has
stuck to me from that time to this. Nevertheless, limping as
I am, I am tolerably quick in my movements; and you shall
witness for my agility.</p>
<p>"But," added he, "a truce to idle talk; let us get out of this
confounded garret. My friend the magician will be here shortly;
as he is hard at work on rendering a handsome damsel, who
visits him nightly, immortal. If he should surprise us, I shall
be snug in a bottle in no time; and it may go hard but he
finds one to fit you also. So let us away! But first to throw
the pieces, of that which was once my prison, out of the window;
for such 'dead men' as these <i>do</i> tell tales."</p>
<p>"What if your friend does find out that you are 'missing?'"
"What!" hastily replied the Demon; "I see you have never
studied the Treatise on Compulsions. Were I hidden at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span>
extremity of the earth, or in the region where dwells the fiery
salamander; though I sought the murkiest cavern of the gnomes,
or plunged in the most unfathomable depths of the ocean, I
should vainly strive to evade the terrors of his wrath. Hell
itself would tremble at the potency of his spells. In vain
should I struggle: despite myself should I be dragged before
my master, to feel the weight of his dreaded chains."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
<img src="images/ch02pic01.png" width="262" height="286" alt="Asmodeus carried off" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p>
<p>"That being the case," said the Student, "I fear that our
intimacy will not be of long duration: this redoubtable necromancer
will doubtless soon discover your flight." "That is
more than I know," replied the Spirit; "there is no foreseeing
what may happen." "What!" cried Leandro Perez; "a demon,
and ignorant of the future!" "Exactly so," answered the Devil;
"and they are only our dupes who think otherwise. However,
there are enough of them to find good employment for diviners
and fortune-tellers, especially among your women of quality; for
those are always most eager about the future who have best
reason to be contented with the present, which and the past
are all we know or care for. I am ignorant, therefore, whether
my master will soon discover my absence; but let us hope he
will not: there are plenty of phials similar to the one in which
I was enclosed, and he may never miss that. Besides, in his
laboratory, I am something like a law-book in the library of a
financier. He never thinks of me; or if he does, he would
think he did me too great an honour if he condescended to
notice me. He is the most haughty enchanter of my acquaintance:
long as he has deprived me of my liberty, we have
never exchanged a syllable."</p>
<p>"That is extraordinary!" said Don Cleophas; "what have
you done to deserve so much hatred or scorn?" "I crossed
him in one of his projects," replied Asmodeus. "There was
a chair vacant in a certain Academy, which he had designed
for a friend of his, a professor of necromancy; but which I
had destined for a particular friend of my own. The magician
set to work with one of the most potent talismans of the Cabala;
but I knew better than that: I had placed my man in the
service of the prime minister; whose word is worth a dozen
talismans, with the Academicians, any day."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p>
<p>While the Demon was thus conversing, he was busily engaged
in collecting every fragment of the broken phial; which having
thrown out of the window, "Signor Zambullo," said he, "let
us begone! Hold fast by the end of my mantle, and fear
nothing." However perilous this appeared to Leandro Perez,
he preferred the possible danger to the certainty of the magician's
resentment; and, accordingly, he fastened himself as well as
he could to the Demon, who in an instant whisked him out of
the apartment.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
<img src="images/ch02pic02andtitlepage.png" width="248" height="174" alt="Asmodeus and Zambullo flying over Madrid" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER III.</h5>
<h4>WHERE THE DEVIL TRANSLATED THE STUDENT; AND THE FIRST
FRUITS OF HIS ECCLESIASTICAL ELEVATION.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialc.png" width="75" height="75" alt="C" />
</div>
<p>Cleophas found that Asmodeus had not vainly
boasted of his agility. They darted through the
air like an arrow from the bow, and were soon
perched on the tower of San Salvador. "Well,
Signor Leandro," said the Demon as they alighted; "what
think you now of the justice of those who, as they slowly
rumble in some antiquated vehicle, talk of a devilish bad
carriage?" "I must, hereafter, think them most unreasonable,"
politely replied Zambullo. "I dare affirm that his
majesty of Castile has never travelled so easily; and then for
speed, at your rate, one might travel round the world nor care
to stretch a leg."</p>
<p>"You are really too polite," replied the Devil; "but can you
guess now why I have brought you here? I intend to show
you all that is passing in Madrid; and as this part of the town
is as good to begin with as any, you will allow that I could not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span>
have chosen a more appropriate situation. I am about, by my
supernatural powers, to take away the roofs from the houses of
this great city; and notwithstanding the darkness of the night,
to reveal to your eyes whatever is doing within them." As he
spake, he extended his right arm, the roofs disappeared, and
the Student's astonished sight penetrated the interior of the
surrounding dwellings as plainly as if the noon-day sun shone
over them. "It was," says Luis Velez de Guevara, "like looking
into a pasty from which a set of greedy monks had just
removed the crust."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic01.png" width="266" height="227" alt="The miser counting his gold and silver" />
</div>
<p>The spectacle was, as you may suppose, sufficiently
wonderful to rivet all the Student's attention. He looked
amazedly around him, and on all sides were objects which
most intensely excited his curiosity. At length the Devil
said to him: "Signor Don Cleophas, this confusion of objects,
which you regard with an evident pleasure, is certainly
very agreeable to look upon; but I must render useful
to you what would be otherwise but a frivolous amusement.
To unlock for you the secret chambers of the human heart,
I will explain in what all these persons that you see are engaged.
All shall be open to you; I will discover the hidden
motives of their deeds, and reveal to you their unbidden
thoughts.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic02.png" width="220" height="284" alt="The miser's nephews consulting the sorceress" />
</div>
<p>"Where shall we begin? See! do you observe this house
to my right? Observe that old man, who is counting gold and
silver into heaps. He is a miserly citizen. His carriage, which
he bought for next to nothing at the sale of an alcade of the
Cortes, and which to save expense still sports the arms of its
late owner, is drawn by a pair of worthless mules, which he
feeds according to the law of the Twelve Tables, that is to say,
he gives each, daily, one pound of barley: he treats them as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span>
the Romans treated their slaves—wisely, but not too well. It
is now two years since he returned from the Indies, bringing
with him innumerable bars of gold, which he has since converted
into coin. Look at the old fool! with what satisfaction
he gloats over his riches. And now, see what is passing in an
adjoining chamber of the same house. Do you observe two
young men with an old woman?" "Yes," replied Cleophas,
"they are probably his children." "No, no!" said the Devil,
"they are his nephews, and, what is better in their opinion, his
heirs. In their anxiety for his welfare, they have invited a
sorceress to ascertain when death will take from them their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>
dear uncle, and leave to them the division of his spoil. In the
next house there are a pair of pictures worth remarking. One
is an antiquated coquette who is retiring to rest, after depositing
on her toilet, her hair, her eyebrows and her teeth; the
other is a gallant sexagenarian, who has just returned from a
love campaign. He has already closed one eye, in its case,
and placed his whiskers and peruke on the dressing table.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>
His valet is now easing him of an arm and one leg, to put him
to bed with the rest."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic03.png" width="254" height="263" alt="The valet removing the sexagenarian's wooden leg" />
</div>
<p>"If I may trust my eyes," cried Zambullo, "I see in the
next room a tall young damsel, quite a model for an artist.
What a lovely form and air!" "I see," said the Devil.
"Well! that young beauty is an elder sister of the gallant I
have just described, and is a worthy pendant to the coquette
who is under the same roof. Her figure, that you so much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
admire, is really good; but then she is indebted for it to an
ingenious mechanist, whom I patronise. Her bust and hips
are formed after my own patent; and it is only last Sunday
that she generously dropped her bustle at the door of this very
church, on the occasion of a charity sermon. Nevertheless, as
she affects the juvenile, she has two cavaliers who ardently<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>
dispute her favour;—nay, they have even come to blows on
the occasion. Madmen! two dogs fighting for a bone.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 242px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic04.png" width="242" height="304" alt="The old lady being unlaced by her maid" />
</div>
<p>"Prithee, laugh with me at an amateur concert which is performing
in a neighbouring mansion; an after-supper offering to
Apollo. They are singing cantatas. An old counsellor has
composed the air; and the words are by an alguazil, who does
the amiable after that fashion among his friends—an ass who
writes verses for his own pleasure, and for the punishment of
others. A harpsichord and clarionet form the accompaniment;
a lanky chorister, who squeaks marvellously, takes the treble,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>
and a young girl with a hoarse voice the bass." "What a
delightful party!" cried Don Cleophas. "Had they tried
expressly to get up a musical extravaganza, they could not
have succeeded better."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic05.png" width="254" height="255" alt="The amateur concert" />
</div>
<p>"Cast your eyes on that superb mansion," continued the
Demon; "and you will perceive a nobleman lying in a
splendid apartment. He has, near his couch, a casket filled
with billets-doux; in which he is luxuriating, that the sweet
nothings they contain may lull his senses gently to repose.
They ought to be dear to him, for they are from a signora he
adores; and who so well appreciates the value of her favours,
that she will soon reduce him to the necessity of soliciting the
exile of a viceroyalty, for his own support. Let us leave him
to his slumbers, to watch the stir they are making in the next
house to the left. Can you distinguish a lady in a bed with
red damask furniture? Her name is Donna Fabula. She is
of high rank, and is about to present an heir to her spouse, the
aged Don Torribio, whom you see by her side, endeavouring
to soothe the pangs of his lady until the arrival of the midwife.
Is it not delightful to witness so much tenderness? The cries
of his dear better-half pierce him to the soul: he is overwhelmed
with grief; he suffers as much as his wife. With
what care,—with what earnestness does he bend over her!"
"Really," said Leandro, "the man does appear deeply
affected; but I perceive, in the room above, a youngster
apparently a domestic, who sleeps soundly enough: he troubles
himself not for the event." "And yet it ought to interest him,"
replied Asmodeus; "for the sleeper is the first cause of his
mistress's sufferings.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic06.png" width="266" height="297" alt="Don Torribio soothing Donna Fabula" />
</div>
<p>"But see,—a little beyond," continued the Demon: "in that
low room, you may observe an old wretch who is anointing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>
himself with lard. He is about to join an assembly of wizards,
which takes place to-night between San Sebastian and Fontarabia.
I would carry you thither in a moment, as it would
amuse you; but that I fear I might be recognised by the devil
who personates the goat."</p>
<p>"That devil and you then," said the Scholar, "are not good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span>
friends?" "No, indeed! you are right," replied Asmodeus,
"he is that same Pillardoc of whom I told you. The scoundrel
would betray me, and soon inform the magician of my
flight." "You have perhaps had some other squabble with
this gentleman?" "Precisely so," said the Demon: "some
ten years ago we had a second difference about a young
Parisian who was thinking of commencing life. He wanted
to make him a banker's clerk; and I, a lady-killer. Our
comrades settled the dispute by making him a wretched monk.
This done, they reconciled us: we embraced; and from that
time have been mortal foes."</p>
<p>"But, have done with this belle assemblée," said Don Cleophas;
"I am not at all curious to witness it: let us continue
our scrutiny into what is before us. What is the meaning of
those sparks of fire which issue from yonder cellar?" "They
proceed from one of the most absurd occupations of mankind,"
replied the Devil. "The grave personage whom you behold
near the furnace is an alchymist; and the flames are gradually
consuming his rich patrimony, never to yield him what he
seeks in return. Between ourselves, the philosopher's stone is
a chimera that I myself invented to amuse the wit of man, who
ever seeks to pass those bounds which the laws of nature have
prescribed for his intelligence.</p>
<p>"The alchymist's neighbour is an honest apothecary, who you
perceive is still at his labours, with his aged wife and assistant.
You would never guess what they are about. The apothecary
is compounding a progenerative pill for an old advocate who
is to be married to-morrow; the assistant is mixing a laxative
potion; and the old lady is pounding astringent drugs in a
mortar."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic07.png" width="264" height="142" alt="The apothecary, his wife, and his assistant" />
</div>
<p>"I perceive, in the house facing the apothecary's," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
Zambullo, "a man who has just jumped out of bed, and is
hastily dressing." "Pshaw!" replied the Spirit, "he need not
hurry himself. He is a physician; and has been sent for by a
prelate who since he has retired to rest—about an hour—has
absolutely coughed two or three times.</p>
<p>"But look a little further, in a garret on the right, and try
if you cannot distinguish a man half dressed, who is walking
up and down the room, dimly lighted by a single lamp." "I
see," said the Student; "and so clearly that I would undertake
to furnish you with an inventory of his chattels,—to wit,
a truckle-bed, a three-legged stool, and a deal table; the walls
seem to be daubed all over with black paint." "That exalted
personage," said Asmodeus, "is a poet; and what appears to
you black paint, are tragic verses with which he has ornamented
his apartment, being obliged, for want of paper, to
commit his effusions to the wall." "By his agitation and
phrenzied air, I conclude he is now busily engaged on some
work of importance," said Don Cleophas. "You are not far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>
out," replied the Devil: "he only yesterday completed the last
act of an interesting tragedy, intitled The Universal Deluge.
He cannot be reproached with having violated the unity of
place, at all events, as the entire action is limited to Noah's
ark.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 219px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic08.png" width="219" height="215" alt="The poet, composing his dedication" />
</div>
<p>"I can assure you it is a first-rate drama: all the animals talk
as learnedly as professors. It of course must have a dedication,
upon which he has been labouring for the last six hours;
and he is, at this moment, turning the last period. It will be
indeed a masterpiece of adulatory composition: every social
and political virtue; every grace that can adorn; all that tends
to render man illustrious, either by his own deeds or those of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span>
his ancestors, are attributed to its object;—never was praise
more lavishly bestowed, never was incense burnt more liberally."
"For whom, then, of all the world, is so magnificent
an apotheosis intended?" "Why," replied the Demon, "the
poet himself has not yet determined that; he has put in every
thing but the name. However, he hopes to find some vain
noble who may be more liberal than those to whom he has
dedicated his former productions; although the purchasers of
imaginary virtues are becoming every day more rare. It is not
my fault that it is so; for it is a fault corrected in the wealthy
patrons of literature, and a great benefit rendered to the public,
who were certain to be deluged by trash from the Swiss of
the press, so long as books were written merely for the produce
of their dedications.</p>
<p>"Apropos of this subject," added the Demon, "I will relate
to you a curious anecdote. It is not long since an illustrious
lady accepted the honour of a dedication from a celebrated
novelist, who, by the bye, writes so much in praise of other
women, that he thinks himself at liberty to abuse the one
peculiarly his own. The lady in question was anxious to
see the address before it was printed; and not finding herself
described to her taste, she wisely undertook the task, and
gave herself all those inconvenient virtues, which the world
so much admires. She then sent it to the author, who of
course had weighty reasons for adopting it."</p>
<p>"Hollo!" cried Leandro, "surely those are robbers who are
entering that house by the balcony." "Precisely so," said Asmodeus;
"they are brigands, and the house is a banker's. Watch
them! you will be amused. See! they have opened the safe, and
are ferreting everywhere; but the banker has been before them.
He set out yesterday for Holland, and has taken with him the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>
contents of his coffers for fear of accidents. They may make
a merit of their visit, by informing his unfortunate depositors
of their loss."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 255px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic09.png" width="255" height="276" alt="The brigands opening the banker's safe" />
</div>
<p>"There is another thief," said Zambullo, "mounting by a
silken ladder into a neighbouring dwelling." "You are mistaken
there," replied the Devil; "at all events it is not gold he
seeks. He is a marquis, who would rob a young maiden of
the name, of which, however, she is not unwilling to part.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>
Never was 'stand and deliver' more graciously received: he of
course has sworn he will marry her, and she of course believes
him; for a marquis's 'promises' have unlimited credit upon
Love's Exchange."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 250px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic10.png" width="250" height="164" alt="The registrar and Griffael" />
</div>
<p>"I am curious to learn," interrupted the Student, "what that
man in a night-cap and dressing-gown is about. He is writing
very studiously, and near him is a little black figure, who
occasionally guides his hand." "He is a registrar of the civil
courts," replied the Demon; "and to oblige a guardian, is, for
a consideration, altering a decree made in favour of the ward:
the gentleman in black, who seems enjoying the sport, is
Griffael the registrars' devil." "Griffael, then," said Don
Cleophas, "is a sort of deputy to Flagel; for, as he is the
spirit of the bar, the registrars are doubtless included in his
department." "Not so," replied Asmodeus; "the registrars
have been thought deserving of their peculiar demon, and I
assure you they find him quite enough to do."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic11.png" width="265" height="267" alt="The widow, her lover , and her uncle" />
</div>
<p>"Near the registrar's house, you will perceive a young lady
on the first floor. She is a widow; and the man, whom you
see in the same room, is her uncle, who lodges in an apartment
over hers. Admire the bashfulness of the dame! She
is ashamed to put on her chemise before her aged relative; so,
modestly seeks the assistance of her lover, who is hidden in
her dressing-room.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic12.png" width="251" height="265" alt="Donoso receives the pages in his apartment" />
</div>
<p>"In the same house with the registrar lives a stout graduate,
who has been lame from his birth, but who has not his equal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>
in the world for pleasantry. Volumnius, so highly spoken of
by Cicero for his delicate yet pungent wit, was a fool to him.
He is known throughout Madrid as 'the bachelor Donoso,'
or 'the facetious graduate;' and his company is sought by old
and young, at the court and in the town: in short, wherever
there is, or should be, conviviality, he is so much the rage,
that he has discharged his cook, as he never dines at home; to
which he seldom returns until long after midnight. He is at
present with the marquis of Alcazinas, who is indebted for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>
this visit to chance only." "How, to chance?" interrupted
Leandro. "Why," replied the Demon, "this morning, about
noon, the graduate's door was besieged by at least half-a-dozen
carriages, each sent for the especial honour of securing his
society. The bachelor received the assembled pages in his
apartment, and, displaying a pack of cards, thus addressed
them:—'My friends, as it is impossible for me to dine in six
places at one time, and as it would not appear polite to show
an undue preference, these cards shall decide the matter.
Draw! I will dine with the king of clubs.'"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic13.png" width="180" height="201" alt="The cavalier serenades his inamorata" />
</div>
<p>"What object," said Don Cleophas, "has yonder cavalier,
who is sitting at a door on the other side of the street? Is he
waiting for some pretty waiting-woman to usher him to his lady's
chamber?" "No, no," answered Asmodeus; "he is a young<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span>
Castilian, whose modesty exceeds his love; so, after the
fashion of the gallants of antiquity, he has come to pass the
night at his mistress's portal. Listen to the twang of that
wretched guitar, with which he accompanies his tender
strains! On the second floor you may behold his inamorata:
she is weeping as she hears him;—but it is for the absence
of his rival.</p>
<p>"You observe that new building, which is divided into two
wings. One is occupied by the proprietor, the old gentleman
whom you see now pacing the apartment, now throwing himself
into an easy chair." "He is evidently immersed in some
grand project," said Zambullo: "who is he? If one may
judge by the splendour which is displayed in his mansion, he is
a grandee of the first order." "Nevertheless," said Asmodeus,
"he is but an ancient clerk of the treasury, who has grown
old in such lucrative employment as to enable him to amass
four millions of reals. As he has some compunctions of
conscience for the means by which all this wealth has been
acquired, and as he expects shortly to be called upon to
render his account in another world, where bribery is impracticable,
he is about to compound for his sins in this,
by building a monastery; which done, he flatters himself
that peace will revisit his heart. He has already obtained
the necessary permission; but, as he has resolved that the
establishment shall consist of monks who are extremely chaste,
sober, and of the most Christian humility, he is much embarrassed
in the selection. He need not build a very extensive
convent.</p>
<p>"The other wing is inhabited by a fair lady, who has just
retired to rest after the luxury of a milk bath. This voluptuary
is widow of a knight of the order of Saint James, who left<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>
her at his death her title only; but fortunately her charms have
secured for her valuable friends in the persons of two members
of the council of Castile, who generously divide her favours and
the expenses of her household."</p>
<p>"Hark!" cried the Student; "surely I hear the cries of
distress. What dreadful misfortune has occurred?" "A very
common one," said the Demon: "two young cavaliers have
been gambling in a hell (the name is a scandal on the infernal
regions), which you perceive so brilliantly illuminated.
They quarrelled upon an interesting point of the game, and
I naturally drew their swords to settle it: unluckily, they were
equally skilful with their weapons, and are both mortally
wounded. The elder is married, which is unfortunate; and
the younger an only son. The wife and father have just
come in time to receive their last sighs; and it is their
lamentations that you hear. 'Unhappy boy,' cries the fond parent
over the still breathing body of his son, 'how often have I
conjured thee to renounce this dreadful vice!—how often have I
warned thee it would one day cost thee thy life. Heaven is
my witness, that the fault is none of mine!' Men," added the
Demon, "are always selfish, even in their griefs. Meanwhile
the wife is in despair. Although her husband has dissipated
the fortune she brought him on their marriage; although he
has sold, to maintain his shameful excesses, her jewels, and
even her clothes, not a word of reproach escapes her lips. She
is inconsolable for her loss. Her grief is vented in frantic
exclamations, mixed with curses on the cards, and the devil
who invented them; on the place in which her husband fell,
and on the people who surround her, and to whom she fondly
attributes his ruin."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic14.png" width="267" height="292" alt="The expiring duellists" />
</div>
<p>"How much to be lamented," interrupted the Student, "is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>
the love of gaming which possesses so large a portion of mankind;
in what an awful state of excitement does it plunge its
victims. Heaven be praised! I am not included in their
legion." "You are in high feather," replied the Demon, "in
another, whose exploits are not much more ennobling, and
scarcely less dangerous. Is the conquest of a courtezan a
glory worth achievement? Is the possession of charms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>
common to a whole city worth the peril of a life? Man is an
amusing animal! The vision of a mole would enable him to
discover the vices of his fellows, while that of the vulture could
scarce detect a folly of his own. But let us turn to another
affecting spectacle. You can discern, in the house just beyond
the one we have been contemplating, a fat old man extended
on a bed: he is a canon, who is now in a fit of apoplexy. The
two persons, whom you see in his room, are said to be his
nephew and niece: they are too much affected by his situation
to be able to assist him; so, are securing his valuable effects.
By the time this is accomplished, he will be dead; and they
will be sufficiently recovered, and at leisure, to weep over his
remains.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic15.png" width="253" height="201" alt="The canon's nephew and niece steal his possessions" />
</div>
<p>"Close by, you may perceive the funeral of two brothers;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span>
who, seized with the same disorder, took equally successful
but different means of ensuring its fatality. One of them had
the most utter confidence in his apothecary; the other eschewed
the aid of medicine: the first died because he took all the
trash his doctor sent him; the last because he would take
nothing." "Well! that is very perplexing," said Leandro;
"what is a poor sick devil to do?" "Why," replied Asmodeus,
"that is more than the one who has the honour of
addressing you can determine. I know, for certain, that there
are remedies for most ills; but I am not so sure that there are
good physicians to administer them when necessary."</p>
<p>"And now I have something more amusing to unriddle.
Do you not hear a frightful din in the next street? A widow
of sixty was married this morning to an Adonis of seventeen;
and all the merry fellows of that part of the town have assembled
to celebrate the wedding by a concert of pots and pans,
marrow-bones and cleavers." "You told me," said the Student,
"that these matches were under your control: at all events,
you had no hand in this." "No, truly," answered the Demon,
"not I. Had I been free, I should not have meddled with
them. The widow had her scruples; and has married for no
better reason than that she may enjoy, without remorse, the
pleasures she so dearly loves. These are not the unions I care
to form; I prefer troubling people's consciences to setting them
at rest."</p>
<p>"Notwithstanding this charming serenade," said Zambullo,
"it seems to me that it is not the only concert performing in
the neighbourhood." "No," said the cripple; "in a tavern in
the same street, a lusty Flemish captain, a chorister of the
French opera, and an officer of the German guard are singing
a trio. They have been drinking since eight in the morning;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span>
and each deems it a duty to his country, to see the others
under the table."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 194px;">
<img src="images/ch03pic16.png" width="194" height="167" alt="The three drinkers" />
</div>
<p>"Look for a moment on the house which stands by itself,
nearly opposite to that of the apoplectic canon: you will
see three very pretty but very notorious courtezans enjoying
themselves with as many young courtiers." "They are, indeed,
lovely!" exclaimed Don Cleophas. "I am not surprised that
they should be notorious: happy are the lovers who possess
them! They seem, however, very partial to their present companions:
I envy them their good fortune." "Why, you are very
green!" replied the Demon: "their faces are not disguised
with greater skill than are their hearts. However prodigal of
their caresses, they have not the slightest tenderness for their
foolish swains; their affection is bounded to the purses of
their lovers. One of them has just secured the promise of a
liberal establishment; and the others are prepared with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>
settlements which they are in expectation of securing ere they part.
It is the same with them all. Men vainly ruin themselves for
the sex: gold buys not love. The well-paid mistress soon
treats her lover as a husband: that is a rule which I found
necessary to establish in my code of intrigue. But we will
leave these fools to taste the pleasures they so dearly purchase;
while their valets, who are waiting in the street, console
themselves with the pleasing anticipation of enjoying them
gratis."</p>
<p>"Tell me," interrupted Leandro Perez, "what is passing in
that splendid mansion on the left. The house is filled with
well-dressed cavaliers and ladies; and all seems dancing and
conviviality. It is indeed a joyous festival." "It is another
wedding," said Asmodeus; "and happy as they now are, it is
not three days since that house witnessed the deepest affliction.
It is a story worth hearing: it is rather long, certainly; but it
will repay your patience." The Devil then began as follows.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/ch03tailpiece.png" width="100" height="55" alt="tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER IV.</h5>
<h4>STORY OF THE LOVES OF THE COUNT DE BELFLOR AND LEONORA
DE CESPEDES.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiall.png" width="75" height="76" alt="L" />
</div>
<p>Leonora de Cespedes was passionately beloved
by the young Count de Belflor, one of the
most distinguished nobles of the court. He had,
however, no thoughts of suing for her hand; the
daughter of a private gentleman might command his love, but
had no pretensions in his eyes to rank above his mistress;
and such was the honour he designed for her.</p>
<p>Accordingly, he followed her everywhere; and lost no
opportunity of testifying by his glances the extent of his affection
for her person; but he was unable to converse with her,
or even to communicate by letter, so incessantly and vigilantly
was she guarded by an austere duenna, the lady Marcella. He
was almost in despair; yet, incited by the obstacles which
were thus opposed to his desires, he was constantly occupied
in devising means for their attainment, and for deceiving the
Argus who so carefully watched his Io.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p>
<p>In the meanwhile, Leonora had perceived the attention with
which the Count regarded her; and flattered by that first
homage, so delightful to the unworn heart, she soon yielded
to the soft persuasion of his eyes, and insensibly formed for
him a passion as violent as his own. The flames of love are
seldom kindled at the altar but they burn the temple. I did not,
however, fan those thus lighted in her bosom, for the magician
had put a stopper on my operations; but Nature, and woman's
nature especially, is generally potent enough in such cases,
without my assistance. Indeed, I doubt if she does not manage
these matters best by herself; the only difference in our modes
of procedure being, that Nature saps the heart by slow degrees,
while I love to carry it by storm.</p>
<p>Affairs were in this posture, when Leonora, and her eternal
governante, going one morning to church, were accosted by an
old woman, carrying in her hand one of the largest chaplets
ever framed by hypocrisy. "Heaven bless you!" said she,
addressing herself, with a saintly smile, to the duenna, "the
peace of God be with you! Have I not the honour of speaking
to the lady Marcella, the chaste widow of the lamented Signor
Martin Rosetta?" "You have," replied the governante.
"How fortunate!" exclaimed the old hypocrite; "I have a
relation, at this moment lying at my house, who would see
you ere he dies. He was intimately acquainted with your
dear husband, and has matters of the utmost importance to
communicate to you. It is only three days since he arrived in
Madrid, from Flanders, for the express purpose of seeing you;
but scarcely had he entered my house when he was stretched
on a bed of sickness, and he has now, I fear, but a few hours
to live. Let us hasten, while there is yet time, to soothe the
pangs of his passing spirit: a few steps will bring us to his side."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 258px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic01.png" width="258" height="259" alt="Leonora, Marcella and the old woman" />
</div>
<p>The wary duenna, who had seen enough of the world to be
suspicious of the best even of her own sex, still, however,
hesitated to follow: which the old lady perceiving, "My dear
lady Marcella," said she, "surely you do not doubt me. You
must have heard of La Chichona. Why! the licentiate Marcos
de Figuerna and the bachelor Mira de Mesqua would answer
for me as for their grandmothers. If I desire that you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span>
accompany me to my house, it is for your good only. Heaven forbid
that I should touch the smallest portion of that which is
your due, and which my poor relation is so anxious to repay
to the wife of his friend!" At the word "repay," the lady
Marcella hesitated no longer: "Let us go, my child," said she
to Leonora; "we will see this good woman's relation;—to
visit the sick is among the first of our duties." "Verily," said
the Demon, "charity does cover a multitude of sins!"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 247px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic02.png" width="247" height="163" alt="At the house of La Chichona" />
</div>
<p>They soon arrived at the house of La Chichona, who introduced
them to a mean apartment, where they found a man in
bed: he had a long beard, and if he were not really desperately
ill, he at least appeared to be so. "See, cousin!" said the
old woman, presenting the governante; "behold the person
whom you sought so anxiously; this is the lady Marcella, the
respected widow of your friend Rosetta." At these words, the
old man raised himself on his pillow with apparent difficulty;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>
and, making signs for the duenna to approach him, said with
a feeble voice,—"Heaven be praised, for its mercy in permitting
me to live till now!—to see you, my dear lady, was all
that I desired upon earth. Indeed, I feared to die, without
the satisfaction of seeing you, and of rendering into your hands
the hundred ducats which your late husband, my dearest friend,
so kindly lent me in my dire necessity, at Bruges, when but
for that assistance my honour had been for ever lost:—but you
must have often heard of me and my adventures."</p>
<p>"Alas! no," replied Marcella, "he never mentioned it to
me. God rest his soul! he was ever so generous as to forget
the services he rendered to his friends; and so far from boasting
of such kindnesses as these, I can declare that I even never
heard of his doing a good action in his life." "His was indeed
a noble mind," replied the sick man, "as I have perhaps better
reason to know than most persons; and to prove this to you
I must relate the history of the unfortunate affair from which
his liberality so happily released me. But as I shall have to
speak of things which should be disclosed to no other ears
than thine, honourable as they are to the memory of my
deceased friend, it were better that we should be alone."</p>
<p>"Oh, certainly!" cried Chichona, "though it would delight
me to hear of the good Rosetta, whom you are always praising,
we will retire to my closet;" saying which, she led Leonora
into the next apartment. No sooner had she done so, and
closed the door, than without ceremony the old woman thus
addressed her companion:—"Charming Leonora, our moments
are too precious to be wasted. You know the young Count
de Belflor, at least by sight. Need I say how long he has
loved you, and how ardently he desires to tell you so? Driven
to despair by the vigilance and austerity of Marcella, he has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>
had recourse to my assistance to procure him an interview;
and I, who could refuse nothing to so handsome a cavalier,
have dressed up his valet as the sick man you have just seen,
that I might engage your governante's attention and bring you
hither."</p>
<p>As she finished speaking, the Count, who was concealed by
the drapery of a little window, discovered himself, and, falling
at the feet of Leonora: "Madam," said he, "pardon the
stratagem of a lover, who could no longer conceal from you
the passion that is destroying the life to which it alone gives
value:—but for this good woman's kindness, I had perished
in despair." These words, uttered with respectful earnestness,
by a man whose appearance was far from displeasing, affected,
while they perplexed Leonora, and she remained for some
time speechless. But at length recovering herself, she looked,
or endeavoured to look, haughtily on her prostrate lover, and
replied: "Truly you are deeply indebted to your obliging
confidante for this attention, but I am not so sure that I have
equal reason to be thankful, or that you will gain by her
kindness the object you desire."</p>
<p>In saying these words, she moved towards the door; but
the Count, gently detaining her, exclaimed: "Stay, adorable
Leonora! deign to listen to me but for an instant. Be not
alarmed! my affection for you is pure as your own thoughts.
I feel that the artifice to which I have descended must revolt
you; but consider how vainly I have striven by more honourable
means to address you. You cannot be ignorant that for
many months, at the church, in the public walk, at the theatre,
I have vainly sought to confirm with my lips that passion
which my eyes could not disguise. Alas! while I implore
pardon for a crime to which the cruelty of the merciless<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>
duenna has compelled me, let me also entreat your pity for
the torments I have endured; and judge, by the charms
which your happy mirror discloses, of the extent of his
wretchedness who is banished from their sight."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 239px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic03.png" width="239" height="289" alt="Belflor woos Leonora" />
</div>
<p>Belflor did not fail to accompany these words with all the
arts of persuasion commonly practised with so much success
by my devotees: tender looks, heart-broken sighs, and even<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>
a few tears were not wanting; and Leonora was of course
affected. Despite herself, she began to feel those little flutterings
of the heart, which are the usual preludes of capitulation
with woman; but far from yielding without a struggle to her
tenderness, or pity, or weakness, the more sensible she became
of treason in the garrison, the more hastily she resolved to
vacate the place. "Count," she exclaimed, "it is in vain you
tell me this. I will listen no longer. Do not attempt to
detain me: let me leave a house in which my honour is
exposed to suspicion; or my cries shall alarm the neighbourhood,
and expose your audacity which has dared to insult
me." This she uttered with so resolute an air that Chichona,
who was on very punctilious terms with the police, prayed the
Count not to push matters to extremity. Finding his entreaties
useless, he released Leonora, who hastened from the apartment,
and, what never happened to any maiden before, left
it as she had entered it.</p>
<p>"Let us quit this dangerous house," said Leonora, on rejoining
her governante: "finish this idle talk,—we are deceived."
"What ails you, child?" cried Marcella in reply;
"and why should we leave this poor man so hastily?" "I
will tell you," said Leonora; "but let us fly: every instant I
remain here but adds to my affliction." However desirous
was the duenna to learn the cause of her ward's anxiety, she
saw that the best way to be satisfied was to yield to her
entreaties; and they quitted the apartment with a celerity
which quite discomposed the stately governante, leaving
Chichona, the Count, and his valet as much disconcerted as
a company of comedians, when the curtain falls on a wretched
farce, which the presiding deities of the pit have consigned to
a lower deep.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p>
<p>When Leonora found herself safely in the street, she related,
as well as her extreme agitation, and Marcella's exclamations
of astonishment, would permit, all that had passed in the
chamber with the Count and Chichona. "I must confess,
child," said the duenna, when they had reached home, "that
I am exceedingly mortified to hear what you have just been
telling me. To think that I have been the dupe of that
wicked woman! You will allow, however, that I was not
without my doubts. Why did I yield them? I should have
been suspicious of so much kindness and honesty. I have
committed a folly which is absolutely inexcusable in a person
of my sagacity and experience. Ah! why did you not tell me
this in her presence? I would have torn her eyes out: I
would have loaded the Count de Belflor with reproaches for
his perfidy: and as for the scoundrel with his ducats and his
beard, he should not have had a hair left on his head. But I
will return, this instant, with the money which I have received
as a real restitution; and if I find them still together, they
shall not have waited for nothing." So saying, the enraged
widow of the generous Rosetta folded her mantilla around
her, and left Leonora to weep over the treachery of mankind.</p>
<p>Marcella found the Count with Chichona, in despair at the
failure of his design. Most of my pupils, in his place, would
have been abashed at seeing her: it is extraordinary what
scruples I have to overcome. But Belflor was of another
stamp: to a thousand good qualities, he added that of yielding
implicit obedience to my inspirations. When he loved,
nothing could exceed the ardour with which he followed the
devoted object of his affections; and though naturally what
the world calls an honourable man, he was then capable of
violating the most sacred duties for the attainment of his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span>
desires. No sooner, therefore, did he perceive Marcella,
than, as he saw that their fulfilment could only be completed
through the duenna's agency, he resolved to spare nothing to
win her to his interests. He shrewdly guessed that, rigidly
virtuous as the lady appeared, she, like her betters, had her
price; and as he was disposed to bid pretty liberally, you will
own he did no great injustice to a duenna's fidelity: for so
rare a commodity will only be found where lovers are not
over-rich, or not sufficiently liberal.</p>
<p>The instant Marcella entered the room, and perceived the
three persons she sought, her tongue went as though possessed;
and while she poured a torrent of abuse on the Count
and Chichona, she sent the restitution flying at the head of
the valet. The Count patiently endured the storm; and
throwing himself on his knees before the duenna, to render
the scene more moving, he pressed her to take back the purse
she had rejected; and offering to add to it a thousand pistoles,
he besought her compassion on his sufferings. As Marcella
had never before been so earnestly entreated, it is no wonder
that she was, on this occasion, not inexorable: her invectives,
therefore, speedily ceased; and on comparing the tempting
sum now offered to her, with the paltry recompence she
expected from Don Luis de Cespedes, she was not slow in
discovering that it would be much more profitable to turn
Leonora from her duty, than to keep her in its path. Accordingly,
after some little affectation, she again received the purse,
accepted the offer of the thousand pistoles, promised to assist
the Count in his designs, and departed at once to labour for
their accomplishment.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic04.png" width="264" height="203" alt="Belflor bribes Marcella" />
</div>
<p>As she knew Leonora to be strictly virtuous, she was
extremely cautious of exciting the least suspicion of her intelligence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span>
with the Count, lest the plot should be discovered to
Don Luis, her father; so, desirous of skilfully effecting her ruin,
she thus addressed her on her return: "My dear Leonora, I
have revenged myself on the wretches who deceived us. I
found them quite confounded at your virtuous resolution; and,
threatening the infamous Chichona with your father's resentment,
and the most rigorous severity of the law, I bestowed on
the Count de Belflor all the insulting epithets that my anger
could suggest. I warrant that the Signor will make no more
attempts of this kind on you; and that henceforth his gallantries
will cease to engage my attention. I thank Heaven that, by
your firmness, you have escaped the snare that was laid for you.
I could weep for joy to think that the deceiver has gained<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>
nothing by his stratagem; for these noble signors make it their
amusement to seduce the young and innocent. Indeed, the
greater part even of those who pique themselves on their
honourable conduct have no scruples on this point, as though
it were no disgrace to carry ruin into virtuous families. Not
that I think the Count absolutely of this character, nor even
that he intends studiously to deceive you: we should not judge
too harshly of our neighbours; and perhaps, after all, he meant
you honourably. Although his rank would give him pretensions
to the hand of the noblest at our court, your beauty may yet
have induced him to resolve on marriage with yourself. In
fact, I recollect that in his answers to my reproaches, which I
heeded not at the time, I might have perceived something of
the sort."</p>
<p>"What say you, dear Marcella?" interrupted Leonora. "If
that were his intention, he would have sought me of my father,
who would never have refused his daughter to a person of his
rank." "What you say is perfectly just," replied the governante,
"and I am quite of your opinion; the Count's proceedings are
certainly suspicious, or rather his designs cannot be good: for
a trifle, I would return and scold him again." "No, good
Marcella," replied Leonora, "we had better forget the past,
and revenge ourselves by contempt." "Very true," said the
duenna; "I believe that is the best plan: you are more
prudent than myself. But, after all, may we not do the Count
injustice? Who knows that he has not been actuated by the
purest and most delicate motives? It is possible that, before
obtaining your father's consent, he may have resolved to deserve
and to please you; to render your union more delightful by
first gaining your heart. If that were so, child, would it be a
very great sin to listen to him? Tell me your thoughts, love;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
you know my affection: does your heart incline towards the
Count, or would it be very disagreeable to marry such a man?"</p>
<p>To this malicious question, the too-sincere Leonora replied,
with down-cast eyes, and face suffused with blushes, by avowing
that she had no aversion to the Count; but, as modesty prevented
her explaining herself more openly, the duenna still
pressed her to conceal nothing from her; and at last succeeded,
by affected tenderness, in obtaining a full confession of her
love. "Dearest Marcella," said the unsuspicious girl, "since
you desire me to speak to you without disguise, I must confess
that Belflor has appeared to me not unworthy of my love. I
was struck by his appearance; and I have heard him so much
praised, that I could not remain insensible to the affection he
displayed for me. Your watchful care to guard me from his
addresses has cost me many a sigh: nay, I will own I have in
secret wept his absence; and repaid with my tears the sufferings
your vigilance has caused him. Even at this moment,
instead of hating him for the insult he has offered to my honour,
my heart against my will excuses him, and throws his fault on
your severity."</p>
<p>"My child," said the governante, "since you give me reason
to believe that his attentions are pleasing to you, I will endeavour
to secure this lover." "I am very sensible," replied Leonora,
"of the kindness you intend me. It is not that the Count
holds the first place at court; were he but an honourable
private gentleman, I should prefer him to all others upon earth,
but let us not flatter ourselves: Belflor is a noble signor, destined,
without doubt, for one of the richest heiresses in our
kingdom. Let us not expect that he would descend to ally
himself with Don Luis, who has but a moderate fortune to offer
with his daughter. No, no," she added, "he entertains for me<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>
no such favourable thoughts: he thinks not of me as one worthy
to bear his name, but seeks only my dishonour."</p>
<p>"Ah! wherefore," said the duenna, "will you insist he loves
you not well enough to seek your hand? Love daily works
much greater miracles. One would imagine, to hear you, that
Heaven had made some infinite distinction between you and
the Count. Do yourself more justice, Leonora! He would
not condescend, in uniting his destiny with yours. You are of
an ancient and noble family, and your alliance would never
call a blush upon his cheek. However, you love him," continued
she; "and I must therefore see him, and sound him on
the subject; and if I find his designs as honourable as they
should be, I will indulge him with some slight hopes." "Not
for the world!" cried Leonora; "on no account would I have
you seek him: should he but suspect my knowledge of your
proceedings, he must cease even to esteem me." "Oh! I am
more cunning than you think me," answered Marcella. "I
shall begin by accusing him of a design to seduce you. He of
course will not fail to defend himself; I shall listen to his
excuses, and shall mark the event: in short, my dear child,
leave it to me; I will be as careful of your honour as of my
own."</p>
<p>Towards night, the duenna left the house, and found Belflor
watching in the neighbourhood. She informed him of her
conversation with his mistress, not forgetting to boast of the
address with which she had elicited from Leonora the confession
of her love. Nothing could more agreeably surprise the Count
than this discovery; and accordingly his gratitude was displayed
in the most ardent manner; that is to say, he promised
to Marcella the thousand ducats on the morrow, and to himself
the most complete success of his enterprise; well knowing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span>
as he did, that a woman prepossessed is half seduced. They
then separated, extremely well satisfied with each other, and
the duenna returned to her home.</p>
<p>Leonora, who had waited for her with extreme anxiety,
timidly inquired if she brought any news of the Count. "The
best news you could hear," replied the governante. "I have
seen him, and I can assure you of the purity of his intentions:
he declared that his only object is to marry you; and this he
confirmed by every oath that man holds sacred. I did not,
however, as you may suppose, yield implicitly to these protestations.
'If you are sincere,' said I to him, 'why do you
not at once apply to Don Luis, her father?' 'Ah! my dear
Marcella,' replied he, without appearing in the least embarrassed
by this question, 'could you, even, approve that,
without assuring myself of Leonora's affection, and following,
blindly, the dictates of a devouring passion, I should seek her
of Don Luis as a slave? No! her happiness is dearer to me
than my own desires; and I have too nice a sense of honour,
even to endanger that happiness by an indiscreet avowal.'</p>
<p>"While he thus spoke," continued the duenna, "I observed
him with extreme attention; and employed all my experience
to discover in his eyes if he were really possessed of all the
love that he expressed. What shall I say?—He appeared to
me penetrated by the truest love; I felt elated with joy, which
I took good care, however, to conceal: nevertheless, when I
felt persuaded of his sincerity, I thought that, in order to
secure for you so important a conquest, it would be but proper
to give him some faint idea of your feelings towards him.
'Signor,' said I, 'Leonora has no aversion for you; I know
that she esteems you; and, as far as I can judge, her heart
would not be grieved by your addresses.' 'Great God,' he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>
cried, transported with delight, 'what do I hear? Is it possible,
that the charming Leonora should be disposed so favourably
towards me? What do I not owe to you, kindest
Marcella, for thus relieving me from such torturing suspense?
I am the more rejoiced, too, that this should be announced by
you;—you, who have ever opposed my love; you, who have
inflicted on me such lengthened suffering. But, my dear
Marcella, complete my bliss! let me see my divine Leonora,
and pledge to her my faith; let me swear, in your presence,
to be hers only for ever.'</p>
<p>"To all these expressions of his devotion," continued the
governante, "he added others still more touching. At last,
my dear child, he entreated me in so pressing a manner to
procure for him a secret interview, that I could not forbear
promising he should see you." "Ah! why have you done
so?" exclaimed Leonora, with emotion. "How often have
you told me, that a virtuous girl should ever shun such secret
conversations,—always wrong, and almost always dangerous?"
"Certainly," replied the duenna, "I acknowledge to have
said so, and a very good maxim it is; but you are not obliged
to adhere to it strictly on this occasion; for you may look
upon the Count as your husband." "He is not so yet," said
Leonora, "and I ought not to see him until my father permits
his addresses."</p>
<p>Marcella, at this moment, repented of having imbued the
mind of her pupil with those notions of propriety which she
found so much trouble to overcome. Determined, however,
at any rate to effect her object, she thus recommenced her
attack: "My dear Leonora! I am proud to witness so much
virtuous delicacy. Happy fruit of all my cares! You have
truly profited by the lessons I have taught you. I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>
delighted with the result of my labours. But, child, you have
read rather too literally; you construe my maxims too
rigidly; your susceptibility is indeed somewhat prudish.
However much I pique myself on my severity, I do not quite
approve of that precise chastity which arms itself indifferently
against guilt or innocence. A girl ceases not to be virtuous
who yields her ear only to her lover, especially when she is
conscious of the purity which chastens his desires; and she is
then no more wrong in responding to his love, than she is for
her sensibility to the passion. Rely upon me, Leonora; I
have too much experience, and am too much interested in your
welfare, to suffer you to take a step that might be prejudicial
to it."</p>
<p>"But where would you have me see the Count?" said
Leonora. "In this room, to be sure," replied the duenna.
"Where could you see him so safely? I will introduce him to-morrow
evening." "You are not surely serious, Marcella!"
exclaimed Leonora. "What! think you I would permit a
man——" "To be sure you will!" interrupted the duenna;
"there is nothing so wonderful in that, as you imagine.
It happens daily; and would to heaven that every damsel
who receives such visits, had desires as pure as those by
which you are animated! Besides, what have you to fear?
shall not I be with you?" "Alas!" said Leonora, "should my
father surprise us!" "Do not trouble yourself about that,"
replied Marcella. "Your father is perfectly satisfied as to
your conduct: he knows my fidelity, and would not do me so
much wrong as to suspect it." Poor Leonora, thus artfully
instigated by the duenna, and secretly moved by her own
feelings, could withstand no longer; and at last yielded,
although unwillingly, to her governante's proposal.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p>
<p>The Count was soon informed of Marcella's success, of
which he was so well satisfied, that he at once gave her five
hundred pistoles, and a ring of equal value. The duenna,
finding his promises so well performed, was determined to be
as scrupulously exact in the fulfilment of her own; and,
accordingly, on the following night, when she felt assured that
every one in the house was fast asleep, she fastened to the
balcony a silken ladder, which the Count had provided, and
introduced his lordship to the chamber of his mistress.</p>
<p>In the meanwhile, the fair Leonora was immersed in reflections
of the most painfully agitating nature. Notwithstanding
her affection for the Count, and despite her governante's assurances,
she bitterly reproached herself for her weakness, in yielding
a consent to an interview which she still felt was in violation
of her duty; nor could a knowledge of the purity of her intentions
bring comfort to her bosom. To receive, by night, in
her apartment, a man whose love was unsanctioned by her
parent, and not certainly known even by herself, now appeared
to her not only criminal, but calculated to degrade her in the
estimation of her lover also; and this last thought tortured her
almost to madness, when that lover entered.</p>
<p>He threw himself on his knees before her; and, apparently
penetrated by love and gratitude, thanked her for that confidence
in his honour, which had permitted this visit, and
assured her of his determination to merit it, by shortly espousing
her. However, as he was not as explicit upon this point
as Leonora desired, "Count," said she to him, "I am too
anxious to believe that you have no other views than those you
express to me; but whatever assurances you may offer must
always appear to me suspicious, so long as my father is ignorant
of your designs, and has not ratified them by his consent."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p>
<p>"Madam," replied Belflor, "that would have been long since
demanded by me, had I not feared to have obtained it at the
sacrifice of your repose." "Alas!" said Leonora, "I do not
reproach you that you have not yet sought Don Luis,—I cannot
but be sensible of your delicacy; but nothing now restrains
you, and you must at once resolve to see my father, or never
to see me more."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 218px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic05.png" width="218" height="263" alt="Belflor climbs up to Leonora's balcony" />
</div>
<p>"What do I hear?" exclaimed the Count,—"never to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>
you more! Beauteous Leonora! how little sensible are you
to the charms of love! Did you know how to love like me,
you would delight in secret to receive my vows; and, for some
time at least, to conceal them from your father as from all the
world. Oh! who can paint the charms of that mysterious
intercourse, in which two hearts indulge, united by a passion
as intense as pure." "It may have charms for you," replied
Leonora; "to me, such intercourse would bring but sorrow:
this refinement of tenderness but ill becomes a virtuous maiden.
Speak not to me of such impure delights! Did you esteem
me, you had not dared to do so; and were your intentions
such as you would persuade me, you would, from your soul,
reproach me that I could listen to you with patience. But,
alas!" she added, while tears filled her eyes, "my weakness
alone has exposed me to this outrage: I have indeed deserved
it, that I see you here."</p>
<p>"Adorable Leonora!" cried the Count, "you wrong my
love most cruelly! Your virtue, too scrupulous, is causelessly
alarmed. What! can you conceive that, because I have been
so happy as to prevail on you to favour my passion, I should
cease to esteem you? What injustice! No, madam, I know,
too well, the value of your kindness; it can never deprive you
of my esteem; and I am ready to do as you require me. I
will, to-morrow, see Don Luis; and nothing shall be wanting
on my part to ensure my happiness: but I cannot conceal from
you, that I scarcely indulge a hope." "How!" replied;
Leonora, with extreme surprise; "is it possible that my father
should refuse me to the Count de Belflor?"—"Ah! it is that
very title which gives me cause for alarm. But I see this
surprises you: your astonishment, however, will soon cease.</p>
<p>"Only a few days ago," continued he, "the King was pleased<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>
to declare his will, that I should marry: you know how these
matters are managed at our Court. He has not, however,
named the lady for whom I am intended; but has contented
himself with intimating that she is one who will do me honour,
and that he has set his mind upon our union. As I was then
ignorant of your disposition towards me,—for, as you well
know, your rigorous severity has never until now, permitted
me to divine it,—I did not let him perceive in me any aversion
to the accomplishment of his desires. You may now therefore,
judge, madam, whether Don Luis would hazard the King's
displeasure, by accepting me as his son-in-law."</p>
<p>"No, doubtless," said Leonora; "I know my father well:
however desirable he might esteem your alliance, he would not
hesitate to renounce it, rather than expose himself to the anger
of his Majesty. But, even though my father had consented to
our union, we should not be less unfortunate; for, Belflor, how
could you possibly bestow on me a hand which the King has
destined for another?" "Madam," replied the Count, "I will
not disguise that your question embarrasses me. Still, I am
not without hope that, by prudent management with the King,
and by availing myself of the influence which his friendship for
me secures, I should find means to avoid the misfortune which
threatens me; and yourself, lovely Leonora, might assist me
in so doing, did you but deem me worthy of the happiness of
being yours." "I assist you!" she exclaimed; "how could I
possibly enable you to avert an union which the King proposes
for you?" "Ah! madam," he replied, with impassioned looks,
"would you deign to receive my vows of eternal fidelity to you,
I should have no difficulty in preserving my faith inviolate,
without offending my sovereign. Permit, charming Leonora,"
he continued, throwing himself at her feet, "permit me to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span>
espouse you in the presence of our friend Marcella; she is a
witness who will vouch for the sanctity of our engagements. I
shall thus escape the hateful bonds they would impose upon
me; for, should the King still press me to accept the lady he
designs for me, I will prostrate myself before him, and, on my
knees, confess how long and ardently my love has been devoted
to you, and that we are secretly married. However desirous
he may be to unite me with another, he is too gracious to think
of tearing me from the object I adore, and too just to offer so
grievous an affront to your honourable family.</p>
<p>"What is your opinion, discreet Marcella?" added he,
turning towards the governante; "what think you of this project
with which love has so opportunely inspired me?" "I
am charmed with it," said the duenna; "the rogue, Cupid, is
never at a loss for an expedient." "And you, dearest Leonora,"
resumed the Count, "what do you say to it? Can your heart,
always mistrustful, refuse its assent to my proposal?" "No,"
she replied, "provided my father consent to it; and I do not
doubt that he will, when you have explained to him your
reasons for secrecy." "You must be very cautious how you consult
him upon the subject," interrupted the abominable duenna;
"you do not know Don Luis: his notions of honour are too
scrupulous to permit him to engage himself with secret amours.
The proposal of a private marriage would shock him; besides
which, he is too prudent not to foresee the possible consequences
of one which interfered with the designs of the King. And,
once proposed to him, and his suspicion aroused, his eyes will
be constantly upon you; and he will take good care to prevent
your marriage, by separating you for ever."</p>
<p>"And I should die with grief and despair," cried our courtier.
"But madam," continued he, addressing himself to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>
Marcella, with an air of profound disappointment, "do you
really think, then, that there is no chance of Don Luis yielding
to our prayer?" "Not the slightest!" replied the governante.
"But suppose he should! Exact and scrupulous as he is, he
would never consent to the omission of a single religious ceremony
on the occasion; and if they are all to be observed in
your marriage, the secret will be soon known in Madrid."</p>
<p>"Ah! my dear Leonora," said the Count, taking her hand,
and tenderly pressing it within his own, "must we, then, to
satisfy a vain notion of decorum, expose ourselves to the
frightful danger of an eternal separation? Our happiness is
in your hands; since it depends on you alone to bestow yourself
on me. A father's consent might, perhaps, spare you
some uneasiness; but since our kind Marcella has convinced
us of the impossibility of obtaining it, yield yourself, without
further scruple, to my innocent desires. Receive my heart
and hand; and when the time shall have arrived, that we may
inform Don Luis of our union, we shall have no difficulty in
satisfying him as to our reasons for its concealment." "Well,
Count," said Leonora, "I consent to your not at once speaking
to my father, but that you first sound the King upon the subject.
Before, however, I receive thus secretly your hand, I
would have this done. See his Majesty; tell him even, if
necessary, that we are married. Let us endeavour, by this
show of confidence,——" "Alas! madam," interrupted Belflor,
"what do you ask of me? No, my soul revolts at the
thoughts of falsehood. I cannot lie; and you would despise
me, could I thus dissemble with the King;—besides, how
could I hope for pardon at his hands, should he discover the
meanness of which I had been guilty?"</p>
<p>"I should never have done, Signor Don Cleophas," continued<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span>
the Demon, "were I to repeat word for word all that
Belflor said, in order to seduce his lovely mistress; I will only
add, that he repeated, without my assistance, all those passionate
phrases with which I usually inspire gallants upon
similar occasions. But in vain did he swear he would publicly
confirm, as soon as possible, the faith which he proposed to
pledge in secret: Leonora's virtue was proof against his oaths;
and the blushing day, which surprised him while he called
Heaven to witness for his fidelity, compelled him to retire less
triumphant than he had anticipated."</p>
<p>On the following morning, the duenna, conceiving that her
honour, or rather her interest, engaged her not to abandon the
enterprise, took an opportunity of reverting to the subject.
"Leonora," said she, "I am confounded by what passed last
evening; you appear to disdain the Count's affection, or to
regard it as inspired by an unworthy motive. Perhaps, however,
after all, you remarked something in his person or manner
that displeased you?" "No, good governante," replied Leonora;
"he never appeared to me more amiable; and his conversation
discovered to me a thousand new charms." "If that be the
case," said the duenna, "I am still more perplexed. You
acknowledge to be strongly prepossessed in his favour, and
yet refuse to yield in a point, the absolute necessity of which
he has so clearly demonstrated."</p>
<p>"My dear Marcella," replied her ward, "you are wiser, and
have had more experience in these matters, than myself; but
have you sufficiently reflected on the consequences of a marriage
contracted without my father's knowledge?" "Yes, certainly,"
answered the duenna, "I have maturely considered all
that; and I regret to find you oppose yourself, with an obstinacy
of which I deemed you incapable, to the brilliant establishment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span>
which fortune presents so uselessly. Have a care that your
perverseness does not weary and repel your lover; remember
that he may discover the inequality of your station and fortune,
which his passion overlooks. While he offers you his faith,
receive it without hesitation. His word is his bond; there is
no tie more sacred with a man of honour, like Belflor: besides,
I am witness that he acknowledges you as his wife; and I need
not tell you that a testimony like mine would be more than
sufficient to condemn a lover who should dare to perjure himself,
and attempt to evade a legal contract."</p>
<p>By this and similar conversations, the resolution of the
artless Leonora was at last shaken; and the perils which surrounded
her were so adroitly concealed by her perfidious governante,
that, some days afterwards, she abandoned herself,
without further reflection, to the will of the Count. Belflor
was introduced nightly, by the balcony, into his mistress's
apartment; which he left again before daybreak, when summoned
by the duenna.</p>
<p>One morning, the old lady overslept herself; and Aurora
had already half opened the golden chambers of the east, when
the Count hastily departed, as usual. Unfortunately, in his
hurry to descend the ladder, his foot missed, and he fell heavily
on the ground.</p>
<p>Don Luis de Cespedes, who slept in the room over Leonora's,
had that morning risen earlier than usual to attend to some
important engagements; and hearing the noise of Belflor's fall
he opened his window to learn whence it proceeded. To his
astonishment, he perceived a man just raising himself, with
difficulty, from the earth, while Marcella was busily engaged in
the balcony with the silken ladder, of which the Count had
made such bad use in his descent. Scarcely believing his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>
eyes, and rubbing them to make sure that he was awake, Don
Luis stood for some time in amazement; but he was too soon
convinced that what he saw was no illusion; and that the light
of day, although just breaking, was bright enough to discover
to him, too clearly, his disgrace.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 165px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic06.png" width="165" height="238" alt="Don Luis de Cespedes looking out of the window" />
</div>
<p>Afflicted at this fatal sight, transported by a just wrath, he
instantly sought the apartment of Leonora, holding the light
by which he had been writing in one hand, and his sword in
the other. With a frantic determination of sacrificing his
daughter and her governante to his resentment, he struck the
door of their chamber violently, and commanded them to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>
admit him. Trembling, they obeyed his summons; when he
entered with infuriated looks, and displaying his naked sword:
"I come," he cried, "to wash out, in the blood of an infamous
child, the stains on the wounded honour of her father; and to
punish the crime of a perfidious wretch, who has betrayed his
confidence."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic07.png" width="264" height="276" alt="Don Luis confronts Leonora and Marcella" />
</div>
<p>They were in a moment on their knees before him; and, as
he raised his arm, the trembling duenna exclaimed: "In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>
mercy hold, Signor! Before you inflict on us the punishment
you meditate, deign but to listen to me for a moment."
"Speak, then, unhappy woman," said Don Luis; "I will retard
my vengeance but for the instant you require: speak, I repeat!
tell me all the circumstances of my misfortune. But what do
I say,—all the circumstances? Alas! I am ignorant but of
one; it is, the name of the villain who has dishonoured me."
"Signor," replied Marcella, "the cavalier who has just left us is
the Count de Belflor." "The Count de Belflor!" repeated
Don Luis; "and where did he see my daughter? By what
means has he seduced her? On your life, hide nothing from
me!" "Signor," replied the governante, "I will relate the whole
history to you, with all the sincerity of which I am capable."</p>
<p>She then related, with infinite art, all the conversations she
had previously narrated to Leonora, as having passed between
herself and the Count; whom she painted in the most flattering
colours, as a lover tender, delicate, and sincere, beyond description.
As, however, there was no escaping the event in
which this heroic love most naturally terminated, she was
obliged to avow the truth. But she managed this so adroitly,
insisting on the weighty reasons which Belflor had for secrecy
in his nuptials, and on the regret he had always expressed for
its necessity, that she gradually appeased the fury of her
master. This she was not slow to perceive; and, to completely
soften the old man, she wound up by a peroration that
would have done as much honour to a wig as to a gown:—"Signor,"
said she, "I have thus told you the simple truth:
now punish us if you will, and plunge your sword into your
daughter's bosom! But what say I? No! Leonora is innocent;
she has but followed the faithful counsels of her to whom
you confided the guidance of her conduct. It is my heart<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>
against which your sword should be directed; it was I who
first introduced the Count to her apartment; it is I who
formed those ties which bind him to your daughter. I would
not perceive the irregularity of his engagement, although unauthorised
by you: I saw in him but a son-in-law, whom I was
anxious to secure to you; but the channel through which the
favours of our Court might reach you. I forgot all but the
happiness of Leonora, and the advancement of your family,
in the brilliant alliance of the Count. I have erred: the excess
of my zeal has made me forgetful of my duty."</p>
<p>While the subtle Marcella was speaking thus, poor Leonora
was not sparing of her tears; and her grief appeared so excessive
that the good old man could not resist it. He was affected.
His anger was changed into compassion; his sword fell on
the ground; and, quitting the air of an irritated parent: "Ah!
my daughter," he cried, while tears sprung from his aged eyes,
like water from the rock of Horeb, "what a fatal passion is
love! Alas! you know not yet all the causes it will bring you
for affliction. The shame which a father's presence alone
excites, can bring tears to your eyes at this moment; but you
foresee not the woes which your lover is, perhaps even now,
preparing for the future. And you, imprudent Marcella, what
have you done? Into what an abyss has your indiscreet zeal
for my family plunged us! I allow that an alliance with a
man like Belflor might dazzle you, and it is that which alone
excuses and saves you; but, miserable that you are, why were
you not more cautious with a lover of his station? The greater
his credit and favour at court, the more guarded should you
have been against his approaches. Should he not scruple to
break his faith with my daughter, how shall I avenge the
insult? Shall I implore the power of our laws? A person of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>
his rank can easily shelter himself from its severity. I will
suppose that, faithful to his oaths, he would abide by his engagements
with my daughter: if the King, as you say, has
decreed that he shall marry with another, is it likely that our
sovereign will fail to be obeyed?"</p>
<p>"Oh! my father," replied Leonora, "that need not alarm us.
The Count has assured us that the King would never do so
great a violence to his feelings—" "Of which I am convinced,"
interrupted the duenna; "for, besides that the monarch
loves Belflor too much to exercise so great a tyranny upon his
favourite, he is of too noble a character to afflict so grievously
the valiant Don Luis de Cespedes, who has devoted to the
service of the state the best years of his life."</p>
<p>"Heaven grant," exclaimed the old man, sighing, "that all
my fears are vain! I will seek the Count, and demand a
full explanation of his conduct: the eyes of a father, alarmed
for a daughter's welfare, will pierce his very soul. If I find
him what I would hope, and what you would persuade me he
is, I will pardon what has passed; but," added he firmly, "if
in his discourse I discern the perfidy of his heart, you go, both
of you, to bewail in retirement, for the rest of your days, the
imprudence of which you have been guilty." As he finished,
he took up his sword, and retired to his own room, leaving
his daughter and her governante to recover themselves from
the fright into which this discovery had so unexpectedly
thrown them.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch04pic08.png" width="264" height="181" alt="The lady, her husband and her lover" />
</div>
<p>Asmodeus was at this moment interrupted in his recital by
the Student, who thus addressed him:—"My dear Devil,
interesting as is the history you are relating to me, my eyes
have wandered to an object which prevents my listening to
you as attentively as I could wish. I see a lady, who is rather<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>
good-looking, seated between a young man and a gentleman
old enough to be his grandfather. They seem to enjoy the
liqueurs which are on the table near them, but what amuses
me, is, that as from time to time the amorous old dotard
embraces his mistress, the deceiver conveys her hand to the
lips of the other, who covers it with silent kisses. He is
doubtless her gallant." "On the contrary," replied the cripple,
"he is her husband, and the old fool is her lover. He is a
man of consequence,—no less than a commandant of the
military order of Calatrava; and is ruining himself for the
lady, whose complaisant husband holds some inferior place at
court She bestows her caresses on the sighing knight, for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>
sake of his gold; and is unfaithful to him in favour of her
husband, from inclination."</p>
<p>"That is a marvellously pretty picture," said Zambullo.
"The husband of course is French?" "No, no," replied the
Demon: "he is a Spaniard. Oh! the good city of Madrid
can boast within its walls a fair proportion of such well-bred
spouses: still, they do not swarm here as in Paris, which is,
beyond contradiction, the most fruitful city of the world in
such inhabitants." "I thought so," said Don Cleophas; "but
pardon me, Signor Asmodeus, if I have broken the thread of
the fair Leonora's story. Continue it, I pray you; it interests
me exceedingly; and exhibits such variety in the art of seduction
as transports me with admiration."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 192px;">
<img src="images/ch04tailpiece.png" width="192" height="158" alt="Tailpiece of a gentleman in a rustic landscape" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER V.</h5>
<h4>CONTINUATION OF THE STORY OF THE LOVES OF THE COUNT
DE BELFLOR AND LEONORA DE CESPEDES.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiald.png" width="75" height="75" alt="D" />
</div>
<p>Don Luis, (continued Asmodeus), on returning to
his apartment, dressed himself hastily, and, while
it was still early, repaired to the Count; who,
not suspecting a discovery, was much surprised by
this visit. On the old man's entrance, however, Belflor ran
to meet him, and, embracing him cordially, exclaimed, "Ah
Signor Don Luis; I am delighted to see you. To what do I
owe this happiness? Am I so fortunate as to have an opportunity
of serving you?" "Signor," replied Don Luis sternly,
"I would speak with you alone."</p>
<p>Belflor desired his attendants to withdraw; and as soon as
they were seated, "Signor," said Cespedes, "I come to ask of
you an explanation of circumstances in which my honour and
happiness are deeply interested. I saw you this morning
leaving the apartment of my daughter. She has disguised
nothing from me: she informed that——" "She has told<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>
you that I love her," interrupted the Count, to avoid hearing
what he knew could not be very agreeable; "but she can but
have feebly described all that I feel for her. I am enchanted
with her; she is an adorable creature: beauty, wit, virtue,—nothing
is wanting to perfect her charms. I am told you have
a son, too, who is finishing his studies at Alcala: does he
resemble his sister? If he have her beauty, and have at all
inherited the noble bearing of his father, he must be a perfect
cavalier. I die with anxiety to see him; and I assure you that
I shall be proud to advance his fortunes."</p>
<p>"I am obliged to you for so kind an offer," gravely replied
Don Luis; "but to return to the subject of——" "He must
enter the service at once," again interrupted the Count: "I
charge myself with the care of his interests: he shall not grow
old among the crowd of subalterns; on that you may depend."
"Answer me, Count!" replied the old man vehemently, "and
cease these interruptions. Do you intend, or not, to fulfil the
promise——?" "Yes, certainly," interrupted Belflor for the
third time; "I engage faithfully to support your son with all
the interest I possess: rely on me; I am a man of my word."
"This is too much, Count," cried Cespedes, rising: "after
having seduced my daughter, you dare thus to insult me! But
I also am a noble; and the injury you have done me shall not
remain unpunished." In finishing these words, he left the
Count, his heart swelling with anger, and his mind tormented
with a thousand projects of revenge.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 239px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic01.png" width="239" height="234" alt="Don Luis de Cespedes interviews Belflor" />
</div>
<p>On arriving at home, still greatly agitated, he immediately
went to Leonora's apartment, where he found her with Marcella.
"It was not without reason," said he, addressing them, "that
I was suspicious of the Count: he is a traitor; but I will
avenge myself. For you, you shall at once hide your shame<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span>
within a convent: both of you, prepare to leave this house
to-morrow; and thank Heaven that my wrath contents itself
with so moderate a punishment." He then left them, to shut
himself in his cabinet, that he might maturely reflect on the
conduct it would be proper to observe in so delicate a conjuncture.</p>
<p>How poignant was the grief of Leonora, when thus informed
of Belflor's perfidy! She remained for some time motionless;
a death-like paleness overspread her lovely features; life itself
seemed about to abandon her, and she fell senseless into the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span>
arms of her governante. The alarmed duenna at first thought
that the victim of her intrigues was really dead; but, on perceiving
that she still breathed, used every effort to restore her
to consciousness, and at last succeeded. Existence, however,
had no longer charms for Leonora; and when, somewhat
recovered, she unclosed her eyelids, and perceived the officious
governante busy about her person, "Cruel Marcella!" she
exclaimed, sighing deeply; "wherefore have you drawn me
from the happy state in which I was? Then, I felt not the
horror of my destiny. Why did you not let me perish? You,
who know so well that life henceforth must be but one long
misery, why have you sought to preserve it?"</p>
<p>The duenna endeavoured to console her, but her words only
added to Leonora's sufferings. "It is in vain you would
comfort me," she cried, "I will not hear you: strive not to
combat my despair. Rather seek to add to its profundity;
you, who have plunged me into the frightful gulph in which all
my hopes are swallowed:—you it was who assured me of the
Count's sincerity; but for you I had never yielded to my
passion for him; I should have insensibly triumphed over it, or
at least, he would never have had cause to boast of my weakness.
But no! I will not," she continued, "attribute to you
my misfortunes; it is myself alone I should accuse. I ought
not to have followed your advice, in accepting the faith of a
man, without the sanction of my father. However flattering
to me were the attentions of Count de Belflor, I should have
despised them, rather than have endeavoured to secure them at
the price of my honour: I should have mistrusted him, you!
Marcella, and myself. For my folly in listening to his perfidious
oaths, for the affliction I have caused to the unhappy Don Luis,
and for the dishonour I have brought upon my family, I detest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span>
myself; and, far from fearing the state of seclusion with which
I am menaced, I would willingly conceal my guilt and shame in
the most frightful dungeon in the world."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic02.png" width="265" height="275" alt="Marcella tries to console Leonora" />
</div>
<p>While her grief thus vented itself in exclamations, and tears
streamed from her eyes, she frantically tore her clothes, and
revenged the injustice of her lover on the beautiful locks which
fell around her neck. The duenna, also, to appear in keeping
with her mistress's grief, was not sparing of grimaces; she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>
managed to squeeze out some convenient tears, and directed a
thousand imprecations against mankind in general, and against
Belflor in particular. "Is it possible," she cried, "that the
Count, who had all the semblance of amiability and rectitude,
should be so great a villain as to have deceived us both? I
cannot get over my surprise, or rather, I cannot even yet
persuade myself that he is so."</p>
<p>"Indeed," said Leonora, "when I picture him myself at my
feet, what maiden could but have confided to so much tenderness,—to
his oaths, which he so daringly called on Heaven to
witness,—to his boundless transports, which seemed so sincere?
His eyes to me discovered a love far more intense than his lips
could express; and the very sight of me appeared to charm
him:—no, he did not deceive me; I cannot believe it. My
father has not spoken to him with sufficient caution; they have
quarrelled, and the Count has replied to his reproaches less as
the lover than the lord. Still, may I not deceive myself? I
will, however, end this horrible suspense. I will write to
Belflor,—tell him I expect him here this night: I am resolved
he comes to reassure my troubled heart, or to confirm, himself,
his treachery."</p>
<p>Marcella loudly applauded this resolution; she even conceived
a hope that the Count, all ambitious as he was, might
yet be affected by the tears of his Leonora, which could not
fail at this interview, and that he might determine on espousing
her in truth.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Belflor, relieved of the presence of Don Luis,
was revolving in his mind the probable consequences of the
reception he had given to the good old man. He felt certain
that all the Cespedes, enraged at the injury he had done their
family, would unite to avenge it: this, however, gave him but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span>
little trouble; the possible loss of Leonora occasioned him far
greater anxiety. She would, he imagined, at once be placed in
a convent, or, at least, that she would be carefully guarded from
his sight; and that she was consequently lost to him for ever.
This thought afflicted him; and he was occupied in devising
some means to prevent so great a misfortune, when his valet
entered the apartment, and presented a letter which Marcella
had placed in his hands. It was from Leonora, and ran as
follows:—</p>
<blockquote>
<p>"<span class="smcap">My still dearest Belflor</span>,</p>
<p>"I shall to-morrow quit the world, to bury myself in
a convent. Dishonoured, odious to my family and to myself,
such is the deplorable condition to which I am reduced by
listening to you. Still I will expect you to-night. In my
despair, I seek new tortures: come, and avow to me that your
heart disowned the protestations which your lips have made to
me; or come to confirm them by your sympathy, which alone
can soften the harshness of my destiny. As there may, however,
be some danger in this meeting, after what has passed
between you and my father, be sure you are accompanied by a
friend. Although you have rendered life worthless to me, I
cannot cease to interest myself in thine.</p>
<p>"<span class="smcap">Leonora</span>."</p></blockquote>
<p>While the Count perused this letter, which he read over
several times, his imagination depicted the situation of Leonora,
in colours more sombre even than the reality, and he was
deeply affected. He bitterly reflected on his past conduct:
reason, probity, honour, all whose laws he had violated in the
phrenzy of his passion, now regained their empire in his breast.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>
The blindness which selfishness inflicts upon its victims was
dissipated; and as the fevered convalescent blushes for the
follies which, in the access of his disorder, he has committed,
so was Belflor ashamed of the meanness and artifice of which
he had been guilty to satisfy his lust.</p>
<p>"What have I done?" he cried; "wretch that I am, what
demon has possessed me? I promised Leonora to espouse
her, and called on Heaven to witness for the lie; I falsely
told her that the King had designed me for another; lying,
treachery, perjury,—I have hesitated at nothing to corrupt
innocence itself. What madness! Oh! had I used, to control
it, the efforts I have made to gratify my passion! To
seduce one of whose beauty and virtue I was unworthy, to
abandon her to the wrath of her relations, whom I have equally
dishonoured, and to plunge her in misery as a return for the
happiness she bestowed on me,—what ingratitude! Ought I
not then to repair the injury I have inflicted? Yes, I ought,
and I will; my hand shall at the altar fulfil the pledge I gave
for it. Who shall oppose me in so righteous a determination?
Should her tenderness for me at all prejudice her virtue? No,
I know too well what that cost me to vanquish. She yielded
less to my love than to her confidence in my integrity, and to
my vows of fidelity. But, on the other hand, if I resolve on
this marriage, I make a great sacrifice,—I, who may pretend to
the heiresses of the richest and most noble houses in the kingdom,
shall I content myself with the daughter of a respectable
gentleman, of small fortune? What will they think of me at
court? They will say that I have made a splendid alliance
indeed!"</p>
<p>Belflor, thus divided between love and ambition, knew not
how to resolve; but although undetermined whether he should<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>
marry Leonora or not, he had no difficulty in making up his
mind to see her that evening, and at once directed his valet so
to inform Marcella.</p>
<p>Don Luis was all this time in his cabinet, engaged in
reflections on the mode he should adopt to vindicate his
honour; and he was not a little embarrassed in his choice.
To have recourse to the laws, was to publish his disgrace,
besides which, he suspected with great reason that justice
was likely to be one side, and the judges on the other.
Again, he dared not to seek reparation of the King himself;
as he believed that prince had views with regard to Belflor
which must render such an application useless. There remained,
then, but his own sword and those of his friends, and
on these he concluded to rely.</p>
<p>In the heat of his resentment, he at first meditated a
challenge to the Count; but on consideration of his great
age and weakness, he feared to trust his arm; so resolved to
confide the matter to his son, whose thrust he thought was
likely to be surer than his own. He therefore sent one of his
domestics to Alcala, with a letter commanding his son's immediate
presence in Madrid, to revenge, as he stated it, an insult
offered to the family of the Cespedes.</p>
<p>"This son, Don Pedro, is a cavalier of eighteen years of age,
perfectly handsome, and so brave, that he passes at Alcala for
the most valiant student of that university; but you know
him," added the Devil, "and I need not enlarge on the
subject." "I can answer," said Don Cleophas, "for his
having all the valour and all the merit that can adorn a
gentleman."</p>
<p>"But this young man," resumed Asmodeus, "was not then
at Alcala, as his father imagined. Love had brought him also<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>
to Madrid, where the object of his passion resided; and where
he had met her for the first time, on the Prado, on the occasion
of his last visit to his family. Who she was, he knew not: and
his fair conquest had exacted of him a pledge that he would
take no steps to inform himself on this head,—and although
he was as good as his word, it cost him some trouble to keep
it. I need hardly add, that she was of higher rank than her
lover; and that, wisely mistrusting the discretion and constancy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>
of a student—no offence to your highness—she thought proper
to test him as to these necessary qualifications for a suitor,
before she disclosed to him her station or name."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 214px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic03.png" width="214" height="280" alt="Portrait of Don Pedro" />
</div>
<p>His thoughts were, of course, more occupied by his lovely
incognita than with the philosophy of Aristotle; and the
vicinity of Alcala to Madrid occasioned the youthful Pedro
to play truant to his studies as frequent as yourself; but, I
must say, with a better excuse than your Donna Thomasa
afforded. To conceal from his father, Don Luis, his amorous
excursions, he usually lodged at a tavern at the other end of
the town, where he passed under a borrowed name; and only
went abroad at a certain hour in the morning, that he might
repair to a house where the lady, for the love of whom he
neglected his Ovid, did him the honour to wait, in company
with a trusty female attendant. During the rest of the day he
shut himself up in his hotel; but as soon as night was come, he
wandered fearlessly throughout the city.</p>
<p>He happened one evening, as he was traversing a bye-street,
to hear the sound of instruments and voices, which attracted
his attention, and he stopped to listen. It was a serenade,
and tolerably performed; but the cavalier, who was drunk, and
naturally brutish, no sooner perceived our student than he
hurried towards him, and, without preface,—"Friend," said he,
with an insolent air, "make yourself scarce; or your curiosity
may find you more than you expect." "I would have withdrawn,"
replied Don Pedro, proudly, "had you requested me
to do so with civility; but I shall now stay, to teach you better
manners." "We shall see, then," said the serenading gallant,
drawing his sword, "which of us two will give place to the other."</p>
<p>Don Pedro also drew his sword, their weapons were crossed
in a moment, and a furious combat ensued; but although the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>
Student's adversary was not wanting in skill, he could not
parry a mortal thrust of Don Pedro, and fell dead upon the
pavement. The musicians, who had already quitted their
instruments, or stopped their singing, and had drawn their
swords to protect their patron, now came in a body to avenge
his death, and attacked Don Pedro all together. He, however,
gave them satisfactory proofs of what he could do upon occasion;
for, besides parrying, with surprising dexterity, all the
thrusts which they designed for him, he dealt furiously among
them, and found work for them all to protect themselves.</p>
<p>Still, they were so numerous, and apparently so determined
on the Student's death, that, skilful as he was with his weapon,
they would have most probably accomplished their object, had
not the Count de Belflor, who was accidentally passing through
the street, come to his assistance. The Count was of too noble
a nature to see so many armed men striving against one man
to hesitate upon the part he should take. His sword was
therefore instantly directed against the musicians, and with so
much vigour that they were soon put to flight, some wounded,
and the others for fear they should be.</p>
<p>The field thus cleared, the Student, with what breath remained
to him, began to express his sense of the valuable
service he had so seasonably received; but Belflor at once
stopped him: "Not a word, my dear Sir," said he; "are you
not wounded?" "No," replied Don Pedro. "Then let us
leave this place at once," said the Count: "I see you have
killed your man; and it will be dangerous to stay in his company,
lest the officers of justice surprise you." They immediately
decamped as quickly as possible, and did not stop until they
had gained a street at some distance from the field of battle.</p>
<p>Don Pedro, filled with a natural gratitude, then begged the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>
Count not to conceal from him the name of a person to whom
he owed so great an obligation. Belflor made no difficulty in
complying with this request; but when in turn he asked that of
the Student, the latter, unwilling to discover himself to any
person in Madrid, replied, that he was Don Juan de Maros,
and that he should eternally bear in his remembrance the debt
of gratitude which he owed to the Count.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 245px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic04.png" width="245" height="276" alt="The swordfight" />
</div>
<p>"Well," said Belflor to him, "I will this night give you an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>
opportunity of repaying it in full. I have an appointment,
which is not without risk; and I was about, when I fell in with
you, to seek the protection of a friend. However, I know
your valour, Don Juan: will you accompany me?" "To doubt
it, were to insult me," replied the Student: "I cannot better
employ the life you have preserved, than in exposing it in
your defence. Go! I am ready to follow you." Accordingly,
Belflor conducted Don Pedro to the house of Don Luis, and
they both entered, by the balcony, the apartment of Leonora.</p>
<p>Here Don Cleophas interrupted the Devil: "Signor Asmodeus,"
said he, "impossible! What! not know his own
father's house? No, no, no; that will never do." "It was
not possible he should know it," replied the Demon; "for it
was a new one: Don Luis had lately changed his habitation,
and had only taken this house a week before; which was just
what Don Pedro did not know, and was what I was just going
to tell you when you stopped me. You are too sharp; and
have that shocking habit of displaying your intelligence by
interrupting people in their stories: get rid of that fault, I
pray you."</p>
<p>"Well," continued the Devil, "Don Pedro did not think he
was in his father's house; nor did he even perceive that it
was Marcella who let him into it; since she received him
without a light, in an antechamber, where Belflor requested his
companion to remain while he was in the next room with his
mistress. To this the Student made no demur; so quietly sat
himself down in a chair, with his drawn sword in his hand for
fear of surprise, while his thoughts ran on the favours which
he suspected love was heaping on the Count, and his wishes
that he might be as happy with his incognita,—for although
he had no great cause of complaint as to her kindness, still<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>
it was not exactly paid after the kind of that of Leonora for the
Count."</p>
<p>While he was making, upon this subject, all those pleasing
reflections which occur so readily to an impassioned lover, he
heard some one endeavouring quietly to open a door, which
was not that of The Delights, but one which discovered a light
through the keyhole. He rose quickly, and advanced towards
it; and, as the door opened, presented the point of his sword
to his father; for he it was who entered Leonora's apartments,
for the purpose of seeing that the Count was not there. The
good old man did not exactly suppose, after what had passed,
that his daughter and Marcella would dare to receive him
again, which had prevented his assigning to them other
chambers; but he had thought it probable that, as they were
to go to a nunnery on the following day, they might desire
to converse with him, for the last time, ere they left his
roof.</p>
<p>"Whoever thou art," said the Student, "enter not this room,
or it may cost thee thy life." At these words, Don Luis stared
at Don Pedro, who also regarding the old man with attention,
they soon recognised each other. "Ah! my son," cried the
old man, "with what impatience have I expected you: why
did you not inform me of your arrival? Did you fear to disturb
my rest? Alas! that is for ever banished, in the cruel situation
in which I am placed." "Ah, my father!" said Don Pedro,
utterly amazed, "is it you whom I behold? Are not my eyes
deceived by some fantastic vision?" "Whence this astonishment?"
replied Don Luis; "are you not within your father's
house? Have I not, a week ago, informed you where to find
me?" "Just Heaven!" cried the Student, "what do I hear?—and
this then is my sister's apartment."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span></p>
<p>As he finished these words, the Count, whom the noise had
alarmed, and who expected that his escort was attacked, came
out, sword in hand, from Leonora's chamber. No sooner did
the old man perceive him than, with fury in his eyes, he pointed
to Belflor, and exclaimed to his son,—"There is the villain
who has robbed me of my happiness, and who has stained our
honour with a mortal taint. Revenge! Let us hasten to punish
the traitor!" As he thus vented his rage, he opened his dressing-gown,
and drew from beneath it his sword, with which he
was about to fall on the Count, when Don Pedro restrained
him. "Stay, my father," said he; "moderate, I entreat you,
the fury of your wrath: what are you about to do?" "My
son," replied the old man, "you withhold my arm. You
doubtless think it is too weak to revenge our wrongs. Be
it so! Do you then exact full satisfaction for the injury
he has done us: it was for this purpose that I summoned
you to Madrid. Should you perish, I will take your place;
for either shall the Count fall beneath our arms, or he shall
take from both of us our lives, after having blasted our
reputation."</p>
<p>"My father," said Don Pedro, "I cannot yield to your impatience
that which it requires of me. Far from attempting
the life of the Count, I am now here to defend it. For that
my word is pledged,—to that my honour is assured. Let us
depart, Count," continued he, addressing himself to Belflor.
"Ah! wretch," interrupted Don Luis, while he surveyed his
son with anger and astonishment,—"thus to oppose thyself to
a vengeance, which it should be the business of thy life to
accomplish! My son, my own son, is leagued, then, with the
villain who has corrupted my daughter! But think not to
escape my resentment: I will place a sword in the hand of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span>
every servant in my house, to punish his treachery and thy
despicable meanness."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic05.png" width="268" height="290" alt="Don Pedro restrains Don Luis from attacking Belflor" />
</div>
<p>"Signor," replied Don Pedro, "be more just towards your
son. Call him not despicable or mean—he merits not those
odious appellations. The Count this night saved my life. He
proposed to me, in ignorance of my real name, to accompany<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span>
him here; and I freely consented to share the perils he might
run, without knowing that my gratitude imprudently engaged
my arm against the honour of my family. My word is passed,
then, here to defend his life; that done, I stand acquitted of
my obligation towards him: but I am not the less insensible
of the wrong that he has done to you and to us all; and to-morrow
you shall find that I will as readily shed his blood,
as you behold me now determined to preserve it from your
hands."</p>
<p>The Count had witnessed in silence all that passed, so much
was he surprised at this extraordinary adventure; he now,
however, thus addressed the Student: "It is possible that the
injury I have inflicted might be but imperfectly avenged by your
sword; I will, therefore, present to you a means much more
certain of repairing it. I will confess to you that, until this
day, I did not intend to marry Leonora; but I this morning
received from her a letter which touched my heart, and her
tears have finished what her letter began. The happiness of
being united to your sister is now my dearest hope." "But if
the King has destined you for another," said Don Luis, "how
can you dispense——?" "The King has not troubled himself
upon the subject," interrupted Belflor, blushing: "pardon, I
beseech you, that fiction, to a man whose reason was deranged
by love; it is a crime that the violence of my passion incited
me to commit, and which I expiate in avowing to you my
shame."</p>
<p>"Signor," replied the old man, "after this frankness, which
belongs only to noble minds, I cannot doubt your sincerity. I
see, with joy, that you are anxious to repair the injury you have
done us; my anger yields to this assurance of your contrition;
I will forget it for ever in your arms." He advanced towards<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span>
the Count, who rushed to meet him, and they embraced each
other cordially. Then, turning towards Don Pedro, "And
you, false Don Juan," said Belflor,—"you, who have already
gained my esteem by your valour, come, let me vow to you a
brother's love." Don Pedro received the Count's embraces
with a submissive and respectful air, saying, "Signor, in offering
to me so valuable a friendship, you secure mine for yourself:
rely on me, as one devoted to your service to the last moment
of his life."</p>
<p>While these cavaliers were thus discoursing, Leonora was at
the door of her chamber, intently listening to every syllable
they uttered. She had been, at the first, tempted to discover
herself, and to throw herself in the midst of their swords; but
fear, and Marcella, had withheld her. But when the adroit
duenna saw that matters were arranging very amicably, she
guessed that the presence of her mistress, and her own, would
spoil nothing. Accordingly, she appeared, her handkerchief
in one hand and her ward in the other; and, with tears in their
eyes, they prostrated themselves before Don Luis. Neither of
them, indeed, felt perfectly assured; for they recollected the
surprise of the previous night, and feared the old man's reproaches
for this renewal of their disobedience. However,
raising Leonora,—"My child," said he, "dry your tears; I
will not upbraid you now: since your lover is disposed to keep
the faith he has sworn to you, it is fitting that I should forget
the past."</p>
<p>"Yes, Signor Don Luis," interrupted Belflor, "I will indeed
keep my faith with Leonora; and as some amends for the insult
I had intended, as the fullest satisfaction I can give to you, and
as a pledge of that friendship I have vowed to Don Pedro, I
offer him in marriage my sister Eugenia." "Signor!" cried<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>
Don Luis, "how can I express my satisfaction at the honour
you confer upon my son? Was ever father happier than myself?
You overpay me, in joy, for the grief you have caused me."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 269px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic06.png" width="269" height="198" alt="Don Luis raises Leonora" />
</div>
<p>Though the old man was charmed with the Count's proposals,
I cannot say as much for his son. Being sincerely taken with
love for his incognita, he was so overcome with surprise and
chagrin at Belflor's offer, that he had not a word to say for
himself; when the latter, who did not observe his embarrassment,
took leave, stating that he should at once order the
necessary preparations for this double union, and that he was
impatient to be bound to them eternally, by ties so endearing.</p>
<p>After his departure, Don Luis left Leonora with the duenna,
taking with him his son, who, when they had reached his father's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>
apartment, said, with all the frankness of a student: "Signor,
do not insist, I pray you, on my marriage with the Count's
sister; it is enough for the honour of our family, that he should
espouse Leonora." "What! my son," replied the old man,
"can you have any objection to an union with Eugenia de
Belflor?" "Yes, my father," said Don Pedro; "I must
confess to you, that union would prove to me the most cruel of
punishments; and I will not disguise from you the reason. I
love, or, rather, I adore another: for the last six months she
has listened to my vows: and now, on her alone depends the
happiness of my life."</p>
<p>"How miserable is the condition of a father!" exclaimed
Don Luis: "how rarely does he find his children disposed to
do as he desires them. But who is this lady that has made
such deep impression on your heart?" "That, I do not yet
know," replied Don Pedro. "She has promised to inform me
of her name when I shall have satisfied her of my constancy
and discretion; but I doubt not she does honour to one of the
noblest houses of Spain."</p>
<p>"And you think then," said the old man, changing his tone,
"that I shall be so obliging as to sanction this romantic love!—that
I shall permit you to renounce an alliance, as glorious
as fortune could offer to you, that you may remain faithful to
an illustrious lady of whose very name you are ignorant! Do
not expect so much of my kindness. No, rather strive to
vanquish feelings that are inspired by an object which is most
probably unworthy of them; and seek, in so doing, to merit
the honour which the Count proposes for you." "You speak
to me in vain, my father," replied the Student; "I feel that I
can never forget her whom I have sworn to love—unknown
though she be,—and that nothing can tear me from her. Were<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>
the Infanta proposed to me——" "Hold!" cried the old
man angrily; "it is too much to boast thus insolently of a constancy
which excites my displeasure: leave me, and let me not
see you again until you are prepared to obey my will."</p>
<p>Don Pedro did not dare to reply to these words, for fear
of hearing others more unpleasant still; so he retired to his
chamber, where he passed the remainder of the night in reflections
in which sorrow was not all unmixed with joy. He
thought with grief that he was about to estrange himself from
his family, by refusing the hand of Belflor's sister; but then he
was consoled, when he reflected that his incognita would worthily
esteem the greatness of the sacrifice. He even flattered himself
that, after so convincing a proof of his fidelity, she would
no longer conceal from him her station, which he imagined also
must be equal at least to that of Eugenia.</p>
<p>In this hope, as soon as day appeared, he went out, and
directed his steps towards the Prado, that he might pass away
the time until the hour of his meeting with his mistress. With
what impatience did he count the minutes as they lingered,—with
what joy did he hail the happy moment when it arrived!</p>
<p>He found his fair unknown with Donna Juanna, the lady at
whose house they met; but alas, he found her in tears, and
apparently in the deepest affliction. What a sight for a lover!
His own grief was forgotten: he approached her with tenderness;
and throwing himself on his knees before her, "Madam,"
he exclaimed, "what must I think of the condition in which I
see you? What dreadful misfortune do these tears, which
pierce my heart, forbode?" "You dream not," she replied,
"of the fatal news I bring you. Cruel fortune is about to
separate us for ever;—yes! we shall meet no more."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 242px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic07.png" width="242" height="255" alt="Don Pedro kneels before his fair unknown" />
</div>
<p>She accompanied these words with so many and such heart-rending<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>
sighs, that I know not if Don Pedro was more affected
at what she told him, than at the affliction with which she
appeared oppressed in telling it. "Just Heaven!" he cried, in
a transport of fury, which he could not control, "is it thy will
that they prevent an union whose innocence is worthy of thy
protection? But, Madam," he continued, "you are perhaps
falsely alarmed! Is it certain that they would snatch you from
the most faithful of lovers? Can it be possible that I should
be so unhappy?" "Our misfortune is but too certain," answered<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span>
the Unknown; "my brother, upon whom my hand depends,
has bestowed it this very day; he has this moment announced
to me his decision." "And who is the happy man?" exclaimed
Don Pedro. "Tell me! In my despair I will seek him, and——"
"I do not know his name," interrupted the Unknown. "I
cared not to ask, nor did my brother inform me; he told
me indeed that it was his wish that I should first see the
cavalier."</p>
<p>"But, Madam," said Don Pedro, "will you then yield without
resistance to your brother's will? Will you be dragged to
the altar, without complaint? Will you go, a willing sacrifice,
and abandon me so easily? Alas! I have not hesitated to expose
myself to the anger of a father for love of you; nor could
his menaces for a moment shake my fidelity. No! nor threats,
nor persuasion, could move me to espouse another, although
the lady he proposed for me was one to whom I had hardly
dared aspire." "And who is this lady?" asked the Unknown.
"She is the sister of the Count de Belflor," replied the scholar.
"Ah, Don Pedro!" cried the Unknown, with extreme surprise,
"surely, you are mistaken; it cannot be she whom they propose
to you. What! Eugenia, the sister of Belflor? Are you
sure of what you say?" "Yes, Madam," replied the Student;
"the Count himself offered me her hand." "How!" cried
she, "is it possible that you are the cavalier for whom my
brother designs me?" "What do I hear?" cried the Student
in his turn, "is it possible that my incognita is the Count de
Belflor's sister?" "Yes, Don Pedro," replied Eugenia. "But
I can hardly believe it myself, at this moment; so difficult do I
find it to persuade myself of the happiness you assure to me."</p>
<p>Don Pedro now fell again at her feet, and seizing her hand,
he kissed it with all the transport that lovers only can feel who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span>
pass suddenly from the depths of despair to the highest pinnacle
of hope and joy. While he abandoned himself to the feelings
of his heart, Eugenia for the first time forgot her reserve, and
freely returned his caress—she felt that her love was sanctioned,
and gave, her lips where her heart had long been engaged.
"Alas!" said she, when her love could form itself into words,
"what tortures had my brother spared me, had he but here
named the husband of his choice! What aversion had I already
conceived for my future lord! Ah, my dear Don Pedro, how I
have hated you!" "Lovely Eugenia," replied he, "what charms
has that hatred for me now! I will endeavour to merit it by
adoring you for ever."</p>
<p>After the happy pair had exhausted love's vocabulary, and
the tumult of their hearts was somewhat calmed, Eugenia was
anxious to know by what means the Student had gained her
brother's friendship. Don Pedro did not conceal from her the
amours of the Count and his sister, and related all that had
passed the night before. It was for Eugenia an additional
pleasure to learn that Belflor was to marry the sister of her
own lover. Donna Juanna was too much interested in the welfare
of her friend not to partake of her joy for this happy event,
and warmly congratulated her, as also Don Pedro thereon. At
last the lovers separated, after having agreed that they should
not appear to know each other when they met before the Count
and Don Luis.</p>
<p>Don Pedro returned to his father, who, finding his son disposed
to obey him, was the more pleased, inasmuch as he attributed
this ready compliance to the firm manner in which he
had spoken to him overnight. They presently received a note
from Belflor, in which he informed them that he had obtained
the King's consent to his marriage, as also for that of his sister<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span>
with Don Pedro, on whom his Majesty had been pleased to confer
a considerable appointment. He added, so diligently had
his orders for the nuptials been executed, that everything was
arranged for their taking place on the following day; and he
came soon after they had received his letter, to confirm what
he had written, and to present to them his sister Eugenia.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
<img src="images/ch05pic08.png" width="263" height="204" alt="Belflor presents Eugenia" />
</div>
<p>Don Luis received the lady with every mark of affection,
and Leonora kissed her so much that her brother was almost
jealous—although, whatever he might feel, he managed to constrain
his love and delight, so as not to give the Count the least
suspicion of their intelligence.</p>
<p>As Belflor remarked his sister with great attention, he thought
he could discover, notwithstanding her reserve, which he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span>
attributed to modesty, that Don Pedro was by no means displeasing
to her. To be certain, however, he took an opportunity of
speaking to her aside, and drew from her an avowal of her
entire satisfaction. He then informed her of the name and
rank of her intended, which he would not before communicate,
lest the inequality of the stations should prejudice her against
him; all which she feigned, marvellously well, to hear as for
the first time.</p>
<p>At last, after many compliments, which were remarkable for
their sincerity, it was resolved that the weddings should take
place at the house of Don Luis the next day, as Belflor had
arranged. They were accordingly celebrated this evening, the
rejoicing still continues, and now you know why they are so
merry in that house. Every one is delighted—except the lady
Marcella: she, while all else are laughing, is at this moment in
tears. They are real tears too, this time! for the Count de
Belflor, after the ceremony, informed Don Luis of the facts
which preceded it; and the old gentleman has sent the duenna
to the <i>Monasterio de las Arrepentidas</i>, where the thousand pistoles
she received for seducing Leonora will enable her to
repent having done so for the rest of her days.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 184px;">
<img src="images/ch05tailpiece.png" width="184" height="176" alt="talilpiece of a gentleman in a landscape with a tower" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER VI.</h5>
<h4>NEW OBJECTS DISPLAYED TO DON CLEOPHAS; AND HIS REVENGE
ON DONNA THOMASA.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialt.png" width="75" height="78" alt="T" />
</div>
<p>The Demon now directed the Student's attention to
another part of the city. "You see," he continued,
"that house which is directly under us:
it contains something curious enough,—a man
loaded with debt and sleeping profoundly." "Of course then,"
said Leandro, "he is a person of distinction?" "Precisely
so," answered Asmodeus: "he is a marquis, possessed of a
hundred thousand ducats per annum, but whose expenses,
nevertheless, exceed his income. His table and his mistresses
require that he should support them with credit, but that causes
him no anxiety; on the contrary, when he opens an account
with a tradesman, he thinks that the latter is indebted to him.
'It is you,' said he the other day to a draper, 'it is you, that I
shall henceforth trust with the execution of my orders; it is a
preference which you owe to my esteem.'</p>
<p>"While the marquis enjoys so tranquilly the sweet repose of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span>
which he deprives his creditors, look at a man who——"
"Stay, Signor Asmodeus," interrupted Don Cleophas hastily;
"I perceive a carriage in the street, and cannot let it pass
without asking what it contains." "Hush," said the Cripple,
lowering his voice, as though he feared he should be heard:—"learn
that that vehicle conceals one of the most dignified
personages in this kingdom, a president, who is going to amuse
himself with an elderly lady of Asturia, who is devoted to his
pleasures. That he may not be known, he has taken the
precaution of imitating Caligula, who on a similar occasion
disguised himself in a wig.</p>
<p>"But,—to return to the picture I was about to present to
your sight when you interrupted me,—observe, in the very
highest part of the mansion, where sleeps the marquis, a man
who is writing in a chamber filled with books and manuscripts."
"He is probably," said Zambullo, "the steward, labouring to
devise some means for discharging his master's obligations."
"Excellent," exclaimed the Devil; "that, indeed, forms a great
part of the amusement of such gentry in the service of noblemen!
They seek rather to profit from derangement of their
masters' affairs than to put them in order. He is not, then, the
steward whom you see; he is an author: the marquis keeps him
in his house, to obtain the reputation of a patron of literature."
"This author," replied Don Cleophas, "is apparently a man
of eminence." "Judge for yourself!" replied the Demon.
"He is surrounded by a thousand volumes, and is composing
one, on Natural History, in which there will not be a line of
his own. He pillages these books and manuscripts without
mercy; and, although he does nothing but arrange and connect
his larcenies, he has more vanity than the most original
writer upon earth.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 259px;">
<img src="images/ch06pic01.png" width="259" height="290" alt="The author at work" />
</div>
<p>"You are not aware," continued the Spirit, "who lives three
doors from this mansion: it is La Chichona, the very lady
who acted so honourable a part in the story of the Count de
Belflor." "Ah!" said Leandro, "I am delighted to behold
her. The dear creature, so considerate for youth, is doubtless
one of the two old ladies whom I perceive in that room. One
of them is leaning with both her elbows on the table, looking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span>
attentively at the other, who is counting out some money.
Which of them is La Chichona?" "Not the one who is
counting," said the Demon; "her name is La Pebrada, and
she is a distinguished member of the same profession: they
are, indeed, partners; and are at this moment dividing the
profits of an adventure which, by their assistance, has terminated
favourably.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
<img src="images/ch06pic02.png" width="263" height="273" alt="La Chichona and La Pebrada divide the profits" />
</div>
<p>"La Pebrada is the more successful of the two: she has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span>
among her clients several rich widows, who subscribe to her
daily register." "What do you mean by her register?" interrupted
the Student. "Why," replied Asmodeus, "it contains
the names of all handsome foreigners, and particularly Frenchmen,
who come to Madrid. The instant La Pebrada hears of
an arrival, away she posts to the hotel of the new comer, to
learn every particular as to his country, birth, parentage,
and education,—his age, form, and appearance, all which are
duly reported to her subscribers; and if, on reflection, the
heart of any of her widows is inclined to an acquaintance, she
adroitly manages a speedy interview with the stranger."</p>
<p>"That is extremely convenient," replied Zambullo, smiling,
"and in some sort very proper; for, in truth, without these
kind ladies and their agents, the youthful foreigner, who
comes without introductions to Madrid, would lose an immense
deal of time in gaining them. But, tell me, are there
in other countries widows as generous and women as intriguing?"
"Capital!" exclaimed the Devil—"if there are?
Why! can you doubt it? I should be unworthy of my demonship
if I neglected to provide all large towns with them in
plenty."</p>
<p>"Cast your eyes upon Chichona's neighbour,—yon printer,
who is working at his press, alone. He has dismissed the
devils in his employ these three hours; and he is now engaged,
for the night, on a work which he is printing privately." "Ah!
what may it be?" said Leandro. "It treats of insults," replied
the Demon; "and endeavours to prove that Religion is preferable
to Honour; and that it is better to pardon than to avenge
an affront." "Oh! the scoundrel!" exclaimed the Student
"Well may he print in secret his infamous book. Its author
had better not acknowledge his production: I would be one of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>
the first to answer it with a horsewhip. What! can Religion
forbid the preservation of one's honour?"</p>
<p>"Let us not discuss that point," interrupted Asmodeus, with
a malicious smile. "It appears that you have made the most
of the lectures on morality you listened to at Alcala; and I
give you joy of the result." "You may say what you please,"
interrupted Cleophas in his turn, "and so may the writer of
this wretched absurdity: but though his reasonings were clear
as the noon-day sun, I should despise him and them. I am a
Spaniard, and nothing is to me so delightful as revenge; and,
by the by, since you have pledged yourself to satisfy me for the
perfidy of my mistress, I call on you at once to keep your
promise."</p>
<p>"I yield with pleasure," replied the Demon, "to the wrath
which agitates your breast. Oh! how I love those noble
spirits who follow without scruple the dictates of their passions!
I will obey your will at once; and indeed, the hour to avenge
your wrongs is come: but first I wish to show you something
which will amuse you vastly. Look beyond the printing-office,
and observe with attention what is passing in an apartment,
hung with drab cloth." "I perceive," said Leandro, "five or
six women, who are with eagerness offering phials of something
to a sort of valet, and they appear desperately agitated."</p>
<p>"They are," replied Asmodeus, "devotees, who have great
reason to be agitated. There is in the next room a sick
inquisitor. This venerable personage, who is about thirty-five
years old, is attended by two of his dearest penitents, with
untiring watchfulness. One is concocting his gruel, while the
other at his pillow is employed in keeping his head warm, and
is covering his stomach with a kind of blanket made of at least
fifty lamb-skins." "What on earth is the matter with him,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>
then?" asked Zambullo. "He has a cold in his head,"
answered the Devil; "and there is danger lest the disorder
should extend to his lungs."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch06pic03.png" width="264" height="221" alt="The inquisitor nursed by two penitents" />
</div>
<p>The ladies whom you see in his antechamber have hastened,
on the alarm of his indisposition, with all sorts of remedies.
One brings, to allay his apprehended cough, syrups of jujubes,
mallows, coral, and coltsfoot; another, to preserve the said
lungs of his reverence, syrups of long-life, speedwell, amaranth,
and the elixir vitæ; this one, to fortify his brain and stomach,
has brought balm, cinnamon, and treacle waters, besides gutta
vitæ, and the essences of nutmegs and ambergris; that offers
anacardine and bezoardic confections; while a fifth carries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>
tinctures of cloves, gilly-flowers, sunflowers, and of coral and
emeralds. All these zealous penitents are boasting to the
valet of the virtues of the medicines they offer; and each by
turns, drawing him aside, and slipping a ducat in his hand,
whispers in his ear: 'Laurence, my dear Laurence, manage
so, I beg of you, that what I bring for the dear man may
have the preference.'"</p>
<p>"By Jupiter!" cried Don Cleophas, "it must be allowed
that inquisitors—even sick inquisitors—are happy mortals." "I
can answer for that," replied Asmodeus; "I almost envy them
their lot, myself; and, like the son of Philip of Macedon, who
once said that he would have been Diogenes, if he had not
been Alexander, I can unhesitatingly say, that, if I were not a
devil I would be an inquisitor."</p>
<p>"But, Signor Student," continued he, "let us go! Let us
away, to punish the ingrate who so ill-requited your tenderness."
Zambullo instantly seized the end of the Demon's
cloak, and a second time was whirled with him through the
air, until they alighted on the house of Donna Thomasa.</p>
<p>This frail damsel was seated at table, with the four gentlemen
who, a few hours before, had so eagerly sought the acquaintance
of Don Cleophas on the roof of her house. He
trembled with rage, as he beheld them feasting on a brace of
partridges and a rabbit, which, with some choice wine, he had
sent to the traitress for his own supper; and, to add to his
mortification, he perceived that joy reigned in the repast; and
that it was evident, by the deportment of the lady, that the
company of these scoundrels was much more agreeable to her
than that of himself. "Oh! the wretches!" he cried, in a
perfect fury, "to see them enjoying themselves at my expense!
Vastly pleasant, is it not?"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p>
<p>"Why, I must confess," replied the Demon, "that you have
witnessed spectacles more pleasing; but he who rejoices in the
favours of such fair ones must expect to share them. This
sort of thing has happened a thousand times; especially in
France, among the abbés, the gentlemen of the long robe, and
the financiers." "If I had a sword, though," said Leandro, "I
would fall upon the villains, and spoil their sport for them."
"You would be hardly matched," replied the Demon;—"what
were one among so many? Leave your revenge to me! I
will manage it better than you could. I will soon set them
together by the ears, in inspiring each of them with a fit of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>
tenderness for your mistress: their swords will be out in no
time, and you will be delighted with the uproar."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch06pic04.png" width="264" height="232" alt="The guests quarrel over Donna Thomasa" />
</div>
<p>Asmodeus had no sooner spoken than he breathed forcibly,
and from his mouth issued a violet-coloured vapour which
descended tortuously, like a fiery serpent, and spread itself
round the table of Donna Thomasa. In an instant, one of her
guests, more inflammable than his companions, rose from his
seat, and, approaching the lady, embraced her amorously; when
the others, in whom the spirit had begun to work, hastened
together to snatch from him the dainty prize. Each claimed a
preference: words ensued; a jealous rage possessed them;
blows succeeded, and, as the Devil had foretold, they drew
their weapons and commenced a furious combat. In the
meanwhile Donna Thomasa exerted her lungs, and the neighbourhood
was speedily alarmed by her cries. They call for
the police; the police arrive: they break open the door, and
find two of the Hectors extended on the floor. They seize
upon the others, and take them with the Helen of the party
to prison. In vain did she weep; in vain did she tear her
locks, and exclaim in despair:—the tears of unfortunate beauty
had no more effect on the cavaliers who conducted her, than
they had on her former knight Zambullo, who almost died
with laughter, in which the god of love most unnaturally
joined him.</p>
<p>"Well!" said the Demon to the Student, "are you content?"
"No, no!" replied Don Cleophas; "to satisfy me in full,
place me upon the prison, that I may have the pleasure of beholding
in her dungeon, the miserable who trifled with my
love. I feel for her, now, a hatred which exceeds even the
affection with which she formerly inspired me." "Be it so!"
said the Devil; "you shall ever find me a slave to your will,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span>
though it interfered with mine and my interests,—provided
always, that it is safe to indulge you."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 193px;">
<img src="images/ch06pic05.png" width="193" height="136" alt="Donna Thomasa in prison" />
</div>
<p>They flew through the air, and were on the prison before
the officers arrived with their captives. The two assassins
were at once consigned to one of its lowest deeps, while
Thomasa was led to a bed of straw, which she was to share
with three or four other abandoned women, who had fallen
into the hands of justice the same day; and with whom she
was destined to be transported to the colonies, which a grateful
mother country generally endows with this description of
female inhabitants.</p>
<p>"I am satisfied," said Zambullo; "I have tasted a delicious
revenge: my dear Thomasa will not pass the night quite so
pleasantly as she had anticipated. So, now, if you please, we
will continue our observations." "We could not be in a better
place, then," replied the Spirit. "Within these walls is much
to interest you. Innocent and guilty, in somewhat equal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>
numbers, are here enclosed: it is the hell in which commences
the punishment of the one, and the purgatory in which the virtue
of the others may be purified,—you see I'm a good Catholic,
Signor Student! Of both of these species of prisoners I will
show you examples, and I will inform you why they are here
enfettered."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecestrapwork.png" width="200" height="97" alt="foliate strapwork tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER VII.</h5>
<h4>THE PRISON, AND THE PRISONERS.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiala.png" width="75" height="76" alt="A" />
</div>
<p>"And before I commence my memoirs, just observe
the gaolers at the entrance of this horrible
place. The poets of antiquity placed but one
Cerberus at the gate of their hell: there are
many more here, however, as you perceive. They are creatures
who have lost all the feelings of humanity, if they ever
possessed any;—the most malicious of my brethren could
hardly replace one of them. But I observe that you are looking
with horror on those cells whose only furniture consists
of a wretched bed,—those fearful dungeons appear to you so
many tombs. You are reasonably astonished at the misery
you behold; and you deplore the fate of those unhappy
persons whom the law restrains; still, they are not all equally
to be pitied; and I will enable you to distinguish between
them.</p>
<p>"To begin, in that large cell to the right are four men sleeping
in two beds; one of them is an innkeeper, accused of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span>
having poisoned a foreigner who died suddenly the other day
in his house. They assert that the deceased owed his death
to the quality of the wine he partook of; the host maintains,
that the quantity, alone, killed him: and the accused will be
believed, for the stranger was a German." "Well! who is in
the right, the innkeeper or his accusers?" said Don Cleophas.
"It is difficult to decide," replied the Devil "The wine was
certainly drugged; but, i' faith, the Baron drank so largely, that
the judges may for the nonce most conscientiously acquit a
tavern-keeper of poisoning his customer."</p>
<p>"His bedfellow is an assassin by profession;—not a soldier,
but one of those scoundrels who are called <i>Valientes</i>, and who
for four or five pistoles obligingly minister to all who will go
to so great an expense for the purpose of secretly ridding
themselves of some one to whom they owe an obligation.
The third prisoner is a dancing-master, who has been teaching one
of his female pupils a step not usually practised in genteel
society; and the fourth is an unlucky gallant caught by the
patrole in the act of entering, by the balcony, the apartment
of a lady, whom he was about to console for the absence of
her husband. He has only to declare the charitable object of
his visit, to withdraw himself from the hands of justice; but
he nobly prefers to suffer as a robber, rather than endanger
the reputation of his mistress."</p>
<p>"He is a model of discretion, indeed," said the Student;
"but it must be allowed that the cavaliers of Spain excel
those of all other nations in affairs of gallantry; I would bet
anything that a Frenchman, for example, would never permit
himself to be hanged under similar circumstances." "And I
would back you for that," answered the Devil; "he would
rather scale the balcony of a lady, of whose favours he could<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>
boast, in broad day-light, for the express purpose of proclaiming
her disgrace."</p>
<p>"In a cell near that of the four men I have just spoken of,"
continued Asmodeus, "is a celebrated witch, who enjoys the
reputation of doing all impossible things. By the power of her
magic, old dowagers can find, they say, youthful admirers who
will love them for their bloom; husbands are rendered faithful
to their wives; and coquettes sincerely devoted to the rich
fools who keep them: all which is, I need not tell you, absurd
enough. Her only secret is in persuading people that she has
one, and in making the most of that opinion. The Holy
Office is jealous of the poor creature, so have called her to
account; and she is likely to be burnt at the first <i>aúto de fé</i>."</p>
<p>"Under this cell, in a dark dungeon, lodges a young tavern
keeper."—"What! another?" cried Leandro,—"surely these
people are going to poison all the world." "Mine host, in
this case," replied Asmodeus, "will not suffer for his wine;
it is for an illegal traffic in spirits that he was arrested yesterday,
at the instance of the Holy Office also. I will explain
the matter to you in a few words.</p>
<p>"An old soldier, having risen by his courage, or rather by his
patience, to the rank of serjeant, came to Madrid in search of
recruits, and demanded a lodging in a tavern to which he was
directed by his billet. The host told the serjeant that he certainly
had spare rooms in his house, but that he could not
think of putting him into any one of them, as they were
haunted by a ghost who visited them nightly, and most shockingly
ill-treated those who had the temerity to occupy them.
The serjeant was not however to be daunted: 'Place me,' said
he, 'in any room you please; give me a light, some wine, a
pipe and tobacco, and never trouble yourself for my safety;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span>
ghosts, depend upon it, have the highest respect for an old
campaigner, whose hairs have whitened under arms.'</p>
<p>"As he appeared so resolute, they showed the old soldier to
a chamber, gave him all he had required; and he began to
smoke and drink at his ease. The hour of midnight sounded,
but no ghost appeared to disturb the profound silence that
reigned throughout the house; it seemed as though the spirit
did indeed respect the valiant bearing of his new guest: but,
between one and two o'clock, the wakeful sentinel was alarmed
by a horrible din, as of rattling chains, and beheld, entering
his apartment, a fearful spectre, clothed in black, and enveloped
with iron chains. Our old smoker, not in the least alarmed
at this spectacle, rose calmly from his chair, advanced towards
the spirit, drew his sword, and gave him with the flat side of
it, a terrible blow on the head.</p>
<p>"The phantom, unaccustomed to find such courageous
tenants in his domain, and perceiving that the soldier was preparing
to repeat the blow, fell upon his knees before him,
crying out,—'Pardon, signor serjeant; for the love of Heaven,
do not kill me: have pity upon a poor devil, who throws
himself at your feet to implore your clemency. I conjure you
by St James, who, like yourself, was a valiant soldier——' 'If
you would preserve your life,' interrupted the serjeant,
'tell me who you are, and what you do here. Speak the truth,—or,
by our Lady, I will cut you in two, as the knights of old
split the giants they encountered.' At these words, the spirit,
finding with whom he had to do, saw that he had better lose
no time in his explanation.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic01.png" width="266" height="291" alt="William kneels before the serjeant" />
</div>
<p>"'I am,' said he, 'the head-waiter of this inn; my name is
William; and I love Juanilla, the only daughter of the landlord,
and I do not love without return; but as her parents<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>
have a better match in view, my sweetheart and myself have
arranged that, in order to compel them to choose me for their
son-in-law, I shall nightly disguise myself in this manner. I
clothe myself in a long black cloak, and put the jack-chain
round my neck; and, thus equipped, I go about the house,
from the cellar to the garret, making all the noise I can, of
which you have heard a specimen. When I arrive at the door<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span>
of my master and mistress's bed-room, I rattle my chains, and
cry loud enough for them to hear,—"Hope not to rest in
peace, until you have married Juanilla to your head-waiter,
William!"'</p>
<p>"'After having pronounced these words in a hoarse and
broken voice, I continue my clatter, and vanish by a window
into the chamber where Juanilla sleeps alone, to inform her of
what I have done. And now, signor serjeant, you may be
assured that I have told you the whole truth. I know that
after this confession you may ruin me, by informing my master
of the affair; but if, instead of thus injuring me, you are inclined
to serve me, I swear that my gratitude——' 'Ah!'
interrupted the soldier, 'what service can you hope from me?'
'You have only in the morning,' replied the young man, 'to
say that you have seen the ghost, and that it has so terribly
frightened you,——' 'What, the deuce! frightened me!'
again interrupted the old warrior; 'do you expect that Serjeant
Hannibal Antonio Quebrantador is going to say that he
was frightened? I would rather say that a hundred thousand
devils had me——' 'That is not absolutely necessary,' in his
turn interrupted William; 'and after all, it is of no great consequence
what you say, provided that you but assist me in my
design: only let me marry Juanilla, and see myself established
by the assistance of her father, and I promise to keep open
house for you and all your friends.'</p>
<p>"'You are a regular seducer, master William,' cried the
soldier; 'you want to join me in a downright cheat: the
matter may be serious, and you take it so lightly, as to make
me, even, tremble for the consequences. But away with you!
continue your infernal noise, and go to Juanilla to render your
account: I will manage the rest.'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic02.png" width="266" height="270" alt="The serjeant speaks to his host and hostess" />
</div>
<p>"Accordingly, on the following morning, the serjeant said
to his host and hostess: 'Well! I have seen the ghost, conversed
with it, and found it very civil and reasonable.' "I am,"
said he to me, "the great-great-grandfather of the master of
this house. I had a daughter, whom I solemnly promised to
the father of master William's grandfather: nevertheless, despite
my pledge, I gave her hand to another, and died shortly afterwards.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>
Ever since then, I have remained in purgatory, suffering
for this perjury; and I shall continue in torment until some
one of my descendants has married into the family of the head
waiter. To accomplish this, I come here nightly; but it is in
vain that I command them to unite Juanilla and young William,—the
son of my grandchild turns a deaf ear to my entreaties,
as well as his wife; but tell them, if you please, signor serjeant,
that if they do not as I desire of them soon, I shall come to
extremities with them, and will plague them both in a way they
little dream of."'</p>
<p>"The host, who is simple enough, was somewhat shaken by
this discourse; but the hostess, still more silly than her husband,
was so much affected by it, that she fancied she already
saw the ghost at her heels, and at once consented to the match,
which took place on the following day. William shortly afterwards
took an inn in another part of the town, and serjeant
Quebrantador failed not to visit him frequently. The new
tavern-keeper at first, out of gratitude, filled him with wine at
discretion; which so pleased the old moustache, that he took
all his friends to the house: he even there enrolled his recruits,
and made them drunk at the host's expense.</p>
<p>"At last, therefore, master William became tired of constantly
wetting so many parching throats; but, on communicating his
ideas upon the subject to the serjeant, the latter, with a disregard
of his own infraction of their treaty which would have fitted him
to command an army, was unjust enough to accuse mine host
of ingratitude. William replied, the other rejoined, and the
conversation ended, as their first had begun, with a blow of
the serjeant's long sword on the thick head of the unfortunate
tavern-keeper. Some passers-by naturally sided with the civilian:
of these Quebrantador wounded three or four; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span>
his wrath was yet unsatisfied, when he was suddenly assailed
by a host of archers, who arrested him as a disturber of the
peace. They conducted him to prison, where he declared all
that I have told you; and upon his deposition the ex-head-waiter
was encaged also. His father-in-law demands a divorce;
and the Holy Office, hearing that William has acquired some
considerable property, has kindly undertaken to investigate the
matter."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic03.png" width="264" height="252" alt="The serjeant is restrained from attacking William" />
</div>
<p>"Egad!" cried Don Cleophas, "our holy inquisition is ever
alive to its interests. No sooner do they light upon a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
profitable——" "Softly!" interrupted the devil, "have a care how
you launch out against that tribunal:—for it, the very walls
have ears. They echo even words that the mouth has never
spoken; and for myself, I hardly dare to mention it without
trembling."</p>
<p>"Over the unfortunate William, in the first chamber to the
left, are two men worthy of your pity; one of them is a
youthful valet, whom his master's wife privately indulged with
the use of more than her husband's clothes. One day, however,
the husband surprised them together; when the lady
immediately began crying out for help, and accused the valet
of having violated her person. The poor fellow was arrested,
of course; and, according to appearances, will be sacrificed to
his mistress's reputation. His companion, still less guilty than
the valet, is also about to pay the forfeit of his life. He was
footman to a duchess who has been robbed of a valuable
diamond, which they accuse him of having taken. He will be
to-morrow put to the torture, until the rack wrings from him
a confession of the theft; and in the meanwhile the lady's
maid, who is the real culprit, and whom no one dares to suspect,
will moralise with the duchess on the depravity of
modern servants."</p>
<p>"Ah! Signor Asmodeus," said Leandro, "let not the
wretched footman perish, I entreat you! His innocence interests
me for his life. Save him, by your power, from the
unjust and cruel torture they would inflict: he deserves——"
"You cannot expect it, Signor Student!" interrupted the
demon. "What! do you suppose that I would prevent injustice?—that
I would snatch the guiltless from destruction? As well
might you pray an attorney to desist from the ruin of the widow
or the orphan!"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p>
<p>"Oh! and it please you," added the Devil, "expect not of
me that which is contrary to my interest, unless indeed it be of
great advantage to yourself. Besides, were I willing to deliver
yonder prisoner from bondage, how could I effect it?" "How!"
repeated Zambullo, "do you mean to say that you have not
the power so to do?" "Certainly," replied the Cripple.
"Had you read the Enchiridion, or Albertus Magnus, you
would know that neither I, nor any of my brethren, can
liberate a prisoner from his cell: even I, were I so unfortunate
as to be within the talons of the law, could only hope to escape
by bribing my jailer, or my judges.</p>
<p>"In the next room, on the same side, lodges a surgeon
convicted of having, in a fit of jealousy, drained the warm
blood which wantoned in the veins of his handsome wife,
after the model of the death of Seneca. He was yesterday
tenderly questioned on the rack; and having confessed the
crime of which he was accused, he let out the secrets of his
profession, by detailing a very novel and interesting mode
which he had especially adopted for increasing his practice.
He stated that he had been in the habit of wounding persons
in the street with a bayonet, and of then lancing himself into his
house by a back-door. Of course the patient used to call out
lustily at this unexpected operation; and as the neighbours
flocked around at his cries, the surgeon, mingling with the
crowd, and finding a man bathed in his blood, very charitably
had him carried to his shop, and dressed the wound with the
same hand that had given it.</p>
<p>"Although the rascally practitioner has confessed to this
atrocity, for which a thousand deaths were not one too many,
he still hopes that his life will be spared; and it is not improbable
that it may be so, seeing that he is related to the lady<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>
who has the honour of clouting the little princes of Spain:
besides which, he is the inventor of a marvellous wash, of
which the secret would die with him, and which has the virtues
of whitening the skin, and of giving to the wrinkled front the
juvenile appearance of fifteen. Now, as this incomparable
water serves as the fountain of youth to three ladies of the
palace, who have united their efforts to save him, he relies so
confidently on their credit at court, or rather on that of his
wash, that he sleeps tranquilly in the soothing hope that he
will awaken to the agreeable intelligence of his pardon."</p>
<p>"I perceive, upon a bed in the same room," said the Student,
"another man, who appears to me to be sleeping peaceably
enough; his business is not a very bad one, I expect." "It
is a very ticklish affair, though," replied the Demon. "That
cavalier is a gentleman of Biscay, who has enriched himself by
the fire of a carbine: I will tell you how. About a fortnight
ago, shooting in a forest with his elder and only brother, who
was in possession of a large estate, he killed him, by mistake,
instead of a partridge." "A very lucky mistake, that," cried
Don Cleophas, laughing, "for a younger son." "Yes," replied
Asmodeus: "but a collateral branch of the family, the
members of which would have no objection to see the
deceased's estate fall within their line, have disinterestedly
prosecuted his murderer on the charge of having designedly
shot him, that he might succeed to his property. The accused,
however, immediately rendered himself into the hands of
justice; and he appears to be so deeply afflicted by the death of
his brother, that they can scarcely imagine him guilty of deliberately
taking his life." "And has he really nothing with which
to reproach himself, beyond his fatal awkwardness?" asked
Leandro. "No," replied Asmodeus; "his design was innocent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>
enough; but when an elder son is in possession of all the
wealth of his family, I should certainly not advise him to make
a shooting-party in company with his younger brother.</p>
<p>"Observe attentively those two youths who, in a retreat near
to that of the fatal shot, are conversing as merrily as though
they were at liberty. They are a pair of veritable <i>picaros;</i>
and there is one, especially, who may some day amuse the
public with one of those details of roguery which never fail to
delight it. He is a modern Guzman d'Alfarache: it is he who
wears the brown velvet vest, and has a plume of feathers in
his hat.</p>
<p>"Not three months since, in this very town, he was page to
the Count d'Onato; and he would still have been in the suite
of that nobleman but for a little piece of rascality, which gained
for him his present lodging, and which I will narrate to you.</p>
<p>"One day, this youth, whose name is Domingo, received a
hundred lashes, which the Count's intendant, otherwise governor
of the pages, directed to be bestowed on him as a
reward for some trick which appeared to deserve it. Domingo
was, however, impatient under such a load of obligation; and
so, proudly resolved to return it on the first opportunity. He
had remarked more than once that the Signor Don Como, as
the intendant styled himself, delighted to wash his hands with
orange-flower water, and to anoint himself with pastes redolent
of the pink or jessamine; that he was more careful of his
person than an old coquette, and that, in short, he was one of
those coxcombs who imagine that no woman of taste can
behold them without loving them. These observations inspired
Domingo with a scheme for revenge, which he communicated
to a young waiting-woman who resided in the neighbourhood,
whose assistance he required for the execution of his project,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
and in whose favour he stood so high that she had none left to
grant him.</p>
<p>"This damsel, called Floretta, in order to have the pleasure
of an unrestrained intercourse with the page, introduced him
as her cousin into the house of Donna Luziana, her mistress,
whose father was at that time absent from Madrid. The
cunning Domingo, after having informed his pretended relative
of her part in his design, going one morning into the apartment
of Don Como, found my gentleman trying on a new dress,
looking with complacency at his figure in a mirror, and
evidently by no means displeased with its reflection. The
page affected to be struck with admiration of this Narcissus,
and exclaimed, in well-feigned transport: 'Upon my honour,
Signor Don Como, you have the air of royalty itself. I see,
daily, nobles richly clad; but notwithstanding the elegance
and splendour of their vestments, I discern in none that dignity
of mien which distinguishes you. I will not assert,' added he,
'that with the respect I have for you, I may not regard you with
eyes somewhat prepossessed in your favour; but this I can say,
that I know of no cavalier at court whom you would not
totally eclipse.'</p>
<p>"The intendant smiled at this discourse, which offered so
agreeable a tribute to his vanity, and graciously replied:—'You
flatter me, my friend; or rather, as you say, you esteem me so
highly, that your friendship endows me with graces that nature
has refused.' 'I cannot think so,' replied the parasite; 'for
there is no one who does not speak of you in terms which I
dare not repeat, lest you should think I flattered you indeed.
I wish you had heard what was said to me yesterday by one of
my cousins, who is in the service of a lady of quality.'</p>
<p>"Don Como failed not to ask what it was that Domingo's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>
cousin had said of him. 'Why,' replied the page, 'I ought
hardly to tell you; but she enlarged on the majesty of your
figure,—on the charms which are everywhere visible in your
person; and, what is better, she told me, in confidence, that
the greatest delight of Donna Luziana, her mistress, is to
watch for your passing her house, and to feast her eyes with
beholding you.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 259px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic04.png" width="259" height="279" alt="The page flattering Don Como" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
<p>"'And who is this lady?' said the intendant,—'where does
she live?' 'What!' replied Domingo; 'do you not know the
only daughter of general Don Fernando, our neighbour?'
'Ah! to be sure I do,' replied Don Como: 'I remember to
have frequently heard of the wealth and surpassing beauty of
this Luziana; she is not to be despised. But is it possible
that I can have attracted her attention?' 'Can you doubt
it?' exclaimed the page. 'Besides, my own cousin told me
of the fact; and, though in a humble situation, she is incapable
of falsehood, and I would answer for her word with my life.'
'In that case,' said the intendant, 'I should be glad to have a
little private conversation with your relative, to engage her in
my interest by the customary trifling presents to which her
situation entitles her; and if she should advise me to pay
court to her mistress, egad! I'll try my fortune. And why
not? It is true that there is some difference between my rank
and that of Don Fernando; but still I am a gentleman, and
have a good four hundred ducats per annum. There are more
extraordinary matches than this made every day.'</p>
<p>"The page fortified his governor in his resolution, and procured
for him an interview with his cousin; who, finding the
intendant disposed to swallow anything, assured him of her
mistress's inclination in his favour. 'You have no idea,' said
she, 'how often Luziana has questioned me as to the handsome
cavalier who had made such an impression on her heart; and
you may be sure that my replies were neither unpleasing to
her, nor unfavourable to you: in short, Signor, she loves you;
and you have everything to hope from her affection. Seek
then her hand, openly and without hesitation; justify her
secret passion, by showing that she loves a cavalier, not only
the most charming and well-made, but the most gallant, of all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
Madrid. Give her, in serenades, the delightful assurance that
your heart responds to hers; and rely on me to picture your
devotion in the most pleasing colours,—an office as agreeable
to myself as I hope it will be useful to you.' Don Como,
transported with joy at finding the maid so warmly disposed
to serve him, almost stifled her with his caresses; and, placing
a worthless ring upon her finger, which he had liberally purchased
of a Jew, and which had served the same purpose fifty
times, he exclaimed,—'Dearest Floretta! accept this ring as an
earnest of my gratitude, until I have an opportunity of more
worthily recompensing the favours you are about to shower
on me.'</p>
<p>"Never was lover in greater ecstacy than was our intendant
at the result of his conversation with Floretta; and as he was
indebted to Domingo for this happiness, the page not only
received his thanks, but was rewarded by the magnificent
present of a pair of silk stockings, some shirts trimmed with
lace, and a promise of the Signor's losing no opportunity which
might offer for promoting his interests. 'My dear friend,' said
he, on leaving Floretta, 'what is your opinion of the steps I
should take in this matter? Do you think I should commence
with an impassioned and sublime epistle to my Luziana?'
'Decidedly,' replied the page. 'Make her a declaration of
your love in fitting terms: I have a presentiment that it will
not be badly received.' 'Well! I think so too,' replied the
intendant; 'at all events, I will try the experiment.' Accordingly,
down he sat to compose the missive; and after having
torn in pieces at least fifty scrawls, which would have made
the fortune of a German romancist, he at last succeeded in
composing a billet-doux which satisfied his scruples. It was
conceived in the following grandiloquent and affecting terms:—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span></p>
<blockquote>
<p>"'Months have rolled like centuries, oh! lovely Luziana,
since, inspired by the renown which everywhere proclaims your
perfections, my too-sensible soul has yielded to the flames of
love, to burn for you alone! My heart consumed in secret, a
willing prey to the fires that devoured me; and I never dared
proclaim my sufferings to you, much less to seek for consolation.
But a happy chance has recently revealed the soothing
secret that, from behind the jealous screen which conceals your
celestial charms from the eyes of men, you sometimes deign to
look with pity on me as I pass;—that, directed by the divinity
who guards you, and the destiny of your star,—oh, happy
star for me!—you even think of me with kindness. I hasten
then in all humility to consecrate my life unto your service;
and should I be so fortunate as to obtain permission so to do,
to renounce in your favour all ladies past, or present, or to
come.</p>
<p>"'<span class="smcap">Don Como de la Higuera</span>.'</p></blockquote>
<p>"Domingo and Floretta were not a little amused, on the
receipt of this letter, at the expense of the poor intendant.
But, not contented with the folly they had already induced
him to commit, they set their wits to work to compose an
answer to the billet which should be sufficiently tender. This
done, it was copied by Floretta, and delivered by the page on
the following day to Don Como. It was in these words:—</p>
<blockquote>
<p>"'I know not who can have so well informed you of my
secret sentiments. Some one has however betrayed me. Still,
I pardon the treachery, since, to it I owe an avowal of your
love. I see many pass before my window, but I look with
pleasure upon you alone; and I am too happy to find that I
am dear to you. Perhaps I am wrong to feel this delight, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>
still more wrong to dare to tell you so. If it be a fault in me,
your virtues have caused, and must excuse it.</p>
<p>"'<span class="smcap">Donna Luziana</span>.'</p></blockquote>
<p>"Although this letter was rather too warm for the daughter
of a Spanish general, as its authors had not thought much
about ceremony, the presumptuous Don Como received it
without suspicion. He thought sufficiently well of himself to
imagine that for him a lady might well forget somewhat of the
usages of society. 'Ah! Domingo,' he cried, with an air of
triumph, after having read the letter aloud, 'you see, my friend,
that the fish bites. Congratulate me! I shall soon be son-in-law
to Don Fernando, or my name's not Don Como de la
Higuera.'</p>
<p>"'It is beyond a doubt,' said the rascally confidant; 'you
seem to have made a tremendous impression on the girl. But,
à-propos,' added he, 'I must not forget to tell you that my
cousin particularly desired me to say, that to-morrow, at latest,
you should serenade your mistress, in order to complete her
infatuation.' 'I will on no account omit it,' replied the intendant.
'You may assure your cousin that I will in all things
follow her advice; and that to-morrow, without fail, in the
middle of the night, the street shall resound with one of the
most gallant concerts that was ever heard in Madrid.' And
away went the intendant to secure the assistance of a celebrated
musician, to whom he communicated his project, and whom he
charged with the care of its execution.</p>
<p>"In the meanwhile, Floretta, informed of the intended
serenade, and finding her mistress in a desirable mood, said
to her,—'Madam, I am preparing for you an agreeable diversion.'
'What may that be?' asked Luziana. 'Why,' replied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>
the waiting-maid, laughing until the tears ran from her eyes,
'there is much to amuse you. An original, one Don Como,
governor of the pages of the Count d'Onato, has taken it into
his head to choose you as the sovereign lady of his thoughts;
and he intends, to-morrow, in order that you may no longer
remain ignorant of his devotion, to gratify you with the sound
of music and sweet voices, in an evening serenade.' Donna
Luziana, whose composition was none of the most grave, and
who was far from foreseeing an unpleasant consequence to her
in the gallantries of the intendant, instead of regarding the
matter seriously, was delighted at the anticipated tribute to her
charms; and thus, without knowing what she did, assisted in
confirming the amorous Don Como in an illusion, of which
it would have shocked her greatly to have been supposed
designedly the author.</p>
<p>"The night came, and with it appeared, before the balcony of
the lady, two carriages, from which descended the gallant Como
and his confidant, accompanied by six musicians, vocal and
instrumental, who commenced a very decent concert, which
lasted for a considerable time. They performed many of the
newest airs, and sang all the songs in vogue whose verses told
the power of love in uniting hearts despite the obstacles of
fortune, and the inequality of rank; while at every couplet,
which the general's daughter perceived to be directed to herself,
her merriment knew no bounds.</p>
<p>"When the serenade was over, and the performers had departed
in the carriages which brought them, the crowd which the
music had attracted dispersed, and our lover remained in the
street with Domingo alone. He approached the balcony,
whence, in a few minutes, the servant-girl, with her mistress's
permission, said to him in a feigned voice: 'Is that you,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
Signor Don Como?' 'Who asks me that question?' replied
the Don in a languishing tone. 'It is,' rejoined the girl,
'Donna Luziana, who would know if the concert she has
heard but now, is an offering of your gallantry to her.' 'It
is,' exclaimed the intendant, 'but a shadow of those festivals
my love prepares for her who is the marvel of our days, if she
will deign receive them from a lover who is sacrificed on the
altar of her beauty.'</p>
<p>"At this brilliant metaphor, Luziana with difficulty restrained
her laughter; but, coming forward and putting her head
partially out of the little window from which her maid had
addressed him, she said to the intendant, as seriously as
possible: 'Signor Don Como, you are, I perceive, no novice
in the art of love; in you, each gallant cavalier who would gain
his lady's heart, may find a model for his conduct. I thank
you for your serenade, and feel flattered by your attention;
but,' added she, 'retire now, lest we should be observed;
another time we may, unrestrained, indulge in further conversation.'
As she finished these words, she closed the window,
leaving the intendant in the street, highly delighted at the kindness
she had displayed for him, and the page greatly astonished
that the lady had herself undertaken a part in the comedy.</p>
<p>"This little fête, including the carriages and the enormous
quantity of wine which its bibulous performers had consumed,
cost Don Como upwards of a hundred ducats; and, two days
afterwards, his confidant engaged him in a further outlay, in the
following manner. Having learned that, on the night of St.
John,—a night so celebrated in this city,—Floretta was about
to join the damsels of her class at the <i>fiesta del sotillo</i>, Domingo
undertook to enliven this dance by a magnificent breakfast at
the intendant's expense.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 245px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic05.png" width="245" height="292" alt="Don Como serenades Luziana" />
</div>
<p>"'Accordingly, Signor Don Como,' said he, on the eve of
this festival, 'you are aware of what takes place to-morrow. I
thought, however, you would like to be informed that Donna
Luziana intends to repair at break of day to the banks of the
Mançanarez, to witness the <i>sotillo</i>. I need say no more to the
Corypheus of gallant cavaliers;—you are not the man to
neglect so favourable an opportunity, and I am certain that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
your mistress and her companions will not fare badly to-morrow.'
'Of that you may be sure,' replied the governor,
'and I am obliged to you for informing me of her intention:
you shall see if I know how to kick the ball as it bounds.' In
effect, very early on the following day, four of the Count's
servants, conducted by Domingo, and loaded with every description
of cold meat, cooked in all fashions, with an infinite
number of small loaves and bottles of delicious wines, arrived
on the bank of the river, where Floretta and her companions
were dancing, like nymphs before the golden throne of Aurora.</p>
<p>"Had that goddess herself appeared, she would hardly have
been more cordially greeted than were the wines and cold
collation which the page brought on the part of Don Como;
offering, as they did, so agreeable a repast after the delightful
fatigues of the dance, which they so agreeably interrupted.
The damsels seated themselves on the velvet turf of the meadow,
and lost no time in paying due honour to the feast, the while
laughing immoderately at the dupe who gave it; for Domingo's
kind cousin had not omitted to inform them of their benefactor,
and his amorous adventure.</p>
<p>"While they were in the midst of their rejoicing and their
breakfast, they perceived the squire, richly dressed, and mounted
on one of the Count's steeds, which was ambling towards them.
He rode up to his confidant, and gaily saluted the ladies, who
rose at his approach, and politely thanked him for his generosity.
His eyes wandered among the company in search of
Donna Luziana, as he was anxious to deliver himself of a
speech, glittering with compliments as the sward beneath his
horse's feet with flowers, and which he had composed during
his ride in honour of his mistress. Great therefore was his
grief, when Floretta, taking him aside, informed him that a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>
slight indisposition had prevented her lady from joining in the
festival. The Don, with a proper display of sensibility on the
occasion, was particular in his inquiries as to the ailment; but
when the girl informed him that Luziana suffered from a cold,
caught on the previous night from exposure in the balcony
without her veil, talking of him and of his serenade, he was not
without consolation to find so sad an accident proceeded from
a cause so good. He therefore contented himself with the
usual expressions of condolence; and, after praying Floretta to
continue to interest herself in his behalf with his mistress, took
the road to his dwelling, rejoicing more and more at his great
good fortune.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic06.png" width="267" height="170" alt="Don Como at the sotillo" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p>
<p>"About this time, the intendant received a bill of exchange for
a thousand crowns from Andalusia, as his portion of the effects
of one of his uncles, who had died at Seville. On turning this
bill into cash, he happened to count it over and place it in a
coffer in the presence of Domingo, who took so lively an
interest in the operation, that, in order to repeat it, he was
tempted to appropriate, if possible, the shining gold; and resolved,
if successful in so doing, to escape with it into Portugal.
He related his project in confidence to Floretta, and even proposed
to her that she should accompany him. Now this proposition
was undoubtedly one which most people would think
worthy of reflection; but the girl, as interested in the matter
as the page, accepted it without a moment's hesitation. Consequently,
one night, while the intendant was labouring in his
cabinet to compose a touching letter to his mistress, Domingo
found means to open the coffer in which the money was confined,
to release it from its captivity, and to hasten with the
enfranchised crowns into the street. He instantly repaired to
the balcony of Luziana, and, as a signal which had been agreed
upon between him and his confederate, commenced a caterwauling,
which disturbed the gravity of all the tabbies in the
neighbourhood. The girl, ready to wander with him through
the world, promptly responded to the amatory call; and in a
few minutes they were on the high road from Madrid, together.</p>
<p>"They reckoned that, in the event of pursuit, they would have
plenty of time to gain the frontiers of Portugal before they could
be overtaken; but, unfortunately for them, Don Como discovered
the theft, and the flight of his confidant that very night.
He gave immediate information to the police, whose officers
were without loss of time dispersed on all sides in pursuit of
the fugitives, and Domingo was taken, near Zebreros, in company<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span>
with his lady. They were quickly brought back to
Madrid: the girl has been sent to join our friend Marcella in
<i>las Arrepentidas</i>, and Domingo is, as you perceive, as gay as
ever within the walls of this prison."</p>
<p>"And the intendant," added Don Cleophas, "has saved his
golden crowns; as of course they have been restored to him."
"Of course they have not," replied the Devil: "the thousand
pieces are the proof of the robbery, and the officers of justice
understand their business too well to give them up; so that
Don Como, whose loving history is spread throughout Madrid,
has lost his money and his mistress, and is laughed at by everybody
into the bargain."</p>
<p>"Domingo and his fellow-prisoner have for a neighbour,"
continued the Cripple, "a young Castilian who has been
arrested for having, in the presence of too many witnesses,
struck his father." "Oh heaven!" cried Leandro, "is it
possible? Lives there a child, however lost to shame, who can
raise his impious hand against a father?" "Oh yes," said the
Demon: "yon Castilian is not without example; and I will
cite you one whose history is rather remarkable. Under the
reign of Don Pedro I., surnamed the Just and the Cruel, the
eighth king of Portugal, a youth of twenty fell into the hands of
justice for the same crime. Don Pedro, as much surprised as
yourself at the novelty of the case, was curious to interrogate
the mother of the criminal, and he examined her so adroitly as
to obtain from her a confession, that the real father of this child
was a certain reverend prelate. If the Castilian's judges were
discreet enough to interrogate his mother with equal address, it
is probable that it would be attended with a similar avowal.</p>
<p>"Cast your eyes into a large dungeon beneath the prisoners
I have just pointed out to you, and observe what is passing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>
there. Do you see those three ill-looking rascals? They are
highwaymen. See! they are effecting their escape. Some one
has furnished them with a dumb-file in a loaf of bread; and
they have already cut through one of the thick bars of a window,
by which they may gain the court-yard, and from thence the
street. They have been more than ten months in prison, and
it is upwards of eight since they should have received the
public recompense due to their exploits; but, thanks to the
tardiness of justice, they are about to begin again their career
of robbery and murder.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch07pic07.png" width="266" height="165" alt="A prisoner being beaten up by his fellow inmates" />
</div>
<p>"And now look into that low roofed cell where you perceive
twenty or thirty men, some of them stretched upon straw.
They are mostly pickpockets, shop-lifters, or professors of other
branches of the Spartan craft. Do you observe five or six of
them worrying a sort of labourer, who was introduced to their
society this morning for having wounded an alguazil with a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>
stone?" "And what are they thrashing him for?" asked
Zambullo. "Why," replied Asmodeus, "because he has not
paid his entrance-fees. But," added he, "let us leave this
horrible place, and the miserable wretches it contains; they are
not in my vocation: we will go elsewhere, in search of objects
less disgusting."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="tailpiece: foliate cul-de-lampe" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER VIII.</h5>
<h4>OF VARIOUS PERSONS EXHIBITED TO DON CLEOPHAS BY ASMODEUS,
WHO REVEALS TO THE STUDENT WHAT EACH HAS DONE IN
HIS DAY.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiali2.png" width="75" height="76" alt="I" />
</div>
<p>In a few moments, the Demon and his pupil were
on the roof of a large mansion, at a considerable
distance from that part of the city in which they
had left the prisoners. "I have brought you
here," said Asmodeus, "because I am desirous of informing
you what the mass of people who reside in the neighbourhood
of the house we are on, have been doing in the course of to-day;—it
will amuse you." "Doubtless!" replied Leandro.
"Begin, I beseech you: and first for yonder cavalier who is
booting in such haste: what weighty matters call him from his
home in such a night as this, my Mentor?" "He is a captain,"
replied the Cripple, "whose steeds are waiting in the
street to carry him to Catalonia, where his regiment is
stationed.</p>
<p>"Well! yesterday, our hero, being without cash, applied to
one of those gentry who, instead of giving to the poor, wisely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>
lend unto the lords, or captains. 'Signor Sanguisuela,' said he,
'can you not oblige me with the loan of a thousand ducats?'
'Signor Captain,' replied the usurer, 'I have them not; but I
think I know a friend who has, and will lend them to you:—that
is to say, if you will give him your note of hand for a
thousand ducats, he will give you four hundred; out of which
I shall be content to receive sixty only, as my commission.
Money is so extremely scarce, that——' 'What usury!' interrupted
the officer, hastily. 'What! ask six hundred and sixty
ducats for the loan of three hundred and forty? Infamous
extortion! Such hard-hearted scoundrels deserve to be hanged.'</p>
<p>"'Keep your temper, at all events, Signor Captain, and go
elsewhere for your money,' replied the usurer, with the greatest
coolness. 'Of what do you complain? Do I force you to
take the three hundred and forty ducats? Heaven forbid!
you are free to take them or to leave them.' To this the Captain
had no reply to make, and went his way; but, on reflecting
that he must set out for the camp on the morrow, and that he
had no time to lose, he resolved to lose his money; so he
returned this morning to the usurer, whom he met at his door,
dressed in a short black mantle, a plain collar round his neck,
his hair closely trimmed, and with a rosary in his hand, garnished
with saintly medals. 'Here I am again, Signor Sanguisuela,'
said he; 'I will take the three hundred and forty
ducats,—necessity compels me to accept your terms.' 'I am
going to mass,' gravely replied the usurer; 'on my return, I will
give you that amount.' 'Ah! no,' exclaimed the Captain; 'I
pray you give it me at once: it will but delay you for an instant.
I would not entreat you, but my haste is great as is my need.'
'I cannot,' replied Sanguisuela: 'I hear mass daily, before I
think of following my worldly avocations; it is a rule I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>
prescribed for my conduct, and I will endeavour religiously to
observe it while I live.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 219px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic01.png" width="219" height="258" alt="The captain and the usurer leaving church" />
</div>
<p>"However impatient might be our captain to lay his hands
upon the money, he was obliged to comport himself with the
rule of the pious Sanguisuela: he therefore armed himself with
patience, and even, as though he feared that the ducats would
escape him, followed the usurer to church. Mass performed,
he was preparing to leave; when Sanguisuela inclined his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>
head towards him, and whispered in his ear: 'Stay! one of the
most talented men in Madrid preaches here this morning, and
I would not lose his sermon for the world.'</p>
<p>"The Captain, to whom the mass had appeared over-long,
was in despair at this further call on his endurance: however,
needs must—and he remained where he had been driven.
The preacher mounted the pulpit, and happened to discourse
against usury. The officer was delighted; and observing Sanguisuela's
countenance, he said within himself: 'If this Jew is
capable of being touched, now,—if he will but give me six
hundred ducats, I shall really think he is not too bad, after all.'
The sermon ended, they left the church together, when the
Captain, addressing his companion, said: 'Well, what think
you of the preacher? Did you not find his sermon extremely
forcible? For myself, I was quite affected by it.' 'I am
quite of your opinion,' replied the usurer; 'he treated his
subject admirably. He is a learned man, and deeply skilled
in his profession; and now, let us go, and show that we
understand ours as well.'"</p>
<p>"Hollo!" cried Don Cleophas, "who are those two women
in bed together, and laughing so loudly? Egad! they seem
merry enough." "They are sisters," replied the Devil, "who
this morning buried their father. He was an old curmudgeon,
who had so great a distaste for matrimony, or rather to portioning
his daughters, that he would never listen to a word
about their marrying, however advantageous might be the
offers made to them. They are at this moment discussing the
virtues of the dear deceased. 'He is dead at last,' exclaimed
the elder; 'he is dead,—the unnatural father, who so cruelly
delighted still to keep us maids: he will, however, no longer
oppose our innocent desires.' 'Well, sister,' said the younger,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span>
'for myself, I love the substantial; I shall look out for a good
rich husband,—stupid, if you please; and the fat Don Blanco
is just the man for my money.' 'Softly, sister,' replied the
elder; 'we shall have for husbands those to whom we are
destined; for marriages, they say, are written in heaven.' 'So
much the worse for us,' replied the younger; 'for if dear papa
has the luck to be there, he will assuredly tear out our leaf.'
The eldest could not help laughing at this sally, and it is
that which still amuses them both.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic02.png" width="256" height="169" alt="The two sisters in bed" />
</div>
<p>"In the next house to that of these ladies, in a furnished
apartment, lodges an Aragonese adventuress. You may see
her, while others sleep, admiring in a glass those charms on
which she relies, and which have gained for her to-day a conquest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>
to be proud of: like a good general, she studies her positions
for attack; and she has just discovered a new one, which
will finish her campaign with her lover to-morrow. He is well
worth all the pains she can take to secure him, and she is well
aware of his promising qualities. To-day, for instance, one of
her creditors calling to remind her of an account, which he
insists on having settled in cash: 'Wait, my good friend,' said
she; 'wait but for a few days longer: I am on the point of
concluding a most advantageous arrangement with one of the
principal persons in the Customs.'"</p>
<p>"I need not ask you," said Leandro, "how a certain cavalier,
whom I perceive at this moment, has been passing his day:
he appears to be a complete letter-writer. What enormous
quantities I behold on his table!" "Yes," replied the Demon;
"and, what is most amusing, all these letters are alike in their
contents. He is writing to all his absent friends an account of
an adventure which befel him this afternoon. He is in love
with a widow of thirty, charming and discreet; he pays to her
devotions which she does not despise; he proposes for her
hand, and she consents to yield it without hesitation. While
preparations are making for their nuptials, he has permission
to visit her without ceremony. He went to her house to-day
after dinner, and as he chanced to meet with no one to
announce his coming, he entered the lady's apartment, where
he found her stretched on a couch, <i>en déshabille</i>, or, to speak
more correctly, almost naked. She was sleeping profoundly.
What lover could resist the temptation thus offered to his eyes?
He approaches her softly, and steals a gentle kiss. She starts,
exclaiming as she wakes, 'What, again! I beseech you,
Ambrose, leave me to repose.'</p>
<p>"The cavalier, as an honourable man, made up his mind on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span>
the instant to renounce all pretensions to the widow. He
therefore immediately left the apartment; and meeting the
servant at the door: 'Ambrose,' said he, 'stay! your mistress
prays you to indulge her with a brief repose.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic03.png" width="265" height="286" alt="The lover about to kiss the widow" />
</div>
<p>"Two doors beyond the house of this cavalier, I perceive an
original of a husband, who is sleeping tranquilly,—lulled to
rest by reproaches with which his wife is upbraiding him for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>
having passed the entire day from home. She would be still
more bitter against her spouse, did she know how he had spent
his day." "It has been most probably occupied in some
amorous adventure?" said Zambullo. "You have guessed it,"
replied Asmodeus; "and shall hear the detail.</p>
<p>"The man is a tradesman, named Patricio: he is one of
those wedded libertines who live without care, as though they
had neither wife nor children: the partner of this fellow,
nevertheless, is pretty, amiable, and virtuous; and he has two
daughters and one son, all three still in their infancy. He left
his family this morning, careless if they had bread to eat, which
is not unfrequently the case, and directed his steps toward the
great square, attracted thither by the preparations which Were
making for the bull-fight of to-day. The scaffolds were already
erected around the place, and already the more curious in
these matters began to take their places.</p>
<p>"While gazing at the company, examining first one and then
another, he observed a lady finely made and very neatly
dressed, who discovered, as she descended from the scaffold, a
well-turned leg and foot; and their effect was heightened by
rose-tinted silken stockings, and garters of silver lace, the ends
of which hung down to her ankles: it was enough to have
tempted a saint, and our excitable citizen was almost out of
his wits at the sight. He advanced towards the lady, who was
accompanied by another whose air sufficiently disclosed that
they were both damsels of easy virtue. 'Ladies,' said he,
accosting them, 'can I be of service to you? you have only to
command me, and it will be my happiness to obey.' 'Signor
cavalier,' replied the nymph with the rose-coloured stockings,
'you appear so obliging, that we will take advantage of your
kindness: we have already taken our places, but are leaving<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>
them to go to breakfast, as we were unwise enough to leave
home this morning without first taking our chocolate. Since
you are so gallant as to offer your services, may we trouble you
to escort us to some hotel, where we may eat a morsel of
something? but we must beg you will select as retired a place
as possible, for ladies, as you know, cannot be too careful of
their reputation.'</p>
<p>"At these words, Patricio, becoming even more civil and polite
than the occasion demanded, took the princesses to a tavern
in the neighbourhood, and ordered breakfast. 'What would
you like to have, sir?' inquired the host. 'I have the remains
of a magnificent dinner, which took place here yesterday:
there are larded fowls, partridges from Léon, pigeons from Old
Castile, and the best part of a ham from Estremadura.' 'More
than enough, mine host!' exclaimed the conductor of the two
vestals. 'Ladies, it is for you to choose;—what would you
prefer?' 'Whatever you please,' replied they: 'your choice
shall be ours.' Thereupon the citizen ordered a brace of
partridges and a couple of cold fowls, to be served in a private
room, as the ladies were too modest to think of eating in
public.</p>
<p>"They were immediately conducted to a small chamber, and
in a few minutes the host appeared with the chosen dishes,
some bread, and some wine. Our Lucretias fell to eating with
most unfashionable appetites, and the fowls rapidly disappeared;
while the simpleton, who was to pay, was occupied
in ogling his Luisita,—the name of the lady who had taken
his fancy,—in admiring the whiteness of her hand, upon which
glittered an enormous ring she had gained by her profession,—and,
unable to eat for joy of his good fortune, in lavishing
upon the lady all the tender epithets, such as his star or his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>
sun, that his imagination could invent. On inquiring of his
goddess if she were married, she told him she was not, but
was living under the protection of her brother;—had she
added,—by descent from our father Adam, she would not
have been far from the truth.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic04.png" width="264" height="155" alt="Breakfast at the inn" />
</div>
<p>"Good eating is nothing without good drinking; so the two
harpies, having each demolished a fowl, washed them down
with a proportionate quantity of wine; and, consequently, the
two flagons which had been placed upon the table were soon
exhausted. That they might be more speedily replenished,
our gallant left the room with the empty vessels; and he had
no sooner closed the door than Jacintha, Luisita's companion,
clawed hold of the two partridges, which were yet untouched,
and put them in a spacious pocket which her gown conveniently
afforded. Our Adonis, on returning from his chase<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span>
of the wine, and remarking that the eatables had vanished,
was anxious to know if his Venus had eaten enough. 'Why,'
said she, 'if the pigeons of which the host has spoken be very
good, perhaps I might be tempted to taste them; or else a
morsel of the ham of Estremadura will do.' These words
were no sooner uttered than away went Patricio again in
search of provender, and quickly returned, followed by three
of the loving birds and a substantial dish of the ham. The
two vultures pounced on their prey like lightning; and as the
witless citizen was obliged a third time to leave the room for
bread, they sent a pair of the pigeons to keep company with
the imprisoned partridges.</p>
<p>"After the repast, which ended with a dessert composed of
all the fruits the season afforded, the amorous Patricio began
to press Luisita for that payment in kind which he expected
from her gratitude. The lady, however, was resolved to look
upon it as a treat; but at the same time indulged him with the
hopes of a return, telling him there was a time for all things,
and that a tavern was not a fitting place in which to testify,
without reserve, her satisfaction for all his kindness. Then,
hearing the clock strike one, she assumed an uneasy air, and
said to her companion: 'Ah! my dear Jacintha, how unfortunate!
We shall be too late to find a place to see the bull-fight.'
'Excuse me,' replied Jacintha; 'this gentleman has
only to conduct us where he so politely accosted us, and never
fear for our finding a place.'</p>
<p>"Before leaving the tavern, however, it was necessary to
settle with the host, who presented an account amounting to
fifty reals. The citizen pulled out his purse; but, as it contained
but thirty of the requisite pieces, he was obliged to
leave, in pawn, his rosary adorned with numerous medals of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span>
silver. This done he esquired the frail ones to the place from
whence they came, and obtained for them convenient seats upon
one of the scaffolds, the proprietor of which, being known to him,
gave him credit for their price.</p>
<p>"They were no sooner seated, then they demanded further refreshment,
'I am dying with thirst,' cried one,—'that ham was terribly salt.'
'And so am I', replied the other; 'I could drink an ocean of lemonade.'
Patricio, who understood but too well what all this meant, left them,
in search of what they wanted; but suddenly stopping on his way, he
exclaimed to himself: 'Madman! where art thou going? Would one not
think thou hadst a hundred pistoles in thy purse, or in thy house?
And thou halt not a single maravedi! What shall I do?' added he. 'To
return to the lady without that which she requires is impossible;—and
must I, then, abandon so promising an adventure? I cannot
resolve on that either.'</p>
<p>"While thus embarrassed, he perceived among the spectators one of
his friends who had frequently tendered him services, which his
pride had always prevented him accepting. But now, lost to shame,
he hastened towards him, and without hesitation, begged the loan
of a double pistole; possessed of which his courage returned, and
hurrying to a confectioner's, he ordered them to carry to his
princesses so many iced liqueurs, so many biscuits and sweetmeats,
that the doubloon hardly sufficed to meet this new expense.</p>
<p>"At length the day ended, and with it the festival; when our citizen
conducted his lady to her house, in the pleasing hope of at last
reaping the reward of all his thoughtless extravagance. But as they
arrived near the door of a house which Luisita indicated, as her
dwelling, a servant-girl came to meet her, saying with much apparent
agitation: 'Ah! Where<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>
have you been until now? Your brother, Don Gaspard
Heridor, has been waiting for you these two hours, swearing
like a trooper.' Upon this the sister, in well-feigned alarm,
turned towards her gallant, and pressing his hand, said to him
in a whisper: 'My brother is a man of most violent temper,
but his anger is soon appeased. Wait here awhile with patience:
I will soon set all to rights; and as he sups from home every
night, as soon as he has left the house, Jacintha shall inform
you, and bring you to me.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic05.png" width="183" height="176" alt="Patricio kisses Luisita's hand" />
</div>
<p>"Patricio, consoled by this promise, kissed with transport
the hand of Luisita, who returned his caresses, in order to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>
keep up his spirits, and then entered the house with Jacintha
and the girl. The poor dupe took patience, as directed, and
sat himself down on a stone, a few yards from the door, where
he waited for a considerable time, never dreaming of the
possibility of their playing him a trick. He only wondered
at the stay of Don Gaspard, and began to fear that this cursed
brother had lost his appetite with his passion.</p>
<p>"Ten o'clock, eleven o'clock, the hour of midnight, sounded;
and not until then did his confidence begin to evaporate, and
some slight doubts of the good faith of his lady to infuse
themselves into his mind. All was darkness around him; when,
approaching the door, he entered on tip-toe, and found himself
in a narrow passage, in the middle of which his hand encountered
a staircase. He dared not ascend it; but, listening
attentively, his ears were greeted with the discordant concert
which might be expected to proceed from a barking dog, a
mewing cat, and a crying child, all performing their parts to
admiration. He felt that he was deceived; and he was convinced
of the fact when, having explored the passage to its
termination, he found himself in another street, parallel with
that in which he had, so long, waited for his love.</p>
<p>"The ghost of his money rose in judgment against him; and
he returned to his own house, moralising on the deceptive
influences of rose-coloured stockings. He knocked at the
door; it was opened by his wife, a chaplet in her hand, and
tears in her eyes. 'Ah! Patricio,' she said, in a voice which
told her affliction; 'how can you thus abandon your home?
how can you thus neglect your wife—your children? Where
have you been from six this morning, when you left us?' The
husband, whom this question would have puzzled to answer
satisfactorily, and who was, besides, somewhat ashamed of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>
himself, had not a word to say; so he undressed, and got into
bed in silence. His wife, however, was not in want of a text;
and she read him a lecture, the continuous hum of which, as
you perceive, has soothed him to sleep."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic06.png" width="264" height="231" alt="Patricio lulled to sleep by his wife's lecture" />
</div>
<p>"And now," continued Asmodeus, "cast your eyes upon
the large house by the side of that in which the cavalier is
writing to his friends the story of his rupture with the mistress
of Ambrose. Do you not remark a young lady sleeping in a
bed of crimson satin, embroidered with gold?" "Wait!—oh,
yes!—I see a lady sleeping; and I fancy I see a book,
open, on her pillow." "Precisely so," answered the Demon.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span>
"That lady is a talented young countess, full of life and spirit:
she has recently suffered extremely from sleepless nights, and
having sent for a physician, one of the most dignified of his
class, he has prescribed for her a remedy, derived, he says, from
Hippocrates himself. The lady, nevertheless, ridiculed his prescription;
at which the physician, a crabbed sort of animal,
who does not understand joking, said to her, with a proper
professional gravity: 'Madam, Hippocrates is not a man to
be laughed at.' 'Certainly not, signor doctor,' replied the
Countess, with the most serious air imaginable; 'far from
laughing at so celebrated and learned an author, I think so
highly of him, that I feel assured the mere opening of his
work will cure me of my sleeplessness. I have in my library
a new translation from the pen of Azero; it is, I believe,
the best: here! find it for me,' added she, turning to her
attendant. You behold the magic power of Hippocrates!
She had not read three pages before she sank into profound
repose.</p>
<p>"In the Countess's stables there is a poor, one-armed soldier,
whom the grooms, out of charity, permit, by night, to sleep
upon the straw. During the day he begs about the city; and
a few hours ago, he had an amusing conversation with another
mendicant, who lives near Buen-Retiro, on the road to the
palace. The latter has an excellent business, which he
manages so well, that his daughter, who is of a marriageable
age, passes among the beggars for a rich heiress. This morning,
the soldier accosting the father, said to him: 'Signor Mendigo,
I have lost my right arm; I can no longer serve the king; and,
like yourself, I am obliged to gain a livelihood by doing the
civil to the passers-by. I know well that of all trades there is
not one which does more for those who follow it; and that all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>
that is wanting to it is, that it should be a little more highly
esteemed.' 'If it were a bit more honourable,' replied the
old man, 'it would not be worth following at all, as we should
have too much competition;—all the world would beg if it
were not for shame.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic07.png" width="264" height="272" alt="The two beggars in conversation" />
</div>
<p>"'Very true!' replied he of the one arm. 'Well, now! I
am a brother beggar; and I should be happy to ally myself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span>
with so distinguished a member of our profession: you shall
give me your daughter.' 'Hold! my dear sir,' replied the
warm old gentleman; 'you cannot think of such a thing. She
must have a better match than you will make. You are not
half lame enough. My son-in-law must be a miserable-looking
object, who would draw blood out of a stone.' 'Do you think,
then, that you will find one worse off than I am?' 'To be
sure! Why, you have only lost an arm; and ought to be
absolutely ashamed of yourself, to expect that I will give you
my daughter. I'd have you to know that I have already
refused a fellow without legs, and who goes about the city in
a bowl.'</p>
<p>"I must on no account," continued the Devil, "omit to call
your attention to the house which joins that of the sleeping
countess, and which contains a drunken old painter and a
satirical poet. The artist left home at seven o'clock this
morning in search of a confessor, as his wife was at the point
of death; but happening to meet with a boon companion, he
went with him to a tavern, and forgot his wife until ten this
evening, when he returned to find she had died unshriven.
The poet, who enjoys the reputation of having frequently
received most striking proofs of the merits of his caustic verses,
was swaggering in a <i>café</i> this morning; and in speaking of a
person who was absent, exclaimed: 'He is a scoundrel, to
whom, some of these days, I must give a good drubbing.'
'That is kind of you,' replied a wag who heard him; 'though
I believe, by the bye, that you owe him a good many.'</p>
<p>"I had nearly forgotten a scene which took place this
morning at a banker's in this street. He is only recently
established in Madrid, having returned with immense riches
about three months ago from Peru. His father is an honest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>
cobbler of Mediana,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> a large village of Old Castile, near the
Sierra d'Avila, where he lives, contented with his lot, and with
his wife, who, like himself, is about sixty years of age.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> It is curious, that in the original of the latest Paris edition, as also in
the third edition, of 1707, the earliest I have been able to consult, and
which was published under the superintendence of Le Sage, this passage
stands, "un honnête <i>capareto</i> de Viejo et de Mediana." There is a note
to the word "<i>capareto</i>" giving its translation into French as <i>savetier</i>.
Being puzzled by the double name of the village,—"de Viejo et de
Mediana," I sought the assistance of a talented Spaniard, Signor Lazeu,
and was surprised to find the Spanish for cobbler is "<i>zapatero de viejo</i>,"
or, "shoemaker of old (things)," and that it should consequently have
stood in the original "<i>zapatero de viejo</i> de Mediana." It has been doubted
by many, among others the late H. D. Inglis, whether Le Sage were
really the author of Le Diable Boiteux and Gil Blas; and it has been
asserted that he merely translated these works from the unpublished manuscripts
of some Spanish author. If the error in question were really that
of Le Sage, it would certainly go far to confirm this assertion.—Trans.</p></div>
<p>"It is upwards of twenty years since the banker left his
father's house, for the Indies, in search of a better fortune than
he could expect from his parents. During all this time, though
lost to sight, he was ever present in their thoughts, and every
night and morning saw the poor couple on their knees, praying
Heaven to shield him with its protection; nor did they fail, on
each succeeding Sabbath, to entreat their friend the curate to
recommend their child to the prayers of his humble flock.
As soon as the banker had returned to Spain, having hastily
established his house of business, he resolved to ascertain, in
person, the condition of his parents, whom, in his prosperity,
he had never forgotten. With this view, having told his
domestics he should be absent for a few days, he set out alone,
about a fortnight ago, and journeyed on horseback towards the
place of his birth.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic08.png" width="262" height="230" alt="The banker reunited with his parents" />
</div>
<p>"It was about ten o'clock at night, and the good old cobbler
was sleeping peaceably beside his spouse, when they were
suddenly awakened by the noise which the banker made, as
he knocked violently at the door of their little house. 'Who's
there?' cried the startled pair, together. 'Open—open the
door!' replied a voice; 'it is your son Francillo.' 'Tell that
to the marines!" replied the ancient son of Crispin;—'be off
with you, scoundrels! there is nothing here worth stealing.
Francillo is at this moment in the Indies, if he be not dead.'
'Your son is not now in the Indies,' replied the banker; 'he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>
is returned from Peru; it is he who speaks to you: will you
refuse to receive him in your arms?' 'Let us go down,
Jacobo,' said the wife; 'I think it is indeed Francillo; I seem
to recollect his voice.'</p>
<p>"They immediately dressed themselves hurriedly; and, as
soon as the cobbler had struck a light, they descended, and
opened the door. The old woman looked at Francillo but for
an instant, and, with a mother's instinct, recognised her son:
she fell upon his neck, and pressed him to her bosom; while
master Jacobo, as much transported as his wife, threw his arms
around them, and kissed them both by turns. It was some
time before the happy family, reunited after so long a separation,
could tear themselves apart, or cease those expressions of
delight which filled their throbbing hearts.</p>
<p>"At length, however, the banker was able to think of his
horse, which he unsaddled and led to a stable, already occupied
by a cow, whose teeming udders daily yielded their sweet food
for his parents. On his return to the house, he related the
adventures of his life in Peru, and told them of the wealth
which he had brought with him to Spain. The story was
somewhat long, and might have appeared annoying to uninterested
listeners; but a son who unbosoms himself after a
twenty years' absence, rarely fails to fix the attention of a father
and mother. To them nothing was indifferent; they greedily
devoured every syllable he uttered, and the most trifling details
of his life made upon them the most lively impressions of
sorrow or of joy.</p>
<p>"He finished his history, by telling them that his wealth
would lose all its value unless shared by them, and entreated
his father to think no longer of working at his stall. 'No, no,
my son,' said master Jacobo to him: 'no, no! I love my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>
trade, and I will stick to my last.' 'What,' exclaimed Francillo,
'is it not time you lived in peace? I do not ask you to go
with me to Madrid; I know well that a city life would have no
charms for you: I do not propose, then, that you should leave
the peaceful village where your days have passed; but, at least,
spare yourself a painful toil, and live here at your ease, since it
is in your power to do so.'</p>
<p>"The mother joined her son in besieging the old cobbler
with entreaties; and, at last, master Jacobo capitulated. 'Well!
Francillo,' said he, 'to satisfy you I will be a gentleman; that
is, I will not work any longer for all the village; I will only
mend my own shoes, and those of our good friend the curate.'
On this convention, the banker, having swallowed a couple of
eggs that they had fried for his supper, went to bed beneath
his father's roof, the first time for many years, and slept with
a calmness of delight that the good alone are capable of
enjoying.</p>
<p>"The following day, Francillo returned to Madrid, after
leaving with his father a purse of three hundred pistoles. But,
this morning, he was not a little astonished at beholding master
Jacobo suddenly enter his room. 'Ah! my father what brings
you here!' 'Why, my son,' replied the old man, 'I bring you
back your purse. There, take your money; I am determined
to live by my trade: I have been miserable ever since I left off
work.' 'Ah, well! my father,' said Francillo, 'return to the
village, and continue to work as you will: but, at all events,
let it be only to amuse you. Take back your purse, too, and
do not spare mine.' 'And what, then, do you think I can do
with so much money?' asked master Jacobo. 'It will enable
you to relieve the poor,' replied the banker: 'do with it as the
curate and your own conscience shall dictate.' The cobbler,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>
satisfied to accept it on these terms, immediately departed for
Mediana."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 198px;">
<img src="images/ch08pic09.png" width="198" height="240" alt="The cobbler attempts to return the purse to his son" />
</div>
<p>Don Cleophas had listened, with pleasure, to the history of
Francillo; and he was about to express his admiration of the
good-hearted banker's filial affection, when, at the very moment,
his attention was distracted by the most piercing shrieks.
"Signor Asmodeus!" he exclaimed, "what frightful noises do
I hear?" "Those cries, which rend the air," replied the
Devil, "proceed from a receptacle for madmen, who tear their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>
throats with shouting, or with singing." "We are not far from
the place of their confinement, then," said Leandro; "so let
us look at them at once." "By all means," replied the
Demon: "I will afford you that amusement and inform you
of the causes of their madness." It was no sooner said than
done; and, in a moment, the Student found himself on the
<i>Casa de los locos</i>.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 214px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecemanrock.png" width="214" height="224" alt="tailpiece of a man in a rocky landscape" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER IX.</h5>
<h4>THE MADHOUSE, AND ITS INMATES.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialz.png" width="75" height="78" alt="Z" />
</div>
<p>Zambullo surveyed, by turns, with much curiosity,
the several rooms and the unfortunate creatures
they contained; and while he was reflecting
on the scene thus presented to his eyes, the Devil said
to him: "There they are, my master! You see insanity
in every form there;—men and women, laughing idiots and
raging maniacs, locks grey with age, and cheeks which still
retain their bloom. Well! now I will tell you what has
turned their heads: we will go from room to room, but will
begin with the men.</p>
<p>"The first whom you observe, and who appears so violent,
is a political fanatic of Castile. He is a proud citizen of
Madrid, in the heart of which he was born; and he is more
jealous of the honour of his country than was ever citizen of
ancient Rome. He went mad with chagrin at reading in the
gazette, that twenty-five Spaniards had suffered themselves to
be beaten by a party of fifty Portuguese.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
<p>"His neighbour is a licentiate, who was so anxious to obtain
a benefice, that he played the hypocrite at court during ten long
years; and whose brain was turned by despair at finding himself
constantly overlooked among the promotions: his madness,
however, is not without its advantage; seeing that he at present
imagines himself to be Archbishop of Toledo. And what if he
deceive himself? His pleasure is none the less: indeed, I
think, that he is so much the more to be envied; since his
error is a golden dream, which will only end with his life, and
he will not be called to account in the other world for the
application of his revenues in this.</p>
<p>"The next in rotation is a ward, whom his guardian declared
to be insane, that he might have the uncontrolled use of his
property: the poor youth has become really mad from rage at
his unjust confinement. After the minor, comes a schoolmaster,
who lost his wits in search of the <i>paulo post futurum</i> of
the Greek verb; and, then again, we have a merchant, whose
reason was shipwrecked with a vessel that belonged to him,
although it had stood the shock of two bankruptcies which had
before threatened to engulph him.</p>
<p>"The person who is lodged in the next room is the ancient
captain Zanubio, a Neapolitan cavalier, who came to establish
himself in Madrid, and whom jealousy has settled where he is:
you shall hear his history.</p>
<p>"He delighted in a youthful spouse, the lady Aurora, whom
he guarded as the apple of his eye. His house was absolutely
inaccessible to all mankind; and Aurora never left it but for
mass, always accompanied by her aged Tithon, or to breathe
with him the pure air of the pleasant fields, at an estate near
Alcantara, whither he sometimes led her. Despite his vigilance,
however, she had been perceived at church by the cavalier<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span>
Don Garcia Pacheco, who loved her from the instant that he
saw her: he was an enterprising youth, and not unworthy
the attention of a pretty woman whom Fortune had badly
matched.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic01.png" width="268" height="281" alt="Zanubio and Aurora at church, observed by Don Garcia" />
</div>
<p>"The difficulty of introducing himself into the house of
Zanubio was not sufficient to deprive Don Garcia of hope. As
his chin was yet unreaped, and he was fair to behold, he disguised
himself as a virgin, took with him a hundred pistoles,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>
and betook himself to the captain's seat, where, he had learned,
that gentleman and his lady were shortly expected. Watching
his opportunity to accost the female who acted as gardener in
Zanubio's establishment, he addressed her in the style of the
heroines of chivalry, who fly from some giant's towers:
'Kind lady,' said he, 'I come to throw myself within your arms, and
to entreat your pity. I am a maiden of Toledo, of wealth and
name, but my parents would compel me to give my hand to one
whom my heart disowns. To escape this tyranny, I have fled
by night; and I now seek shelter from a cruel world. Here I
shall be safe from pursuit. Do not deny me, then, to dwell
with you until my friends shall be inspired with more kindly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span>
sentiments. There is my purse: do not hesitate to receive it,
it is all that I can give you now: but I trust the day will come
when I may more properly acknowledge the service which you
will render me by your protection.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic02.png" width="263" height="219" alt="Don Garcia accosts the female gardener" />
</div>
<p>"The gentle gardener, especially affected by the conclusion
of this touching address, replied: 'Dear lady, I will receive you
with pleasure. I know that there are too many youthful maidens
who are sacrificed to aged men; and I know, too, that they are
not usually reconciled to their lot. I sympathize with your
afflictions: you could not have more fortunately addressed
yourself than to me. Come! I will place you in a little room,
where you may live in confidence of security.'</p>
<p>"Don Garcia passed four days, shut up in the gardener's
cottage, anxiously awaiting the arrival of Aurora. At last she
came, guarded as ever by her jealous spouse, who immediately,
according to his usual custom, searched every chamber, from
the cellar to the garret, to make sure that he was free from the
hated form of man, which might endanger his honour. The
gardener, who expected this visitation, anticipated it by informing
her master of the manner in which a refuge had been
sought with her by a youthful female. Zanubio, although
extremely mistrustful, had not the slightest suspicion of the
deceit now practised on him; he was, however, curious to see
the unknown. At the interview which followed, the lady
begged him to excuse her concealing her name, stating that it
was a reserve which she owed to her family, which she in some
sort dishonoured by her flight. She then related to him so
pathetic a tale, and in a style so romantic, that the captain
was charmed; and while he listened to her narration, he felt a
rising inclination for this amiable damsel, which ended in an
offer of his services and protection; after which he led her to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>
his wife, flattering himself that this adventure would not end
disagreeably to himself.</p>
<p>"As soon as Aurora beheld Don Garcia, she blushed and
trembled, without knowing why. The cavalier, who perceived
her uneasiness, shrewdly guessed that she had observed the
attention with which he had regarded her at church. To
ascertain this fact, as soon as they were alone, he said to her:
'Madam, I have a brother who has often spoken to me of you.
He saw you for a moment at your devotions, and from that
moment, which he delights to recall a thousand times each
day, you have been the idol of his heart;—he loves you to
madness.'</p>
<p>"As he spoke, Aurora scrutinized the features of Don Garcia,
and when he had finished she replied to him: 'You resemble
your brother too closely to permit me to remain for an instant
the dupe of your stratagem: I see too clearly you are that
brother in disguise. I remember, one day while at mass, my
mantilla fell back from my face; it was but for an instant, but
I saw that you perceived me: I afterwards watched you from
curiosity, and your eyes remained fixed on my person. When
I left the church, I believe that you failed not to follow me,
that you might learn who I was, and the house where I dwelt.
I say—I believe you did this, for my head dared not turn to
observe you; as my husband was with me, jealous of my
slightest motions, and would have made, of one glance, a deep
crime. On the morrow and following days, when I went to
the church, I always saw you; and your features have become
so familiar that I know you despite your disguise.'</p>
<p>"'Well, Madam,' replied the lover, 'I must then unmask:—yes,
I am a man, the victim of your charms:—it is indeed
Don Garcia Pacheco whom Love brings here in the guise of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span>
the gentler sex——' 'And you doubtless anticipate,' interrupted
Aurora, 'that I, sharing your foolish passion, shall lend
myself to your design, and assist in confirming my husband in
his error. You are, however, deceived: I shall at once expose
the deception; my honour and my peace demand it of me.
Besides, I am not sorry to have an opportunity of showing my
husband that vigilance is a less certain safeguard than virtue,
and that, jealous and mistrustful as he is, I am more difficult
to surprise than himself.'</p>
<p>"She had hardly spoken when the captain appeared. He
had indistinctly heard a portion of his wife's discourse, and
requested to be informed of the subject of their conversation.
'We were speaking,' replied Aurora, 'of those youthful cavaliers
who dare to hope for love from ladies of a tender age, because
united to a husband for whom respect claims the place of
passion. As you entered I was saying, that should such a
gallant dare to address himself to me,—should he endeavour
to introduce himself beneath your roof by some of those
artifices to which such madmen have recourse, I should know
well how to punish his audacity.'</p>
<p>"'And you, Madam,' said Zanubio, turning to Don Garcia,
'after what fashion should you treat a youthful cavalier in such
a case?' Our assumption of a virgin was so much disconcerted
at this question, that he was unable to reply; and his embarrassment
would certainly have attracted Zanubio's attention,
had not, at the moment, a servant entered the apartment, to
inform the captain that a person who had just arrived from
Madrid wished to speak with him.</p>
<p>"Zanubio had no sooner gone out than Don Garcia, throwing
himself at Aurora's feet, exclaimed: 'Ah, madam, how can
you delight thus to perplex me? Could you be cruel enough<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
to expose me to the wrath of an enraged husband?' 'No,
Pacheco,' replied the lady, smiling; 'youthful dames who are
so unfortunate as to have aged spouses are not so resentful.
Be not alarmed! I could not resist the temptation to amuse
myself at the expense of your fears; but that is the sum of your
punishment; and it is surely not exacting too great a price for
my kindness in permitting your continuance here.' At these
consoling words all Don Garcia's alarms were dispelled, and
they yielded to hopes, of which Aurora was too kind long to
delay the realization.</p>
<p>"One day, while their reciprocal affection was manifested in
a form too clear to be misunderstood, the captain surprised
them. Had he been the most confiding of men, it would have
been impossible, unless his confidence were not extended to
his own eyes, to doubt that the lovely unknown was a man in
disguise. Furious at the scene which presented itself, he
hastened to his dressing-room in search of his pistols; but, in
the meanwhile, the fond couple escaped,—in their hurry to
leave the apartment, double-locking the door, and taking with
them the key. They lost no time in gaining a neighbouring
village, in which Don Garcia had taken the precaution to leave
his valet with two good horses. There, our hero, having
abandoned his petticoats, and placed Aurora on a crupper on
one of the steeds, mounted and rode with her to a convent,
where she prayed him to leave her in the care of an aunt, its
abbess; after which he returned to Madrid to await the termination
of his adventure.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic03.png" width="248" height="284" alt="Zanubio discovers Aurora in Garcia's embrace" />
</div>
<p>"Poor Zanubio, finding himself imprisoned, shouted with all
his lungs, and a servant, hearing his voice, hastened to his
assistance: but, if Love laughs at locksmiths, locks are sometimes
extremely unaccommodating. In vain did the servant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>
and captain try to force the door; and at last the latter, his
wrath increasing with his efforts, rushed to the window, and
threw himself from it, his pistols in his hands: he fell upon his
back, wounded his head, and when his attendants arrived they
found him senseless. He was carried bleeding to his chamber,
and by deluging him with water, and by other gentle torments
used on such occasions, they succeeded in bringing him to life;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
but his fury returned with his senses. 'Where is my wife?' he
cried. To this interrogatory they replied, by informing him
that they had seen her pass from the garden, in company with
the unknown lady, by a little private door. He immediately
demanded his pistols, which they dared not refuse him, ordered
a horse to be saddled, and without reflecting on his wound, set
out, but by another road, in pursuit of the lovers. The day
passed in this fruitless search; and when he stopped for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span>
night at a village inn, to repose himself, the fatigue and
irritation of his wound brought on a fever and delirium, which
nearly cost him his life.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 251px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic04.png" width="251" height="284" alt="Zanubio throws himself out of the window" />
</div>
<p>"The rest is told in a few words. The captain, after being
confined to his bed for a fortnight, in the village, returned still
unwell to his country seat; and there, by continually dwelling
on his misfortune, he shortly afterwards lost his reason. The
relations of Aurora were no sooner informed of this event,
than they caused him to be brought to Madrid, and confined
where you now see him; and they have resolved that his wife
shall remain in the convent for some years to come, as a
punishment for her indiscretion, or, more properly, for a fault
which their own cupidity placed her in a situation to be
tempted to commit.</p>
<p>"The next to whom I shall direct your attention," continued
the Devil, "is the Signor Don Blaz Desdichado, a worthy
cavalier, whose deplorable malady is also owing to the loss of
his wife, but by death." "That indeed surprises me," said
Don Cleophas. "A husband whom the death of his wife
renders insane! Well! that is more than I ever expected to
spring from conjugal love." "Not so fast!" interrupted
Asmodeus: "Don Blaz did not lose his reason with his wife;
but because, having no children, he was obliged to return to
the parents of the deceased fifty thousand ducats which he had
received with her, and which the marriage contract compelled
him to restore."</p>
<p>"Ah! that is another affair," replied Leandro; "the matter
is by no means so wonderful as I imagined. But tell me, if
you please, who is that young man that is skipping about like
a kid in the next room, and from time to time stopping to
laugh until he holds his sides? He is a lively fool enough."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>
"Yes," replied the Cripple, "and it was excess of joy which
made him mad. He was porter to a person of quality; when
one day, hearing of the death of a rich contador, to whose
wealth he was sole heir, he was so affected by the joyous news
that his head was not proof against his good fortune.</p>
<p>"We have now come to that tall youth who is twanging the
guitar, and accompanying the pathetic strain with his voice:
his is a melancholy madness. He is a lover, whom the excessive
severity of his mistress reduced to despair, until they
were obliged to enclose him here." "Alas! how I pity him,"
exclaimed the Student; "permit me to express my sorrow for
his misfortune;—it is one to which every susceptible heart is
exposed. Were it my own fate to love a disdainful beauty, I
know not but that I too should love to madness." "I can
believe you," replied the Demon: "that sentiment would
stamp you for a true Castilian. One must be born in the
centre of that ancient kingdom to be capable of loving until
reason sinks with a despised heart. Your Frenchman is not
so tender; and would you appreciate the difference between a
gay Parisian and a fiery Spaniard in this respect, I need only
repeat to you the song which yon poor fool is singing, and
which his passion inspires even at this moment:</p>
<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 10%;">
<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">SPANISH SONG.</span><br />
<br />
'Mine eyes gush o'er with floods of wild desire,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And hopeless love burns fiercely in my breast;</span><br />
Yet not my tears can quench my bosom's fire,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Nor passion's fire my scalding tears arrest.'<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></span><br />
</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p class="p2"><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a>
<br />
'Ardo y lloro sin sosiego:<br />
Llorando y ardiendo tanto,<br />
Que ni el llanto apaga el fuego,<br />
Ni el fuego consume el llanto.'<br />
</p>
</div>
<p class="p2"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>
"It is thus sings a true Castilian whom his lady slights; and
now I will repeat to you the words in which a Frenchman told
his griefs, in a similar case, only a few days ago:</p>
<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 10%;">
<span style="font-size: 0.8em;">FRENCH SONG.</span><br />
<br />
'She who within my bosom reigns,<br />
A tyrant's stern control maintains;<br />
Nor sighs, nor tears, nor prayers can move<br />
The least relenting look of love.<br />
A kind word, kindly spoken, might<br />
Have turn'd my darkness into light;<br />
But, since my suit is urged in vain,<br />
I fly to feed my griefs with Payen.'<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a><br />
</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p class="p2"><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a>
<br />
'L'objet qui règne dans mon coeur<br />
Est toujours insensible à mon amour fidèle,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Mes soins, mes soupirs, ma langueur,</span><br />
Ne sauraient attendrir cette beauté cruelle.<br />
O ciel! est-il un sort plus affreux que le mien?<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Ah! puisque je ne puis lui plaire,</span><br />
<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Je renonce au jour qui m'éclaire;</span><br />
Venez, mes chers amis, m'enterrer chez Payen.'<br />
</p>
</div>
<p class="p2">"This Payen is undoubtedly a tavern-keeper?" said Don
Cleophas. "Exactly so," replied the Devil. "But let us
continue our observations." "Let us then turn to the women,"
exclaimed Leandro; "I am impatient to hear their histories."
"I will yield to your impatience," answered the Spirit; "but
there are yet two or three unfortunates on this side of the
house, whom I would first show to you: you may profit by
their unhappiness.</p>
<p>"You observe, close by the melancholy songster, that pale
and haggard face; those teeth, which gnash as though they
would make nothing of the iron bars that ornament the
window. Yon is an honest man, born under influence of
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>malignant star, who, with all the merit in the world, has vainly
striven, during twenty years, to secure a modest competence;
he has scarcely, with all his efforts, succeeded in gaining his
daily bread. His reason fled its seat, on his perceiving a
worthless fellow of his acquaintance suddenly mount the top of
fortune's wheel by a lucky speculation.</p>
<p>"His neighbour, again, is an old secretary, whose head was
cracked by a stroke of ingratitude, which he received from a
courtier, in whose service he lived during sixty years. No
praises were too great for the zeal and fidelity of this ancient
servant; who, however, never claimed their just reward,
content to let his assiduity and services speak for themselves.
His master, far from resembling Archelaus, king of Macedonia,
who refused favours when demanded, and bestowed them
when unasked, died forgetful of his merits, leaving him just
enough to pass his days in misery, and the refuge of a madhouse.</p>
<p>"I will only detain you with one more, and it is with the
man who, leaning with his elbows on the window, appears
plunged in profound meditation. You see in him a Signor
Hidalgo, of Tafalla, a small town of Navarre, which he left for
Madrid that he might make the best use of his wealth. He
was bitten with a rage for surrounding himself with the literati
of the day; and as these animals are always seen to most
advantage at feeding-time, he kept open house for their entertainment.
Authors are an unpolished and ungrateful race;
but, although they despised and snarled at their keeper, he
was not contented until they had eaten him out of house and
home." "Poor fellow," said Zambullo: "he no doubt went
mad with rage at his awful stupidity." "On the contrary,"
replied Asmodeus, "it was with regret at finding himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
unable to keep up his menagerie. Well! now let us pay our
respects to the ladies," added the Devil.</p>
<p>"Why! how is this?" exclaimed the Student: "I only see
seven or eight of them. I had expected to have found them
here by scores." "Ah!" said the Devil, smiling, "but they
are by no means all confined within these walls. I will take
you instantly, if you wish it, to another quarter of the city,
where there is a larger house than this, full of mad-women to
the very roof." "Do not trouble yourself, I beg," replied Don
Cleophas; "I am by no means anxious for their acquaintance:
these will suffice." "You are right," replied the Devil; "and
these too, are almost all youthful ladies of distinction. You
may perceive by the attention which is paid to their persons,
that they are not ordinary subjects. And now for the story of
their madness.</p>
<p>"In the first room is the wife of a corregidor, who went mad
with rage at being termed plebeian by a lady of the court; in
the second, is the spouse of the treasurer-general of the
council of the Indies: anger also made her mad, at being
obliged, in a narrow street, to turn back her carriage to
make way for that of the duchess of Medina-Coeli. The
third room is the residence of a merchant's widow, whom
regret for the loss of a noble signor's hand robbed of her
senses; and the fourth is occupied by a girl of highest rank,
named Donna Beatrice, whose misfortunes are worth your
attention.</p>
<p>"This young lady was united by the most tender friendship
with the Donna Mencia: they were indeed inseparable. It
happened, however, that a handsome chevalier of the order of
St. James became acquainted with them both, and they soon
were rivals for his heart. As he could not marry the two, and as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>
his affections inclined towards the Donna Mencia, he paid his
court to that lady, and she shortly became his wife.</p>
<p>"Donna Beatrice, jealous of the power of her charms, and
mortified to excess by the preference shown to another,
conceived a passion for revenge, which, like a woman, or a
good Spaniard, she nourished at the bottom of her heart.
While this passion was yet in its infancy, she received from
Don Jacintho de Romarate, a neglected lover of the Donna
Mencia, a letter stating that, being as much insulted as herself
by the marriage of his mistress, he had resolved to demand
satisfaction of the chevalier for their united wrongs.</p>
<p>"This letter gave great delight to Beatrice, who desiring
but the death of the sinner, wished for nothing more than
that his rival should fall beneath Jacintho's hand. While
anxiously awaiting for so christianly a gratification, it happened,
however, that her own brother, having chanced to
quarrel with this same Jacintho, came to blows with her
champion, and fell pierced with wounds of which he died.
Although duty prompted Donna Beatrice to avenge her
brother's death by citing his murderer before the tribunals
of his country, she neglected to do so, as this would have
interfered with her revenge; which demonstrates, if such
proof were needed, that there is no interest so dear to a
woman as that of her beauty. Need I remind you, that when
Ajax violated Cassandra in the temple of Pallas, that goddess
did not on the instant punish the sacrilegious Greek? No!
she reserved her wrath until its victim should have first
redressed the insult offered to her charms by the Judgment
of the hated Paris. But, alas! Donna Beatrice, less
fortunate than Minerva, never tasted the sweetness of her
anticipated vengeance. Romarate perished by the sword of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>
the chevalier, and chagrin for her wrongs, still unpunished,
drove the lady into this asylum.</p>
<p>"The next who offer themselves to your notice are an
attorney's grandmother and an aged marchioness. The ill-temper
of the first so annoyed her descendant, that he very
quietly got rid of her by placing her here: the other is a lady
who has ever been an idol to herself, and instead of aging with
becoming resignation, has never ceased to weep the decay of
that beauty which formed her only happiness; and at last, one
day, when her mirror told, too plainly to be doubted, that all
her charms were flown, went mad."</p>
<p>"So much the better for the ancient dame," added Leandro.
"In the derangement of her mind, she will no more perceive
the ravages of time." "Most assuredly not," replied the
Devil; "far from beholding in her face the marks of age, her
complexion seems to her now a happy blending of the lily and
the rose; she sees around her but the Graces and the Loves,—in
a word, she thinks that she is Venus herself." "Ah!
well!" exclaimed the Student, "were it not better that
thousands should be mad, than that they should know themselves
for what they are?" "Undoubtedly," replied Asmodeus;
"but come, we have only one other female to
observe; and that is she who dwells in the furthest room, and
whom sleep has just visited with rest, after three days and
nights of raving. Look at her well! What think you of
the Donna Emerenciana?" "That she is beautiful, indeed,"
answered Zambullo. "What horror, that so lovely a creature
should be mad! By what fatal accident is she reduced to this
dreadful situation?" "Listen!" replied the Demon; "I will
tell you the story of her woes.</p>
<p>"Donna Emerenciana, only daughter of Don Guillem Stephani,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>
lived tranquilly at Siguença, in the mansion of her
father, when Don Kimen de Lizana came to trouble her
repose by those attentions with which he sought to win her
heart. Flattered by his gallantries, she received their homage
with delight; she even had the weakness to lend herself to the
artifices to which he resorted that he might speak with her in
private; and in a short time exchanged with him vows of
eternal love and fidelity.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 238px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic05.png" width="238" height="244" alt="The mad-woman Donna Emerenciana" />
</div>
<p>"The lovers were of equal birth; but the lady was one of the
richest heiresses of Spain, while Don Kimen was a younger<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>
son. But there was still another obstacle to their union,—Don
Guillem hated the family of the Lizana. This he never
affected to conceal, whenever they were mentioned; and he
seemed more averse to Don Kimen himself, than to any other
of his race. Emerenciana, though deeply afflicted at her
father's sentiments on this subject, which she felt boded unhappily
for her passion, could not resolve to abandon its
object; and she therefore continued her secret interviews with
her lover, who from time to time, through the assistance of a
waiting-maid, ventured even into her chamber by night.</p>
<p>"It happened, one of these nights, that Don Guillem chanced
to be awake when the gallant was thus introduced, and thought
he heard a noise in his daughter's apartment, which was not
far from his own. This was quite enough to arouse a father,
and especially one so mistrustful as Don Guillem. Suspicious
as he was, he had never imagined the possibility of his
daughter's intelligence with Don Kimen; but not being of a
disposition to place too much confidence in any one, he rose
quietly from his bed, opened a window which looked into the
street, and there patiently waited until he saw that cavalier,
whom the light of the moon enabled him to recognize, descending
from the balcony by a silken ladder.</p>
<p>"What a sight for Stephani!—for the most vindictive, the
most relentless mortal, that even Sicily, which gave him birth,
had ever produced. He controlled the first emotions of his
terrible wrath, and repressed every exclamation of surprise at
what he beheld, that the chief victim which his wounded pride
demanded might not be warned of his fate, and attempt to
escape the avenger's hand. He so far constrained himself as
to wait until the morning, when his daughter had risen, ere he
entered her apartment. She was alone, as he approached her,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>
with fury sparkling in his eyes; and, with a voice that made
her tremble, he addressed her thus: 'Unworthy wretch! whom
not the honour of thy race restrains from deeds of infamy,
prepare to meet their due reward! This steel,' he added, as
he drew a dagger from his bosom, 'shall find a sheath within<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>
your heart, unless with truth upon your lips you name the
daring villain who brought, last night, dishonour on my house.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic06.png" width="263" height="293" alt="Stephani threatens Emerenciana with a dagger" />
</div>
<p>"Emerenciana was so overcome by this unexpected discovery
and her father's threats, that her tongue refused its office.
'Ah! miserable,' continued Don Guillem, 'thy silence and confusion
tell me too plainly all thy guilt! Dost think, child, whom
I blush to call mine own, that I know not what has passed?
I know too well! I saw, myself, the villain, and recognized
him for Don Kimen. 'Twas not enough, then, to receive a
cavalier at night within thy room!—that cavalier must be the
man whom most I loathe! But come! tell me how much I
owe him. Speak without disguise,—thy sincerity alone can
save thy shameful life.'</p>
<p>"These last words, terrible as they were, brought with them
some slight hope to the unfortunate girl of escaping the fate
which menaced her, and she recovered from her fright sufficiently
to enable her to reply: 'Signor, I cannot deny that I
am guilty of listening to Lizana; but I call Heaven to witness
for the purity of his sentiments and conduct. Aware as he was
of your hatred for his name, he dared not to ask your sanction
for his addresses; but it was for no other end than to confer
with me how that sanction might be obtained that he sought,
and I permitted, his coming here.' 'And who, then,' asked
Stephani, 'was the willing instrument through which you exchanged
your communications?' 'It was,' replied his daughter,
'one of your pages to whom we were indebted for that kindness.'
'Enough,' interrupted the father; 'and now to execute
the design for which I come!' Thereupon displaying his
poniard, he made Emerenciana sit down, and placing paper
and ink before her, compelled her to write to her lover the
following letter which he dictated:—</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p>
<blockquote>
<p>"'Dearest Love,—only delight of my life,—I hasten to
inform you that my father has just set out for his estate,
whence he will not return until to-morrow. Lose not this
happy opportunity. I doubt not you will watch for the coming
night with as much impatience as your beloved</p>
<p>"'<span class="smcap">Emerenciana</span>.'</p></blockquote>
<p>"As soon as this treacherous letter was written and sealed,
Don Guillem said to his daughter: 'And now summon the
page who so well performs the duties you impose on him, and
direct him to carry this note to Don Kimen: but hope not to
deceive me; I shall conceal myself behind the drapery of your
room, whence I can observe your slightest movement; and if
while you charge him with this commission you speak one
word, or make the smallest sign which may give him suspicion
of your message, I will plunge this dagger in your heart.'
Emerenciana knew her father too well to dare to disobey him:
the page was called, and the letter placed as usual in his hands.</p>
<p>"Not until then did Stephani put up his weapon; but he did
not leave his daughter for a moment during the day, nor would
he let any one approach her, so that she could communicate to
Lizana intelligence of the snare which was spread for him.
Accordingly, when night came, the youthful gallant hastened
to the wished-for meeting; but hardly had he entered the door
of his mistress's house before he found himself seized by three
powerful men, who disarmed him in a moment, tied a bandage
over his mouth to prevent his cries, another over his eyes, and
bound his hands behind his back. They then placed him in
a carriage, which was waiting for the purpose, and having all
mounted therein for complete security of the betrayed cavalier's
person, they carried him to the seat of Stephani, situated near<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>
the village of Miedes, four leagues from Siguença, where they
arrived before daybreak.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 232px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic07.png" width="232" height="181" alt="Don Kimen is kidnapped" />
</div>
<p>"The first care of the signor was to cause Don Kimen to
be placed in a vault which received but a feeble light from a
hole near the top, so small, that escape by that was impossible.
He then ordered Julio, a confidential servant, to feed him
with bread and water only, to give him but a truss of straw to
sleep on, and to say to him every time he carried him food:
'Here, base seducer: it is thus that Don Guillem treats those
who are mad enough to dare to insult him!' The cruel
Sicilian was hardly less severe in his treatment of his daughter:
he imprisoned her in a chamber which looked into a small
courtyard, deprived her of her attendants, and placed her in
the custody of a duenna whom he had chosen, because she
was unequalled for her skill in tormenting those committed to
her charge.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span></p>
<p>"Having thus disposed of the two lovers, he was by no
means contented with the punishment already inflicted on
them: he had resolved to get rid of Don Kimen, and had
only not done so at once because he wished to avoid any
unpleasant consequences which might follow his crime; to
manage which, appeared to be somewhat difficult. As he had
employed three of his servants in the abduction of the cavalier,
he could hardly hope that a secret known to so many persons
would always remain undiscovered:—what then was he to do,
to shun any impertinent explanations which justice might think
it necessary to demand? His resolve was worthy of a conqueror;
he assembled his accomplices in a small pavilion, a
short distance from the chateau, and after telling them how
highly satisfied he was with their zeal, he stated that he had
brought them there to receive a substantial reward for their
services in money, and that he had prepared a little festival,
which he invited them to share. They sat down to enjoy
themselves, little dreaming that it was a feast of death; for
when their brains were heated with wine, the worthy Julio by
his master's order brought in a poisoned bowl, which soon
ended their rejoicing. The pair then fired the pavilion, and
before the flames had brought around them the inhabitants of
the neighbouring village, they assassinated Emerenciana's two
female attendants and the page of whom I have spoken, and
threw their bodies into the burning heap. It was really
amusing, while the remains of these poor wretches were consuming
in this infernal pile, which the peasants strove in vain
to extinguish, to witness the profound grief displayed by our
Sicilian: he appeared inconsolable for the loss of his
domestics.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 260px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic08.png" width="260" height="266" alt="Assassination of the maid-servants and page" />
</div>
<p>"Nothing remaining to be feared from any want of discretion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>
on the part of his coadjutors, which might have betrayed
him, he thus addressed his confidant: 'My dear Julio, my
mind is now at peace, and the life of Don Kimen is at my
mercy; but, before I immolate him to my wounded honour, I
would enjoy the sweet delight of making him feel how much
he has offended me;—the misery and horror of a long and
solitary confinement will be more dreadful to him than death<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>
itself.' In truth, Lizana was by no means comfortable; and,
hopeless of ever leaving the dungeon where he wasted, he would
have welcomed death as a cheap release from his sufferings.</p>
<p>"But, despite his boast of peace, the mind of Stephani
knew no rest after the exploits he had recently achieved; and
ere many days had passed, a new source of inquietude presented
itself in the fear lest Julio, as he daily saw the prisoner
for the purpose of taking him food, should suffer himself to be
corrupted by promises. This fear made Don Guillem resolve
to get rid of Lizana without loss of time, and then to blow out
the brains of his friend Julio. But the latter was also not
without his own misgivings; and, as he shrewdly suspected
that were Don Kimen once out of the way, he would be found
in it, he had made his resolution to take himself off some fine
night, with all that was portable in the house, when the darkness
would excuse his not distinguishing his master's property
from his own.</p>
<p>"While these honest gentlemen were each meditating an
agreeable surprise for the other, they were one day both unwelcomely
accosted at a short distance from the chateau, by
about twenty archers of St. Hermandad, who surrounded, and
greeted them in the name of the king and the law! At this
salutation Don Guillem was somewhat confounded; but, calling
the colour to his cheeks, he asked the commandant of the
archers whom he sought. 'Yourself!' replied the officer: 'you
are accused of having unlawfully seized on Don Kimen de
Lizana; and I am directed to make strict search for that cavalier
within your mansion, and further to make you my prisoner.'
Stephani, convinced by this answer that he was lost, drew from
his person a brace of pistols, exclaiming that he would suffer
no one to enter his house; and that he would shoot the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>
commandant without ceremony if he did not instantly take himself
off with his troop. The leader of the holy brotherhood,
despising this threat, advanced at once towards the Sicilian;
who, as good as his word, fired, and wounded him slightly in
the face. This wound, however, cost the life of the madman
who gave it; for the archers in a moment stretched him lifeless
at the feet of their injured chief. Julio surrendered himself
without resistance; and, making a virtue of necessity, cleared
his conscience by a frank avowal of all that had occurred,—except
that, perceiving his master was really dead, he did him
the honour to invest his memory with all the glory attaching
to the transaction.</p>
<p>"He then conducted the archers to the vault, where they
found Lizana on his straw bed, securely bound. The unfortunate
gentleman, who lived in continual expectation of death,
thought it was come at last when he saw so many armed men
enter his prison; and was, as you may expect, agreeably surprised
to find liberators in those whom he had taken for his
executioners. When they had released him from his dungeon,
and received his thanks, he asked them how they had learned
that he was confined in the place where they found him.
'That,' replied the commandant, 'I will tell you in a few
words.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic09.png" width="256" height="231" alt="The liberation of Don Kimen" />
</div>
<p>"'The night you were entrapped,' said the officer, 'one of
Don Guillem's assistants, whose mistress resided in the neighbourhood,
stole a few moments while they were waiting for
you, to bid adieu to his sweetheart before his departure, and
was indiscreet enough to reveal to her the project of Stephani.
For a wonder, the lady kept the secret for three whole days;
but when the news of the fire at Miedes reached Siguença, as
every body thought it strange that all the servants of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>
Sicilian should have perished in the flames, she naturally took
it into her head also that the fire was the work of Guillem himself.
To revenge her lover's death, therefore, she sought the
Signor Don Felix, your father, and related to him all she knew.
Don Felix, alarmed at finding you were in the hands of a man
capable of everything, accompanied the lady to the corregidor,
who on hearing her story had no doubt of Stephani's intentions
towards you, and that he was the diabolical incendiary the
woman suspected. To make inquiries into all the circumstances
of the case, the corregidor instantly despatched orders
to me at Retortillo, where I live, directing me to repair with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span>
my brigade to this chateau, to find you if possible, and to take
Don Guillem, dead or alive. I have happily performed my
commission as regards yourself; and I only regret that it is
out of my power to conduct the criminal to Siguença alive.
He compelled us by his furious resistance to dispatch him on
the spot.'</p>
<p>"The officer, having ended his story, thus continued: 'I
will now, Signor Don Kimen, draw up a report of all that has
happened here; I will not, however, detain you long, and we will
then set out together to release your friends from the anxiety they
suffer upon your account.' 'Stay, signor commandant,' interrupted
Julio, 'I will furnish you with matter to lengthen your
report: you have got another prisoner to liberate. Donna
Emerenciana is confined in a dismal chamber of this chateau,
guarded by a merciless duenna, who upbraids her without
ceasing for her love of this cavalier, and torments her by every
device she can imagine.' 'Oh Heaven!' cried Lizana, 'is it
possible that the barbarous Stephani should not have been
contented to exercise his cruelty on me alone? Let us hasten
to deliver the unfortunate lady from the tyranny of her gaoler.'</p>
<p>"Julio lost no time in conducting the commandant, four or
five of the archers, and Lizana, to the prison of Don Guillem's
daughter. They knocked at the door; it was opened by the
surprised duenna, and you may conceive the delight of Don
Kimen at again beholding his mistress, after having lost her as
he supposed for ever. All his hopes revived; nor could he
reasonably conceive the possibility of their non-fulfilment, since
he who alone stood between him and his happiness, was dead.
He threw himself in ecstacy at the feet of Emerenciana; when,—picture
his horror if you can,—he found, instead of the
gentle girl who had listened with tender transport to his vows,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>
a maniac. Yes! so well had the duenna succeeded in her
efforts, that she had effaced the image of the lover by destroying
the canvas on which it was depicted.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch09pic10.png" width="268" height="189" alt="Don Kimen discovers Emerenciana has gone mad" />
</div>
<p>"She remained for some time in apparent meditation, then
imagining herself to be the fair Angelica, besieged by the Tartars
in the towers of Albraca, and the persons who filled her
apartment to be so many Paladins come to her rescue, she
received them with much politeness. Addressing the chief of
the holy brotherhood as Roland, Lizana as Brandimart, Julio
as Hubert of the Lion, and the archers as Antifort, Clarion,
Adrian, and the two sons of the Marquis Olivier, she said to
them: 'Brave chevaliers, I no longer fear the Emperor Agrican,
nor Queen Marphisa: your valour would suffice for my
defence against the world itself in arms.'</p>
<p>"The officer and his followers could not resist an inclination<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>
to laugh at this heroic reception; but poor Don Kimen was
so much afflicted by the unexpected condition in which he
found her for whom alone he had wished to live, that reason
seemed to be on the point of abandoning him also. Recovering
himself, however, from his first surprise, and hoping that
she might be brought to recognize the unhappy author of her
misfortunes, he addressed her tenderly: 'Dearest Emerenciana,'
said he, 'it is Lizana speaks to thee: recall thy scattered
thoughts, he comes to tell thee that thy griefs are at an end.
Heaven has heard the prayer of those fond hearts itself united;
and its wrath has fallen on the wicked head of him who would
have separated two beings made for each other.'</p>
<p>"The reply to these words was another speech from the
daughter of king Galafron to the valiant defenders of Albraca,
who this time however restrained their mirth. Even the commandant,
whose profession was not favourable to the kindlier
feelings of humanity, was touched with compassion, and
observing the profound affliction of Don Kimen, said to him:
'Signor Cavalier, do not despair! We have, in Siguença,
physicians celebrated for their skill in curing the disorders
of the mind, and there is yet hope for your unfortunate lady.
But let us away! You, Signor Hubert of the Lion,' added
he, addressing himself to Julio, 'you who know the whereabouts
of the stables of this castle, take with you Antifort and
the two sons of the Marquis Olivier, bring out the fleetest
coursers from their stalls and harness them to the car of our
princess; in the meanwhile I will prepare my dispatches.'</p>
<p>"So saying, he drew out his writing materials, and having
finished his report, he presented his hand to Angelica and
conducted her to the court-yard, where he found a carriage
with four mules, which had been prepared for her reception<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
by the paladins. The lady was placed therein by the side of
Don Kimen; and the commandant having compelled the
duenna to enter also, as he thought the corregidor would be
glad to have some conversation with the dame, he mounted,
and they set out for Siguença. This is not all: by order of
their chief, the archers bound Julio, and placed him in another
carriage with the body of Don Guillem; then mounting their
horses they followed the same route.</p>
<p>"During the journey, the daughter of Stephani uttered a
thousand extravagancies, every one of which was as a dagger
in the heart of her lover. The presence of the duenna was an
additional source of disquiet to him. 'It is you, infamous old
woman,' said he to her, 'it is you who by your cruelty have
tortured Emerenciana to madness.' The old hypocrite endeavoured
to justify herself by pleading the instructions of her
defunct master. 'It is to Don Guillem alone,' said she, 'that
her misfortunes are attributable: daily did that too rigid father
visit her in her room; and it is to his reproaches and threats
that the loss of her reason is owing.'</p>
<p>"On reaching Siguença, the commandant immediately went
to give an account of his mission to the corregidor, who
after examining Julio and the duenna found them lodgings in
the prisons of that town, where they reside to this time. Lizana,
after deposing to all he had suffered from Don Guillem, repaired
to his father's house, where his presence restored joy to his
alarmed relations. Donna Emerenciana was sent by the judge
to Madrid, where she has a kind uncle by her mother's side,
who desired nothing better than the administration of his
niece's property, and who was nominated her guardian. As
he could not creditably do otherwise than appear desirous of
her restoration to sanity, he had recourse to the most famed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>
physicians of this city; but he had nothing to fear, for, after
having taken a becoming number of fees, they declared her
incurable. On this decision, the guardian, no doubt very reluctantly,
placed her here; and here, most likely, she is destined
to end her days."</p>
<p>"And a sad destiny it is," cried Don Cleophas; "I am really
touched by her misfortunes: Donna Emerenciana deserved a
better fate. And Don Kimen," added he, "what is become of
him? I am curious to learn how he acted." "Very reasonably,"
replied Asmodeus: "when he heard that the evil
was past a remedy, he went to Spanish America. He hopes
that by change of scene he may insensibly efface the remembrance
of those charms that wisdom and his own peace require
he should forget.——But," continued the Devil, "after having
exhibited to you madmen who are confined, it is time I shewed
to you those who deserve to be so."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 190px;">
<img src="images/ch09tailpiece.png" width="190" height="137" alt="Tailpiece of a physician taking Emerenciana's pulse" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER X.</h5>
<h4>THE SUBJECT OF WHICH IS INEXHAUSTIBLE.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialr.png" width="75" height="78" alt="R" />
</div>
<p>"Run your eyes over the city, and as we discover
subjects worthy of being placed in this museum,
I will describe them to you. There is one,
already; I must not let him escape: he is a
newly-married man. It is just a week since, in consequence
of reports which reached his ears relative to the coquetries
of a damsel whom he affected, he went in a fury to her house,
broke one portion of her furniture, threw the other out of
windows, and on the next day mended the matter by espousing
her." "A proper candidate, indeed," said Zambullo, "for a
vacant place in this establishment!"</p>
<p>"He has a neighbour," resumed the Cripple, "who is not
much wiser than himself, a bachelor of forty-five, who, with
plenty to live on, would yet swell the train of some noble
pauper. And yonder is the widow of an advocate, who,
having counted three-score years and more, is about to seek
the shelter of a convent, that her reputation may not, as she
says, suffer scandal in this wicked world.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p>
<p>"I perceive also two virgins, or, to speak more properly, two
girls of fifty years of age. They pray Heaven, in its mercy,
to take to it their father, who keeps them mewed like minors;
as they hope, when he is gone, to find handsome men who
will marry them for love." "And why not?" inquired the
Scholar; "there are stranger things than such men to be
found." "I am perfectly of your opinion," replied Asmodeus:
"they may find husbands, doubtless; but they ought not to
expect to be so fortunate,—it is therein that their folly
consists.</p>
<p>"There is no country in the world in which women speak the
truth in regard to their age. At Paris, about a month ago, a
maiden of forty-eight and a woman of sixty-nine had occasion
to go before a magistrate as witnesses in a case which concerned
the honour of a widow of their acquaintance. The magistrate,
first addressing himself to the married lady, asked her age;
and, although her years might have been counted by the
wrinkles on her brow, she unhesitatingly replied, that she was
exactly forty. 'And you, madam,' said the man of law,
addressing the single lady in her turn, 'may I ask your age
also?' 'We can dispense with that, your worship,' replied
the damsel; 'it is a question that ought not to be asked.'
'Impossible!' replied he; 'are you not aware that the law
requires....' 'Oh!' interrupted the lady sharply, 'the
law requires nothing of the kind: what matters it to the law
what my age may be? It is none of its business.' 'But,
madam,' said the magistrate, 'I cannot receive your testimony
unless your age be stated; it is a necessary preliminary, I
assure you.' 'Well,' replied the maiden, 'if it be absolutely
necessary, look at me with attention, and put down my age
conscientiously.'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch10pic01.png" width="264" height="270" alt="The two ladies before the magistrate" />
</div>
<p>"The magistrate looked at her over his spectacles, and was
polite enough to decree that she did not appear above twenty-eight.
But when to his question, as to how long she had
known the widow, the witness replied—before her marriage:
'I have made a mistake,' said he; 'for I have put you down
for twenty-eight, whereas it is nine and twenty years since the
lady became a wife.' 'You may state then,' cried the maiden,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>
'that I am thirty: I may have known the widow since I was
one year old.' 'That will hardly do,' replied the magistrate;
'we may as well add a dozen years at once.' 'By no means,'
said the lady; 'I will allow another year, if you please; but
if my own honour were in question instead of the widow's, I
would not add one month more to please the law, or any other
body in the world.'</p>
<p>"When the two witnesses had left the magistrate, the woman
said to the maiden: 'Do not you wonder at this noodle, who
thinks us young enough to tell him our ages to a day? It
is enough, surely, that they should be inscribed on the parish
registers, without his poking them into his depositions, for the
information of all the world. It would be delightful, truly, to
hear recited in open court,—Madame Richard, aged sixty and
so many years, and Mademoiselle Perinelle, aged forty-five,
depose such and so forth. It is too absurd: I have taken care
to suppress a good score of years; and you were wise enough
to follow my example.'</p>
<p>'What do you mean by following your example?' cried the
ancient damsel, with youthful indignation: 'I am extremely
obliged to you; but I would have you to know that thirty-five
years are the utmost I have seen.' 'Why! child,' replied the
matron, with a malicious smile, 'you forget yourself: I was
present at your birth—ah! what a time it is ago! And your
poor father! I knew him well. But we must all die; and he
was not young, either: it is nearly forty years since we buried
him.' 'Oh! my father,' interrupted the virgin, hastily, irritated
at the precision of the old dame's tender recollections,—'my
father was so old when he married my mother, that she was not
likely to have any children by him.'</p>
<p>"I perceive in that house opposite," continued the Spirit,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>
"two men, who are not over-burdened with sense. One is a
youth of family, who can neither keep money in his pocket, nor
do entirely without it: he has discovered, therefore, an excellent
means of always having a supply. When he is in cash, he
lays it out in books, and when his purse is empty, he sells them
for the half of their cost. The other is a foreign artist, who
seeks for patronage among the ladies as a portrait painter: he
is clever, draws correctly, colours to perfection, and is extraordinarily
successful in the likeness; but—he never flatters his
originals, yet expects the women will flock to him. Sheer
stupidity! <i>Inter stultos referatur.</i>"</p>
<p>"What?" cried the Scholar, "have you studied the classics?"
"You ought hardly to be surprised at that," replied the Devil:
"I speak fluently all your barbarous tongues—Hebrew, Greek,
Persic, and Arabic. Nevertheless, I am not vain of my attainments;
and that, at all events, is an advantage I have over your
learned pedants.</p>
<p>"You may see in that large mansion, on the left, a sick lady
surrounded by several others, who are in attendance upon her:
she is the rich widow of a celebrated architect, whose love for
her husband's profession has extended itself to the most foolish
admiration of the Corinthian capital of society—the higher
classes. She has just made her will, by which she bequeaths
her immense wealth to grandees of the first class, who are
ignorant of her very existence, but whose titles have gained for
them their legacies. She was asked whether she would not
leave something to a person who had rendered her most important
services. 'Alas! no,' she replied, with an appearance
of regret; 'and I am sorry that I cannot do so. I am not so
ungrateful as to deny the obligation which I owe to him; but
his humble name would disgrace my will.'"</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p>
<p>"Signor Asmodeus," interrupted Leandro, "tell me, I pray
you, whether the old gentleman whom I perceive so busy reading
in his study, does not chance to be one of those who merit to be
here confined." "He does, indeed, deserve it," answered the
Demon: "he is an old licentiate, who is reading a proof of a
book which he is passing through the press." "Doubtless,
some work on morals or theology?" said Don Cleophas. "Not
it," replied the Cripple; "it is a collection of amatory songs,
which he wrote in his youth: instead of burning them, or at
least suffering them to fall into the oblivion to which he is fast
hastening, he has resolved to print them himself, for fear his
heirs should be tempted to do so after his death, and that, out
of respect for his memory, they should deprive them of their
point by rendering them decent.</p>
<p>"There is a little lady living in the same house with our
Anacreon, whom I must not forget: she is so entirely convinced
of the power of her attractions, that no man ever spoke
to her whom she did not at once place in the list of her
admirers.</p>
<p>"But let us turn to a wealthy canon, whom I see a few paces
beyond her. He has a very singular phantasy. If he lives
frugally, it is not with a view to mortify the flesh, or from a
dislike to the grape; if his humility does without a coach and
six, it is not from avarice. Ah! for what object then does he
husband his resources? What does he with his revenues?
Does he bestow them in alms? No! he expends them in the
purchase of paintings, expensive furniture, and jewellery. Now,
you would naturally expect he bought these things to enjoy
them while he lived?—No such thing; he only seeks
to swell the inventory of his effects when he shall be no
more."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
<p>"Oh! impossible!" cried Zambullo: "such a madman as
you describe cannot exist on the earth!" "I repeat, nevertheless,"
replied the Devil, "that such is his mania. The only
pleasure he derives from these things is in the imagination of
how they will figure in his said inventory. Does he buy, for
instance, a superbly inlaid cabinet; it is neatly packed upon
the instant, and carefully stowed away; that it may appear quite
new in the eyes of the brokers who may come when he is dead
to bargain for his relics.</p>
<p>"I will show you one of his neighbours that you will think
quite as mad as he,—an old bachelor, recently arrived from the
Philippine Isles, with an enormous fortune which he derived
from his father, who was auditor of the court at Manilla: his
conduct is extraordinary enough. You may see him daily in
the antechambers of the king, or of the prime minister. Do
not fancy, however, that it is ambition which leads him there,
to solicit some important charge: he seeks no employment; he
asks for nothing. 'What then!' you will say to me, 'does he go
there simply to pay his devoirs?' Colder still! He never
speaks to the minister, to whom indeed he is not even known,
nor does he desire to be so. 'What then is his object?'—I will
tell you. He wishes to persuade the world of his credit at
Court."</p>
<p>"An amusing original, indeed!" cried the Student, bursting
with laughter; "he takes great pains to little purpose, truly:
you may well place him in the list of madmen." "Oh! as to
that," replied Asmodeus, "I shall shew you many others whom
it would be unreasonable to think more wise. For instance,
look in yonder house, so splendidly illumined, and you will
perceive three men and two ladies sitting round a table. They
have just supped together, and they are now playing at cards to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>
while away the night, with which only will they leave their
occupation. Such is the life these gentle cavaliers and ladies
lead. They meet regularly every evening, and break up like
fogs only with the sun; when they retire to sleep until darkness
again calls them to light and life: they have renounced
the face of day and the beauties of nature. Would not one
say, to behold them thus surrounded with waxen tapers, that
they were corpses, waiting for the last sad offices that are
rendered to the dead?" "There is no necessity to shut those
people from the world," said Don Cleophas;—"they have
ceased to belong to it."</p>
<p>"I perceive in the arms of sleep," resumed the Cripple, "a
man whom I esteem, and who is also attached devotedly to
me,—a being formed in my own mould. He is an old bachelor,
who idolises the fair sex. You cannot speak to him of a pretty
woman, without remarking the delight with which he hears you;
if you say that her mouth is small, her lips rubies, her teeth
pearls, her cheeks roses on an alabaster vase; in a word, if you
paint her in detail, at every stroke he sighs and lifts his eyes,
and is visibly excited by his voluptuous imagination. Only two
days ago, passing the shop of a ladies' shoemaker, he stopped
to look with admiration on a pair of diminutive slippers which
were there exposed. After contemplating them for some time,
with more attention than they deserved, he exclaimed with a
languishing air, to a cavalier who accompanied him: 'Ah! my
friend; there now are slippers which enchant my soul! what
darling feet for which they were made! I look on them with
too much interest: let us away! the very atmosphere around
this place is dangerous.'"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 168px;">
<img src="images/ch10pic02.png" width="168" height="224" alt="The old bachelor admires the diminutive slippers" />
</div>
<p>"We may mark that gentleman with black, at all events,"
said Leandro Perez. "We may indeed," replied the Devil;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>
"and you may tar his nearest neighbour with the same brush,
while you are about it—an original of an auditor, who, because
he keeps a carriage, blushes whenever he is obliged to put his
foot into a public vehicle. He again may be worthily paired
with one of his own relations, a wealthy dignitary of the church
here, who almost always rides in a hired coach, in order to save
two very neat ones, and four splendid mules, which he keeps
in his stables.</p>
<p>"In the immediate neighbourhood of the auditor and our
amatory bachelor, I discover a man to whom, without injustice,
no one could deny his title to a strait waistcoat. There he is—a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span>
cavalier of sixty, making love to a damsel of sixteen. He
visits her daily, and thinks to win her affections by a recital of
the conquests of his youth; he hopes that she will love him
now for the charms of which he formerly could boast.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 209px;">
<img src="images/ch10pic03.png" width="209" height="316" alt="The old cavalier wooing the young girl" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p>
<p>"We may place in the same category with the aged swain,
another who is sleeping about ten paces from us—a French
count, who came to Madrid to see the court of Spain. This
old gentleman, who is nearly seventy years of age, shone with
great lustre in the court of his own sovereign, fifty years ago;
he was indeed perfectly the rage; all the world envying his
manly form, his gallant deportment, and above all the exquisite
taste which he displayed in his apparel. He scrupulously preserved
the dresses so much admired, and has continued to wear
them on all occasions despite the changes of fashion, which in
Paris occur every day. What, however, is most amusing in
the matter is, that he fancies himself at this time as graceful
and attractive as in the days of his youth."</p>
<p>"There is not the slightest doubt," said Don Cleophas,
"that we may book a place in the <i>Casa de los locos</i> for this
French signor." "I must reserve another though," replied the
Demon, "for a lady who resides in a garret, next to the count's
mansion. She is an elderly widow, who, from excess of affection
for her children, has had the kindness to make over to
them all her property; reserving only a small stipend for herself,
which, with proper filial gratitude, they take good care
never to pay.</p>
<p>"I have another subject for the same establishment, in a
youth of family, who no sooner has a ducat than he spends it;
and who, as he cannot do without the ready, is capable of anything
to obtain it. A fortnight ago, his washer-woman, to whom
he owed thirty pistoles, came to dun him for that sum, stating
that she wanted it particularly, as she was going to be married
to a valet-de-chambre, who sought her hand. 'You must have
more money than this,' said he, 'for where the devil is the
valet-de-chambre who would take you to wife for thirty pistoles?'<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
'Oh! yes,' replied the sudorific dame, 'I have two hundred
ducats besides.' 'The deuce!' replied our hero, with emotion—'two
hundred ducats! You have only to give them to me,
I will marry you myself, and we may then cry quits.' He was
taken at his word, and the laundress became his wife.</p>
<p>"We must retain three places also for the same number of
persons, whom you see returning from supper at a celebrated
countess's, and now stopping before that house on the left,
where they at present reside. One is a nobleman of an inferior
grade, who piques himself on his passion for the <i>belles
lettres;</i> the second is his brother, your ambassador to Timbuctoo,
or some such place; and the third is their foster-brother,
a literary toady who follows in their train. They are almost
always together, and especially when visiting in the clique to
which they belong. The noble praises himself only; the
ambassador praises his brother and himself also; but the toady
has three things to look after,—the praises of the other two,
and the mixing of his own praises with theirs.</p>
<p>"Two places more! One for a floricultural citizen, who,
scarcely gaining his own bread, must need keep a gardener and
his wife to look after a dozen plants that languish at his suburban
villa; the other for an actor, who, complaining the other
day to his brethren on the disagreeables inseparable from a
strolling life, observed: 'Well, my friends, I am utterly disgusted
with my profession; yes, so much so, that I would
rather be a humble country gentleman with a thousand ducats
a year.'</p>
<p>"On whichever side I turn my eyes," continued the Spirit,
"I see nothing but addled brains. There, for instance, is a
chevalier of Calatrava, who is so proud, or rather vain, of being
privately encouraged by the daughter of a noble signor, that he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span>
thinks himself on a par with the first persons of the court. He
reminds me of Villius, who thought himself son-in-law of Sylla,
because he was on good terms with the daughter of that dictator;
and the resemblance is the more striking, because this
chevalier, like the Roman, has a <i>Longarenus;</i> that is to say, a
rival of low degree, who, nevertheless, is still more favoured by
the lady than himself.</p>
<p>"One would be inclined to affirm that the same men are
born anew from time to time, but under other circumstances.
I recognize, in that secretary of department, Bollanus, who
kept measures with nobody, and who affronted all whose
appearance was, at first sight, unpleasing to him. I behold
again, in that old president, Fufidius, who lent his money at
five per cent. per month; and Marsoeus, who gave his paternal
mansion to the actress Origo, lives once more in that noble
stripling, who is spending with a dancer of the ballet the
proceeds of a country seat which he has near the Escurial."</p>
<p>Asmodeus was about to continue, when, suddenly hearing
the sound of instruments which were tuning in the neighbourhood,
he stopped, and said to Don Cleophas: "There are
musicians at the end of this street, who are just commencing a
serenade in honour of the daughter of an <i>alcade de corte;</i> if
you would like to witness this piece of gallantry, you have only
to say so." "I am a great admirer of this sort of concert,"
replied Zambullo; "let us by all means get near them; there
may chance to be some decent voices among the lot." He
had hardly spoken, when he found himself on a house adjoining
that of the alcade.</p>
<p>The serenade was commenced by the instruments alone,
which played some new Italian airs; and then two of the
voices sang alternately the following couplets:</p>
<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 10%;">
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>
"List, while the thousand charms I sing,<br />
Which round thee such enchantment fling,<br />
That even Love has plumed his wing<br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">To seek thy bower.</span><br />
<br />
"Thy neck, that shames the mountain snow,<br />
Thy lip, that mocks the peach's glow,<br />
Bid Cupid's self a captive bow<br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Beneath thy power.</span><br />
<br />
"Thine arched brows as bows are bent<br />
To speed the shafts thine eyes have sent;<br />
E'en armed Love's own mail is rent,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Resisting them.</span><br />
<br />
"Thou art, in sooth, a queenly maid;<br />
Yet hast thou every heart betray'd,<br />
That thee its trusting pole-star made;<br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou priceless gem!</span><br />
<br />
"Oh! would that I some spell possess'd,<br />
While painting thee, to touch thy breast;<br />
Thou evening star, thou heaven of rest,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 4em;">Thou morning sun!"<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></span><br />
</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p class="p2">
<a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a>
<br />
"Si de tu hermosura quieres<br />
Una copia con mil gracias;<br />
Escucha, porque pretendo<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">El pintarla.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
"Es tu frente toda nieve<br />
Y el alabastro, batallas<br />
Offreciò al Amor, haziendo<br />
<span style="margin-left: 2em;">En ella vaya.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
"Amor labrò de tus cejas<br />
Dos arcos para su aljava:<br />
Y debaxo ha descubierto<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Quien le mata.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
"Eres duena de el lugar<br />
Vandolera de las almas,<br />
Iman de los alvedrios,<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Linda alhaja.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
"Un rasgo de tu hermosura<br />
Quisiera yo retratarla;<br />
Que es estrella, es cielo, es sol;<br />
<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">No es sino el alva."</span><br />
</p></div>
<p class="p2">"The couplets are gallant and delicate," cried the Student.
"They seem so to you," replied the Demon, "because you
are a Spaniard: if they were translated into French, for
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span>instance, they would not be greatly admired. The readers of
that nation would think the expressions too figurative; and
would discover an extravagance of imagination in the conceptions,
which would be to them absolutely laughable. Every
nation has its own standard of taste and genius, and will admit
no other: but enough of these couplets," continued he, "you
will hear music of another kind.</p>
<p>"Follow with your eyes those four men who have suddenly
appeared in the street. See! they pounce upon the serenaders:
the latter raise their instruments to defend their heads, but
their frail bucklers yield to the blows which fall on them, and
are shattered into a thousand pieces. And now see, coming
to their assistance, two cavaliers; one of whom is the gallant
donor of the serenade. With what fury they charge on the
four aggressors! Again, with what skill and valour do these
latter receive them. What fire sparkles from their swords!
See! one of the defenders of the serenade has fallen,—it is he
who gave it,—he is mortally wounded. His companion, perceiving
his fall, flies to preserve his own life; the aggressors,
having effected their object, fly also; the musicians have disappeared
during the combat; and there remains upon the spot
the unfortunate cavalier alone, who has paid for his gallantry
with his life. In the meanwhile, observe the alcade's daughter:
she is at her window, whence she has observed all that has
passed. This lady is so vain of her beauty,—although that is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>
nothing extraordinary either,—that instead of deploring its
fatal effect, she rejoices in the force of her attractions, of which
she now thinks more than ever.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 241px;">
<img src="images/ch10pic04.png" width="241" height="165" alt="The cavalier apprehended by the watch" />
</div>
<p>"This will not be the end of it. You see another cavalier,
who has this moment stopped in the street to assist, were it
possible, the unfortunate being who is swimming in his blood.
While occupied in this charitable office, see! he is surprised
by the watch. They are taking him to prison, where he will
remain many months: and he will almost pay as dearly for
this transaction as though he were the murderer himself."</p>
<p>"This is, indeed, a night of misfortunes!" said Zambullo.
"And this will not be the last of them," added the Devil.
"Were you, this moment, at the Gate of the Sun, you would
be horror-stricken at the spectacle which is now exhibiting.
Through the negligence of a domestic, a mansion is on fire,
which in its rage has already reduced to ashes the magnif<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>icent
furniture it contains, and threatens to consume the whole
building; but great as might be his loss, Don Pedro de
Escolano, to whom the house belongs, would not regret it for
a moment, could he but save his only daughter, Seraphina, who
is likely to perish in the flames."</p>
<p>Don Cleophas expressing the greatest anxiety to see this fire,
the Cripple transported him in an instant to the Gate of the
Sun, and placed him in a house exactly opposite to that which
was burning.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/ch10tailpiece.png" width="200" height="90" alt="mask tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XI.</h5>
<h4>OF THE FIRE, AND THE DOINGS OF ASMODEUS ON THE OCCASION,
OUT OF FRIENDSHIP FOR DON CLEOPHAS.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiali2.png" width="75" height="76" alt="I" />
</div>
<p>In the street beneath them nothing was to be heard
but a confused noise, arising from cries of fire
from one half of the crowd, and the more appropriate
one of water from the other. As soon as
Leandro was able to comprehend the scene, he saw that the
grand staircase, which led to the principal apartments of Don
Pedro's mansion, was all in flames, which also were issuing
with clouds of smoke, from every window in the house.</p>
<p>"The fire is at its height," said the Demon; "it has just
reached the roof, and its thousand tongues are spitting in the
air millions of brilliant sparks. It is a magnificent sight: so
much so, that the persons who have flocked from all parts
around it, to assist in extinguishing the flames, are awed into
helpless amazement. You may discern in the crowd of spectators
an old man in a dressing-gown: it is the Signor de
Escolano. Do you not hear his cries and lamentations? He
is addressing the men who surround him, and conjuring them
to rescue his child. But in vain does he implore them,—in
vain does he offer all his wealth,—none dares expose hi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>s life
to save the ill-fated lady, who is only sixteen, and whose
beauty is incomparable. The old man is in despair: he
accuses them of cowardice; he tears his hair and beard; he
beats his breast; the excess of his grief has made him almost
mad. Seraphina, poor girl, abandoned by her attendants, has
just swooned with terror in her own apartment, where, in a few
minutes, a dense smoke will stifle her. She is lost to him for
ever: no mortal can save her."</p>
<p>"Ah! Signor Asmodeus," exclaimed Leandro Perez, prompted
by feelings of generous compassion, "if you love me, yield to
the pity which desolates my heart: reject not my humble
prayer when I entreat you to save this lovely girl from the
horrid death which threatens her. I demand it, as the price
of the service I rendered but now to you. Do not, this time,
oppose yourself to my desires: I shall die with grief if you
refuse me."</p>
<p>The Devil smiled on witnessing the profound emotion of the
Student. "The fire warms you, Signor Zambullo," said he.
"Verily! you would have made an exquisite knight-errant:
you are courageous, compassionate for the sufferings of others,
and particularly prompt in the service of sorrowing damsels.
You would be just the man, now, to throw yourself in the
midst of the furnace yonder, like an Amadis, to attempt the
deliverance of the beauteous Seraphina, and to restore her safe
and sound to her disconsolate father." "Would to heaven!"
replied Don Cleophas, "that it were possible. I would undertake
the task without hesitation." "Pity that your death,"
resumed the Cripple, "would be the sole reward of so noble
an exploit! I have already told you that human courage can
avail nothing on the occasion. Well! I suppose, to gratify
you, I must meddle in the matter; so observe how I shall s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>et
about it: you can watch from hence all my operations."</p>
<p>He had no sooner spoken these words than, borrowing the
form of Leandro Perez, to the great astonishment of the
Student, he alighted unobserved amid the crowd, which he
elbowed without ceremony, and quickly passing through it,
rushed into the fire as into his natural element. The spectators
who beheld him, alarmed at the apparent madness of the
attempt, uttered a cry of horror. "What insanity!" said one;
"is it possible that interest can blind a man to such an extent
as this? None but a downright idiot could have been tempted
by any proffered recompence to dare such certain death."
"The rash youth," said another, "must be the lover of Don
Pedro's daughter; and in the desperation of his grief has
resolved to save his mistress or to perish with her."</p>
<p>In short, they predicted for him the fate of Empedocles,<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a>
when, a minute afterwards, they saw him emerge from the
flames with Seraphina in his arms. The air resounded with
acclamations, and the people were loud in their praises of the
brave cavalier who had performed so noble a feat. When
rashness ends in success, critics are silent; and so this prodigy
now appeared to the assembled multitude as a very natural
result of a Spaniard's daring.</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> A Sicilian poet and philosopher, who threw himself into the crater of
Mount Ætna.</p></div>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 242px;">
<img src="images/ch11pic01.png" width="242" height="315" alt="The rescue of Seraphina" />
</div>
<p>As the lady was still insensible, her father did not dare to
give himself up to joy: he feared that, although thus miraculously
delivered from the fire, she would die before his eyes,
from the terrible impression made upon her mind by the peril
she had encountered. He was, however, soon reassured, when,
recovering from her swoon, her eyes opened, and looking on
the old man, she said to him with an affectionate voice:
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>"Signor, I should have had more occasion for affliction than
rejoicing at the preservation of my life, were not yours also in
safety." "Ah! my child," replied her father, embracing her,
"nothing is lost since you are saved. But let us thank,"
exclaimed he, presenting to her the double of Cleophas,—"let<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>
us testify our gratitude to this young cavalier. He is your
preserver; it is to him you owe your life. How can we repay
that debt? Not all that I possess would suffice to cancel the
obligation he has conferred upon us."</p>
<p>To these observations the Devil replied, with an air which
would have done Don Cleophas credit: "Signor, I am noble,
and a Castilian. I seek no other reward for the service I have
had the happiness to render you than the pleasure of having
dried your tears, and of having saved from the flames the
lovely object which they threatened to devour;—surely such a
service is its own reward."</p>
<p>The disinterestedness and generosity of their benefactor
raised for him the highest feelings of admiration and esteem in
the breast of the Signor de Escolano, who entreated him to
call upon them, and offered him his warmest friendship. The
Devil replied in fitting terms to the frank advances of the old
man; and, after many other compliments had passed, the
father and daughter retired to a small building which remained
uninjured, at the bottom of the garden. The Demon then
rejoined the Student, who, seeing him return under his former
guise, said to him: "Signor Asmodeus, have my eyes deceived
me? Were you not but now in my shape and figure?"
"Excuse the liberty," replied the Cripple; "and I will tell
you the motive for this metamorphosis. I have formed a
grand design: I intend that you should marry Seraphina, and,
under your form, I have already inspired her with a violent
passion for your lordship. Don Pedro, also, is highly satisfied
with you, because I told him that in rescuing his daughter I
had no other object than to render them both happy, and that
the honour of having happily terminated so perilous an adventure
was a sufficient reward for a Spanish gentleman. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>
good man has a noble soul, and will not easily be outdone
in generosity; and he is at this moment deliberating within
himself whether he shall not give you his daughter, as the
most worthy return he can make to you for having saved her
life.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch11pic02.png" width="268" height="211" alt="Don Pedro and Seraphina thank Zambullo" />
</div>
<p>"Well! while he is hesitating," added the Cripple, "let us
get out of this smother into a place more favourable for continuing
our observations." And so saying, away he flew with
the Student to the top of a high church filled with splendid
tombs.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecestrapwork.png" width="200" height="97" alt="foliate strapwork tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XII.</h5>
<h4>OF THE TOMBS, OF THEIR SHADES, AND OF DEATH.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiala.png" width="75" height="76" alt="A" />
</div>
<p>Asmodeus now said to the Student: "Before we
continue our observations on the living, we will
for a few moments disturb the peaceful rest of
those who lie within this church. I will glance
over all the tombs; reveal the secrets they contain, and the
feelings which have prompted their elevation.</p>
<p>"The first of those which are on our right contains the sad
remains of a general officer, who, like another Agamemnon, on
his return from the wars found an Ægisthus in his house; in
the second, reposes a young cavalier of noble birth, who,
desirous of displaying in the sight of his mistress his strength
and skill at a bull-fight, was gored to death by his furious
opponent; and in the third lies an old prelate who left this
world rather unceremoniously. He had made his will in the
vigour of health, and was imprudent enough to read it to his
domestics, whom, like a good master, he had not forgotten:
his cook was in a hurry to receive his legacy.</p>
<p>"In the fourth mausoleum rests a courtier who never rested
in his lifetime. Even at sixty years of age, h<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>e was daily seen
in attendance on the king, from the levée until his majesty
retired for the night: in recompense for all these attentions
the king loaded him with favours." "And was he, now," said
Don Cleophas, "the man to use his influence for others?"
"For no one," replied the Devil: "he was liberal of his
promises of service to his friends, but he was religiously scrupulous
of never keeping them." "The scoundrel!" exclaimed
Leandro. "Were we to think of lopping off the superfluous
members of society,—men that like tumours on the body
politic draw all its nourishment to themselves, it is with
courtiers like this one would begin."</p>
<p>"The fifth tomb," resumed Asmodeus, "encloses the mortal
remains of a signor, ever zealous for the interests of his country,
and jealous of the glory of the king his master, in whose service
he spent the best years of his life as ambassador to Rome or
France, to England or Portugal. He ruined himself so effectually
by his embassies that he did not leave behind him
enough to defray the expenses of his funeral, which the king
has therefore paid out of gratitude for his services.</p>
<p>"Let us turn to the monuments on the other side. The
first is that of a great merchant who left enormous wealth to
his children; but, lest they should forget, in its flood, the
humble source from which it, like themselves, was derived, he
directed that his name and occupation should be graven on
his tomb, to the no small annoyance of his descendants.</p>
<p>"The next stone which surpasses every other in the church
for its magnificence, is regarded with much admiration by all
travellers." "In truth," said Zambullo, "it appears to me
deserving of its reputation. I am absolutely enchanted by
those two kneeling figures—how exquisitely are they chiselled?
Not Phidias himself could have surpassed the sculpture of this
splendid work! But tell me, dear Asmodeus, what in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>
lives were those whom these all-breathing marbles represent?"</p>
<p>The Cripple replied: "You behold a duke and his noble
spouse: the former was grand chamberlain to his majesty, and
the duchess was celebrated for her extreme piety. I must,
however, relate to you an anecdote of her grace, which you
will think rather lively for a devotee;—it is as follows.</p>
<p>"She had been for a long time in the habit of confessing
her sins to a monk of the order of Mercy, one Don Jerome
d'Aguilar, a good man, and a famous preacher, with whom she
was highly satisfied, when there suddenly appeared at Madrid
a Dominican, who captivated the town by the novelty of his
style, and the comfortable doctrines on which he insisted.
This new orator was named the brother Placidus: the people
flocked to his sermons as to those of Cardinal Ximenes; and
as his reputation grew, the court, led to hear him by curiosity,
became more loud in his praises than the town.</p>
<p>"Our duchess at first made it a point of honour to hold out
against the renown of the new-comer, nor could even curiosity
induce her to go to hear him, that she might judge for herself
of his eloquence. She acted thus from a desire to prove to
her spiritual director, that, like a good and grateful penitent,
she sympathised with him in the chagrin which the presence of
brother Placidus must have caused him. But the Dominican
made so much noise, that at last she yielded to the temptation
of seeing him, still however assured of her own fidelity: she
saw him, heard him preach, liked him, followed him; and the
little inconstant absolutely formed the project of putting herself
under his direction.</p>
<p>"It was, however, necessary to get rid of her old confessor,
and this was not an <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span>easy matter; a spiritual guide cannot be
thrown off like a lover; a devotee would not like to be thought
a coquette, or to lose the esteem of the director whom she
abandons; so what did the duchess? She sought Don Jerome,
and with an air of sorrow which spoke a real affliction, said to
him: 'Father, I am in despair: you see me in amazement;—in
a grief,—in a perplexity of mind which I cannot depict.'
'What ails you then, Madam?' replied d'Aguilar. 'Would
you believe it?' she replied; 'my husband, who has ever had
the most perfect confidence in my virtue, after having seen me
for so long a time under your guidance, has, without appearing
in the least suspicious of myself, become suddenly jealous of
you, and desires that you may no longer be my confessor.
Did you ever hear of a similar caprice? In vain have I objected
that by his suspicions he insulted not only myself, but a
man of the strictest piety, freed from the tyranny of the
passions; I only increased his jealous fears by my vindication
of your sacred honour.'</p>
<p>"Don Jerome, despite his shrewdness, was taken in by this
story: it is true that it was told with such demonstrations of
candour as would have deceived all the world. Although
sorry to lose a penitent of such importance, he did not fail to
exhort her to obey her husband's will; but the eyes of his
Reverence were opened at last, and the trick discovered, when
he learned that the lady had chosen brother Placidus as his
successor.</p>
<p>"After the grand chamberlain and his cunning spouse,"
continued the Devil, "comes a more modest tomb, which has
only recently received the ill-assorted remains of a president of
the council of the Indies and his young wife. This president,
in his sixty-third year, married a girl of twenty: he had by a
former wife two children, whom he was about to leave penniless,
when a fit of apoplexy carried him off; and his wife died<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span>
twenty-four hours after him from vexation at his not having
lived three days longer.</p>
<p>"And now we have arrived at the most respectable monument
this church contains. For it every Spaniard has as much
veneration, as the Romans had for the tomb of Romulus."
"Of what great personage, then, does it contain the ashes?"
asked Leandro Perez. "Of a prime minister of Spain," replied
Asmodeus; "and never did that monarchy possess his
equal. The king left, with confidence, the cares of government
to this great man; who so worthily acquitted himself of the
charge, that monarch and subjects were equally contented.
Under his ministry the state was ever flourishing, and its
people happy; for his maxims of government were founded on
the sure principles of humanity and religion. Still, although
his life was blameless, he was not free from apprehension at
his death,—the responsibility of his office might indeed make
the best of mortals tremble.</p>
<p>"In a corner, a little beyond the tomb of this worthy
minister, you may discern a marble tablet placed against one
of the columns. Say! shall I open the sepulchre beneath it,
and display before your eyes all that remains of a lowly maiden
who perished in the flower of her youth, when her modest
beauty won for her the love and admiration of all who beheld
her? It has returned to its primeval dust, that fragile form,
which in its life possessed so dangerous a beauty as to keep
her fond parent in continual alarm, lest its bright temptation
should expose her to the wiles of the seducer;—a misfortune
which might have befallen had she lived much longer, for
already was she the idol of three young cavaliers, who, inconsolable
for her loss, died shortly afterwards by their own hands.
Their tragical history is engraven in letters of gold on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> the stone
I shewed you, with three little figures which represent the
despairing lovers in the act of self-destruction: one is draining a
glass of poison; another is falling on his sword; and the third
is tying a cord about his neck, having chosen to die by hanging."</p>
<p>The Demon finding that the Student laughed with all his
might at this sorrowful story, and that the idea of the three
figures thus depicted on the maiden's monument amused him,
said: "Since you find food for mirth in the artist's imagination,
I am almost in the mind to carry you this moment to the
banks of the Tagus, and there shew you a monument erected
by the will of a dramatic author, in the church of a village
near Almaraz, whither he had retired, after having led a long
and joyous life at Madrid. This scribe had produced a vast
number of comedies full of ribald wit and low obscenity; but
repenting of his outrages upon decency ere he died, and
desirous of expiating the scandal they had caused, he directed
that they should carve upon his tomb a sort of pile, composed
of books, bearing the names of the various pieces he had
written, and that beside it they should place the image of
Modesty, who, with lighted torch, should be about to consign
them to the flames.</p>
<p>"Besides the dead whose monuments I have described to
you, there are within this church an infinity of others without a
stone to mark the spot where their ashes repose. I see their
shades wandering solemnly around: they glide along, passing
and repassing one after another before us, without disturbing
the profound quiet which reigns in this holy place. They
speak not; but I read in their silence all their thoughts." "I
am annoyed without measure," exclaimed Don Cleophas, "that
I cannot, like you, have the pleasure of beholding them!"
"That pleasure I can give you then," replied Asmodeus;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>
"nothing is more easy." The Demon just touched the Student's
eyes, and by a delusion caused him to perceive a great number
of pallid spectres.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 187px;">
<img src="images/ch12pic01.png" width="187" height="266" alt="The sculpture of Modesty burning the books" />
</div>
<p>As he looked on these apparitions, Zambullo trembled.
"What!" said the Devil to him, "you are agitated! Is it with
fear of these ghostly visitants? Let not their ghastly apparel
alarm you! Look at it well! It will adorn your own majestic
person some of these days. It is the uniform of the shades:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>
collect yourself, and fear nothing. Is it possible your assurance
can fail you now,—you, who have had the daring to look on
me? These gentry are harmless compared with myself."</p>
<p>The Student, at these words, recalling his wonted courage,
looked on the phantoms with tranquillity; which the Demon
perceiving: "Bravo!" said he. "Well! now," he continued,
"regard these shadows with attention! You will perceive that
the occupant of the stately mausoleum is confounded with the
inhabitant of the unstoned grave. The ranks by which they
were distinguished in their lives died with them; and the grand
chamberlain and the prime minister are no more now than the
lowliest citizen that moulders in this church. The greatness
of these noble shades ended with their days, as that of the
strutting hero of a tragedy falls with the curtain."</p>
<p>"I have a remark to make," interrupted Leandro. "I see
a lonely spirit hovering about, and seeming to shun all contact
with his fellows." "Rather say," replied the Demon, "and
you will speak the truth, that his fellows shun all company with
him: and what now think you is that poor ghost? He was an
old notary, who had the vanity to be buried in a leaden coffin;
which has so offended the self-love of the more humble tenants
of the surrounding tombs, that they resolved to black-ball him,
and will not therefore permit his shade to mix with theirs."</p>
<p>"I have another observation yet to make," resumed Don
Cleophas. "Two shadows, just now, on meeting, stopped for
a moment to look upon each other, and then passed each on
his way." "They are, or rather were, two intimate friends,"
replied the Devil; "one was a painter, and the other a
musician: they both drew their inspiration from the bottle;
but were, otherwise, honest fellows enough. It is worthy of
note that they both brushed off in the same year; and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>when
their spirits meet, struck by the remembrance of their former
delights, they say to each other by their sorrowful but expressive
silence: 'Ah! my friend, we shall drink no more.'"</p>
<p>"Grammercy!" cried the Student, "what do I see. At the
other end of the church are two spirits, who are passing along
together, but badly matched. Their forms and manners are
immensely different: one is of enormous height, and moves
with corresponding gravity, while the other is of dwarf-like
stature, and passes o'er the ground like a breath." "The
giant," replied the Cripple, "was a German, who lost his life
in a debauch, by drinking three healths with tobacco mixed
inadvertently in his wine; and the little ghost is that of a
Parisian, who, with the gallantry belonging to his countrymen,
was imprudent enough, on entering this very church, to
present the holy water to a young lady who was leaving it: as
a reward for his politeness, he was saluted on the same day
with the contents of a carbine, which left him here a moral for
all too attentive Frenchmen.</p>
<p>"For myself," continued Asmodeus, "I have been looking
at three spirits which I discerned among the crowd; and I
must tell you by what means they were separated from their
earthly companions. They animated the charming forms of
as many female performers, who made as much noise at
Madrid, in their time, as did Origo, Cytheris and Arbuscula,
in theirs, at Rome; and, like their said prototypes, they
possessed the exquisite art of amusing mankind in public, and
of privately ruining the same amiable animal. But, alas! all
things must have an end, and these were the finales of those
celebrated ladies: one died suddenly of envy, at an apopletic
fit of applause, from the pit, which fell upon a lovely first-night;
another found in excessive good cheer, at home, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>
infallible drop which follows it; and, the third, undertaking
the dangerous character, for an actress, of a vestal, became so
excited with her part that she died of a miscarriage behind the
scenes.</p>
<p>"But we will leave to their reposes(!) all these shades," again
continued the Demon; "we have passed them sufficiently in
review. I will now present to your sight a spectacle which, as
a man, must impress you with a deeper feeling than the sight
of the dead. I am about, by the same power which has rendered
the shades of the departed visible to your sight, to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>
present to you the vision of Death himself. Yes! you shall
behold that insatiable enemy of the human race, who prowls
unceasingly in the haunts of man, unperceived by his victims;
who surrounds the earth, in his speed, in the twinkling of an
eye; and who strikes by his power, its most distant inhabitants
at the same moment.</p>
<p>"Look towards the east! He rises on your sight. A
million birds of baneful omen fly before his advent in terror,
and announce his presence with funereal cries. His tireless
hand is armed with the fatal scythe which mows successive
generations as they spring from earth. But if, as mocking at
humanity, on one wing is depicted war, pestilence, famine,
shipwreck, conflagration, with other direful modes by which he
sweeps upon his prey, the other shows the priests who offer to
him daily hecatombs in sport; as youthful doctors, who receive
from himself their diplomas, after swearing, in his presence,
never to practise surgery or medicine contrary to the rules of
the courts."</p>
<p>Although Don Cleophas suspected that all he saw was an
illusion, and that it was merely to gratify his taste for the
marvellous that the Devil raised this form of Death before his
eyes, he could not look on it without trembling. He assumed,
however, all the courage he was possessed of, and said to the
Demon: "This fearful spectre will not, I suppose, pass vainly
over Madrid: he will doubtless leave some awful traces of his
flight?" "Yes! certainly," replied the Cripple; "he comes
not here for nothing; and it depends but on yourself to be the
witness of his visitation." "I take you at your word," exclaimed
the Student; "let us follow in his train; let me visit
with him the unhappy families on whom he will expend his
present wrath. What tears are about to flow!" "Beyond a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>
doubt," replied Asmodeus; "but many which come at convenience.
Death, despite his horrors, causes at least as much
joy as grief."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;">
<img src="images/ch12pic02.png" width="267" height="239" alt="Death flies over the poor man's bed" />
</div>
<p>Our two spectators took their flight, and followed the grim
monarch in his progress. He entered first a modest house,
whose owner lay in helpless sickness on his bed; the autocrat
but touched the poor man with his scythe, and he expired in
the midst of his weeping relations, who instantly commenced
an affecting concert of cries and lamentions. "There is no
mockery here," said the Demon: "the wife and children of
this worthy citizen loved him with real affection: besides, t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>hey
depended on him for their bread; and the belly is rarely a
hypocrite.</p>
<p>"Not so, however, is it in the next house, in which you
perceive his grisly majesty now occupied in releasing a bed-ridden
old gentleman from his pains. He is an aged counsellor
who, having always lived a bachelor of law, has passed his life
as badly as he could, that he might leave behind him a good
round sum for the benefit of his three nephews, who have
flocked round his bed on hearing that he is about to quit it, at
last. They of course displayed an extreme affliction, and very
well they did it; but are now, you see, letting fall the mask,
and are preparing to do their duties as heirs, after having performed
their parts as relations. How they will rummage the
old gentleman's effects! What heaps of gold and silver will
they discover! 'How delightful!' said one of these heart-broken
descendants to another, this moment,—'how delightful
is it for nephews to be blessed with avaricious old uncles, who
renounce the pleasures of life for their sakes!'" "A superb
funeral oration," said Leandro Perez. "Oh! as to that," replied
the Devil, "the majority of wealthy parents, who live to a good
old age, ought not to expect a better from their own children.</p>
<p>"While these heritors are joyfully seeking the treasures of
the deceased, Death is directing his flight to a large house, in
which resides a young nobleman who has the small-pox. This
noble, one of the brightest ornaments of the court, is about to
perish, just as his star is rising, despite the famed physician
who attends him,—or rather because he is attended by this
learned doctor.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 230px;">
<img src="images/ch12pic03.png" width="230" height="279" alt="Death approaches the pious monk" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p>
<p>"But see! with what rapidity does the fatal scythe perform
its operations. Already has it completed the destiny of the
youthful lord, and its unblunted edge is turned elsewhere. It
hovers over yonder convent; it darts into its deepest cell,
sweeps over a pious monk, and cuts the thread of the penitent
and mortifying life that he has led during forty years. Death,
all-fearful as he is, had no terrors for this holy man; so, in
revenge, he seeks a mansion where his presence will be unwelcome
indeed. He flies towards a licentiate of importance,
who has only recently been appointed to the bishopric of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>
Albarazin. This prelate is busily occupied with preparations
for repairing to his diocese with all the pomp which in our day
accompanies the princes of the church. Nevertheless, he is
about to take his departure for the other world, where he will
arrive with as few followers as the poor monk; and I am not
sure that he will be quite as favourably received."</p>
<p>"Oh heavens!" cried Zambullo; "Death stoops upon the
palace of the king. Alas! one stroke of his fatal scythe, and
ail Spain will be plunged in dreadful consternation." "Well
may you tremble," said the Cripple; "for the barbarian has
no more respect for kings than for their meanest slaves. But be
not alarmed," he added, a moment afterwards, "he aims not at
the monarch yet; his business now is with a courtier only, one
of those noble lords whose only occupation is to swell his
master's train: such ministers as these are not exactly those
the state can least afford to lose."</p>
<p>"But it would seem," replied the Student, "that the spectre
king is not contented with so mean a prize as the parasite you
speak of. See! he hovers still about the royal house; and,
this time, near the chamber of the Queen." "Just so," replied
the Devil, "and he might be worse employed: he is about to
cut the windpipe of an amiable dame who delights to sow
divisions in her sovereign's court; and who is now mortally
chagrined, because two ladies whom she had cleverly set by
the ears, have been unreasonable enough to become sincerely
reconciled with each other.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 244px;">
<img src="images/ch12pic04.png" width="244" height="204" alt="The grieving wife tears her hair" />
</div>
<p>"And now, my master, you will hear cries of real affliction,"
continued the Demon. "Death<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> enters that splendid mansion
to the left; and a scene as touching as the world's stage offers
is about to be acted there. Look, if you can, on the heart-rending
tragedy." "In truth," said Don Cleophas, "I perceive
a lady struggling in the arms of her attendants, and tearing her
hair with signs of deepest grief. Tell me its cause!" "Look
in the room adjoining, and you will see cause enough," replied
the Devil. "You observe the man stretched on that stately
couch: it is her dying husband,—to her a loss indeed! Their
story is affecting, and deserves to be written:—I have a great
mind to relate it to you."</p>
<p>"You will give me great pleasure in so doing," interrupted
Leandro: "the sorrows of this world do not move less than
its vices and follies amuse me." "It is rather long," resumed
Asmodeus, "but it is too interesting to annoy you on that
account. Besides, I will confess to you, that, all Demon as I
am, I am sick of following the track of Death: let us leav<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>e him
in his search of newer victims." "With all my heart," replied
Zambullo: "I am more curious to hear your promised narrative
Of suffering humanity, than to see my fellow-mortals, one
after another, hurried into eternity." The Cripple then
commenced as follows, after having transported the Student
on to the roof of one of the highest houses in the Strada
d'Alcala.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="foliate cul-de-lampe tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XIII.</h5>
<h4>THE FORCE OF FRIENDSHIP.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiala.png" width="75" height="76" alt="A" />
</div>
<p>A young cavalier of Toledo, accompanied by his
valet-de-chambre, was journeying with all possible
speed from the place of his birth, in order to
avoid the consequences of a tragical adventure
in which he had unfortunately been engaged. He was about
two leagues from the town of Valencia, when, at the entrance
of a wood, he fell in with a lady who was alighting hastily
from a carriage. No veil obscured her charms, which were
more than enough to dazzle a youthful beholder; and, as the
lovely damsel appeared in trouble, it is not to be wondered
that the cavalier, imagining that she sought assistance, offered
her his protection and his services.</p>
<p>"Generous unknown," said the lady, "I will not refuse your
proffered aid: Heaven, it would seem, has sent you here to
avert a dreadful misfortune. Two cavaliers have met to fight
within this wood;—I this moment saw them enter. Hasten
with me, I entreat you, and assist me to prevent their fatal
design." As she spoke, she plunged into the forest, and the
Toledan, throwing his horse's rein to his attendant, followed
her as quickly as he was able.</p>
<p>They had not gone a hundred yards before they heard the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>
clashing of arms, and almost immediately discovered the two
gentlemen, who were thrusting at each other with becoming
fury. The Toledan drew his sword but to separate theirs;
and by its assistance, and by entreaties uttered in exclamations,
he managed to suspend their pastime, while he inquired the
subject of their difference.</p>
<p>"Brave cavalier," said one of the combatants, "you see in
me, Don Fabricio de Mendoza, and in my opponent, Don
Alvaro Ponza. We both love Donna Theodora, the lady by
whom you are accompanied; but we love to little purpose,
for, despite our endeavours to win her affections, she treats our
attentions with disdain. For myself, I should have been contented
to worship an unwilling deity; but my rival, instead of
acting with as much wisdom, has resolved to have the shrine
to himself, and so has brought me here."</p>
<p>"It is true," interrupted Don Alvaro, "that I have so determined;
and it is because I believe that, my rival away, Donna
Theodora might deign to listen to my vows. I seek then the
life of Don Fabricio, to rid myself of a man who stands in the
way of my happiness."</p>
<p>"Signor Cavalier," said the Toledan, "I cannot approve of
your reasons for duelling; besides that, you are injuring the
lady who is the object of your strife. You must be aware that
it will soon be known that you have been fighting for her; and
the honour of your mistress should surely be dearer to you
than happiness or life itself. And what, too, can he who may
be successful expect to gain by his victory? Can he hope
that, after having staked a lady's reputation on the quarrel, she
will thank him for his folly? What madness! Believe me, it
were far better, that, acting as becomes the names you bear,
you should control your jealous wrath. Be men and pledge
me your sacred words to bind yourselves by the terms I s<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span>hall
propose to you, and your quarrel may be adjusted without a
deed of blood."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic01.png" width="262" height="275" alt="The Toledan cavalier parts the duellists" />
</div>
<p>"Ah! but how?" cried Don Alvaro. "Why," replied the
Toledan, "let the lady determine the question; let her choose
between yourself and Don Fabricio; and let the slighted lover,
instead of seeking to injure his more fortunate rival, l<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>eave the
field at once." "Agreed!" said Don Alvaro; "and I swear
it by all that is sacred. Let Donna Theodora decide between
us. She may prefer, if she will, my rival to myself: this even
would be less unbearable than the dread suspense in which I
now exist." "And I," said Don Fabricio in his turn,—"I call
Heaven to witness, that if the divine object of my love declares
not in my favour, I will fly from the sight of her perfections;
and if I cannot forget them, I will at least behold them no
more."</p>
<p>On this the Toledan, turning to Donna Theodora, said:
"Madam, it is for you now, by a single word, to disarm these
two rivals for your love: you have only to name him whose
constancy your favours would reward." "Signor Cavalier,"
replied the lady, "try some other means of reconciling them.
Why should I become the victim of their disagreement? I
esteem, in all sincerity, both Don Fabricio and Don Alvaro;
but I love neither: and it were surely unjust, that, to prevent
the stain with which their disputes may sully my name, I should
be compelled to excite hopes that my heart disavows."</p>
<p>"It is too late to dissemble, Madam," resumed the Toledan;
"you must now declare yourself. Although these cavaliers
are equally good-looking, I doubt not that you can discern
more merit in one than in the other; and I am confirmed
in that opinion by the alarm with which but now I saw you
agitated."</p>
<p>"You misinterpret that alarm," replied Donna Theodora.
"The loss of either of these gentlemen would affect me beyond
a doubt, and I should never cease to reproach myself with his
death, although its innocent cause; but if I appeared to you
greatly agitated, I can assure you that it was the peril to which
my own honour was exposed that excited all my fear."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
<p>The impetuous Don Alvaro Ponza now lost all patience.
"Enough!" he exclaimed, with an air of fury; "since the
lady refuses to end the matter peaceably, let the fate of arms
decide;" and as he spoke, he raised his weapon against Don
Fabricio, who on his part prepared to receive him.</p>
<p>On this, the lady, more alarmed by the fury of Don Alvaro
than decided by her own inclination, exclaimed wildly: "Hold!
noble cavaliers; I will do as you desire. Since there is no
other means of preventing a strife in which my reputation is
involved, I declare in favour of Don Fabricio de Mendoza."</p>
<p>These words had no sooner escaped her lips, than the discarded
Ponza, without uttering a syllable, hastened to his horse,
which he had fastened to a tree, released it, threw himself
into the saddle, and disappeared, after casting one look of intense
fury on his rival and implacable mistress. The fortunate
Mendoza, on the contrary, was in ecstasies; now humbling
himself in his joy at the feet of Donna Theodora, and now
embracing the Toledan, unable to contain the satisfaction
with which his heart was filled, or to find words to express
his gratitude.</p>
<p>In the meanwhile the lady, freed from the presence of the
burning Don Alvaro, had become more tranquil; and it was
with grief she reflected that she had engaged to permit the
addresses of a lover, whom, while she truly esteemed his merit,
her heart told her she could never love.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic02.png" width="268" height="206" alt="Don Fabricio at the feet of Donna Theodora" />
</div>
<p>"Signor Don Fabricio," she said to him, timidly, "I trust
you will not abuse the preference I have just avowed for you;
you owe it only to the necessity in which I found myself
placed of declaring between yourself and Don Alvaro. I can
say with truth that I have ever thought more highly of you
than of him;—there are noble qualities that you possess of
which Alvaro cannot boast; I have always looked on you with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>
justice as the most perfect cavalier Valencia contains; I have
even no hesitation in saying that the attentions of such a man
would be flattering to the vanity of any woman; but, how
honourable soever they might be to me, I feel bound to tell
you that my heart is still untouched, and that it is with sorrow
I behold in you an affection for myself so great as your every
action displays. I will not, however, take from you all hope
of winning my affections; my present indifference may arise
from the effects of that grief which still fills my bosom for the
loss of my late husband, Don Andrea de Cifuentes, who died
about a year ago. Although we were not long united, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>
although he was advanced in years when my parents, dazzled
by his riches, compelled me to espouse him, I was yet much
afflicted by his loss, and the wound is still green which his
death inflicted.</p>
<p>"Ah! was he not worthy of my regret?" she added. "He
was indeed unlike those aged and jealous tyrants, who, unable
to persuade themselves that a youthful wife can be virtuous
enough to excuse their weakness, watch all her motions with
suspicion, or place over her some hideous duenna as a spy.
Alas! he had in my honour a confidence of which a young
and much-loved husband would be hardly capable. His kindness
was unbounded, and his only study, to anticipate my every
wish. You may suppose, then, Mendoza, that such a man as
Don Andrea de Cifuentes is not easily forgotten. No! he is
ever present in my thoughts; and the fond recollection of his
amiability and love for me may excuse my indifference for
objects which might otherwise attract me."</p>
<p>"Ah! Madam," exclaimed Don Fabricio, interrupting Donna
Theodora, "how great is my delight to learn from those lovely
lips that it is from no dislike for myself that you have slighted
all my cares! I can still then hope that the day will come
when my constancy may be rewarded." "It will not be my
fault if that do not happen," replied the lady, "since I consent
that you should visit me, and will not forbid you to speak to
me of love. You shall strive, then, to win me to the world
and to yourself by your attentions; and I promise to conceal
not from you any favourable impression you may make: but
if, Mendoza, despite your efforts, my heart refuses to be happy,
remember that I give you no right to reproach me."</p>
<p>Don Fabricio was about to reply; but the lady, placing her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>
hand in that of the Toledan, turned away, and hastened towards
her carriage. He therefore unbound his horse, and leading it
through the thicket by the bridle, followed his mistress, and
arrived just in time to see her enter the vehicle, which she did
with as much agitation as she had left it, although arising from
a very different cause. The Toledan and himself accompanied
Donna Theodora to the gate of Valencia, where they separated,—she
taking the road to her own house, and Don Fabricio
taking the Toledan with him to his.</p>
<p>After a slight repose, Mendoza entertained the stranger with
a sumptuous repast, and in the course of conversation asked
him what had brought him to Valencia, and whether he proposed
to stay there for any time. "For as short a time as possible,"
replied the Toledan; "I am here only on my way to
the sea, that I may embark in the first vessel that leaves the
shores of Spain. It matters little to me in what part of the
world I go to end a life of unhappiness, except that the more
distant from this fatal clime the better."</p>
<p>"What do I hear?" exclaimed Don Fabricio with surprise.
"What can have disgusted you with your native land, and
caused you to look with hate on that which all men love so
fondly?" "After what has occurred to me," replied the
Toledan, "my country is to me unbearable, and to leave it,
for ever, my only desire." "Ah! Signor Cavalier," cried
Mendoza, affected with compassion, "I am impatient to learn
your misfortunes! If I cannot relieve them, I am at least
disposed to share them. Your appearance from the first
prepossessed me in your favour, your bearing and manners
charmed me, and already I feel deeply interested in your
destiny."</p>
<p>"You afford me, Signor Don Fabricio," replied the Tole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>dan,
"the greatest consolation I could receive; and in return for
the kindness you are pleased to express for me, it delights me
to be able to say, with truth, that on seeing you with Don
Alvaro Ponza my heart inclined towards yourself. A feeling,
with which I never was inspired at the first sight of any one
before, made me fear lest Donna Theodora should decide in
favour of your rival; and it was with joy I heard her state her
preference for you. Since then, you have so gained upon that
first impression, that, far from desiring to conceal my griefs, I
seek with a sort of pleasure to unbosom them to you: Learn
then my misfortunes.</p>
<p>"I was born in Toledo, and my name is Don Juan de Zarata.
I lost my parents while almost in my infancy; so that at an
early age I found myself in the enjoyment of a yearly income
of four thousand ducats, which I inherited from them. As my
hand was at my own disposal, and as I was rich enough to be
able to bestow it where my heart should dictate, I married,
early, a maiden of exquisite beauty; careless that she added
nothing to my fortune, and that her rank was inferior to my
own. I loved her, and I was happy; and that I might enjoy
to the full the pleasure of possessing one so dear to me, I had
not been long married before I sought with her a small estate
which I possessed a few leagues from Toledo.</p>
<p>"We lived there, for some time, in unity and bliss; when
it chanced that the Duke de Naxera, whose seat was in the
neighbourhood, came one day, when he was hunting, to refresh
himself at my house. He saw my wife, and unfortunately
became enamoured of her. I suspected his passion from the
first; and was not long before I was too certainly convinced of
its existence by the eagerness with which he sought my friendship,
that up to this time he had wholly neglected. His hunting
parties were now never complete without me; he loaded <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>me
with presents, and still more with his offers of service.</p>
<p>"I became alarmed by his evident design, and prepared for
our return to Toledo. Heaven doubtless inspired me with
this resolution; for, had I acted upon it, and thus taken from
the Duke his opportunities of seeing my wife, I should have
avoided all the misfortunes which followed a contrary course.
My confidence in her virtue, however, soon reassured me. It
appeared to me impossible that a being whom I had raised
from obscurity to her present position, from motives of affection
alone, could be ungrateful enough to consent to my disgrace.
Alas! I little thought that ambition and vanity, two
feelings common to every woman, were the greatest vices in
the character of my wife.</p>
<p>"No sooner, therefore, had the Duke managed to inform her
of his sentiments towards her, than she took credit to herself
for so important a conquest. The attachment of a man
approached by all the world with the titles of Your Grace and
Your Highness tickled her pride, and filled her mind with the
most absurd notions; so that she was indefinitely exalted in
her own opinion, and thought the less of me. All that I had
done for love of her, instead of exciting feelings of gratitude,
now appeared but a contemptible offering to her charms, of
which she no longer thought me worthy; and she seems not
to have doubted that if the noble duke, who flattered her by
his homage, had seen her before she had thrown herself away
on me, he would have eagerly sought her hand. Infatuated by
these absurd notions, and seduced by some well-timed presents
which flattered her vanity, she yielded to the secret assiduities
of his grace.</p>
<p>"Although they corresponded frequently, I had not for some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>
time the slightest suspicion of their communications; but, at
last, my eyes were unfortunately opened to my disgrace. One
day I returned from hunting somewhat earlier than usual, and
went directly to the apartment of my wife, who expected
nothing less than to see me. She had just received a letter
from her paramour, and was at the moment preparing a reply.
She could not disguise her emotion at my unexpected coming;
and as I perceived on the table paper and ink, I trembled,—for
the truth rushed on my mind with the speed of all unwelcome
conclusions. I commanded her to show me what she
was writing, which she refused; so that I was compelled to use
violence in order to satisfy my jealous curiosity, and drew from
her bosom, in spite of her resistance, a letter which was to the
following effect:—</p>
<blockquote>
<p>"'Must I for ever languish in the despair of seeing thee
again? Hast thou then cruelty enough to call sweet hopes
into my heart, and let the short-lived blisses perish from delay?
Don Juan leaves thee daily for the chase, or to repair to
Toledo: would not Love then snatch these happy opportunities
with eager joy? Think of the passion which consumes
my life! Pity me, lady! and remember that if the happiness
is great we hope to share, the greater is the torment which bars
us its possession.'</p></blockquote>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 232px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic03.png" width="232" height="250" alt="The Toledan reads the Duke's letter" />
</div>
<p>"As I read this epistle, my blood boiled with fury. My
hand sought the hilt of my stiletto, and my first inclination
was to plunge it in the unfaithful breast of her who had betrayed
me; but a moment's reflection told me that I should thus
revenge but half my shame, and that another victim was
demanded to appease my wrath. I therefore controlled myself,
and, dissimulating as well as I was able, said to my wife:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>
'Madam, you have done wrong in listening to the duke; the
splendour of his rank should not have been sufficient to dazzle
you. However, youth finds delight in the trappings of nobility;
and I am willing to believe that your guilt extends no further,
and that my honour is still in safe keeping with you. I forgive,
then, your want of discretion; but it is on condition that you
return to the paths of duty, and that henceforth, sensible to
the affection which animates my bosom, you will think it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>
enough to deserve it.'</p>
<p>"I did not wait for a reply, but left the apartment; as much
to give her an opportunity of collecting herself, as to seek that
solitude in which alone my mind could free itself from the
anger which inflamed me. If I did not regain my tranquillity,
I at least affected an air of composure during that and the
following day; and on the third, pretending to have business
of importance which called me to Toledo, I told my wife that
I was obliged to leave her for some time, and that I did so in
full confidence of her virtue and good conduct.</p>
<p>"I set out; but, instead of going to Toledo, as soon as night
came to assist my project, I returned home secretly, and concealed
myself in the room of a trusty servant, whence I could
observe any one who entered the house. I had no doubt that
the duke was informed of my absence, and that he would not
fail to make the most of so desirable a circumstance. How I
longed to surprise them together! I promised myself an ample
vengeance.</p>
<p>"Nevertheless, I was deceived in my expectations. Instead
of remarking any preparations for the reception of an expected
lover, I on the contrary perceived that the doors were scrupulously
closed against everybody; and three days having passed
without the appearance of the duke, or any of his people, I
began to think that my wife had repented of her fault, and that
she had broken off all connection with her seducer.</p>
<p>"As this opinion took possession of my mind, my desire of
revenge dissipated; until, at last, yielding to those emotions of
affection for my wife which anger had only suspended, I
hastened to her apartment, and, embracing her with transport,
exclaimed: 'Madam, I restore you my esteem and my love.
I come to tell you that I have not been to Toledo, but th<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>at I
pretended to have gone there only to test your discretion. You
can forgive this deception in a husband whose jealousy was
not entirely without foundation. I feared lest your mind,
seduced by too brilliant illusions, should be incapable of a
return to virtue; but, thank Heaven! you have seen your error,
and I trust that our felicity may henceforth be unbroken.'</p>
<p>"My wife appeared affected at these words, and, while tears
fell from her eyes, exclaimed: 'Unhappy have I been, to give
you reason to suspect my fidelity! In vain do I detest myself
for having so justly excited your anger against me! In vain is
it that, since I saw you, my eyes have unceasingly o'erflowed
with tears; my grief and my remorse are alike unavailing; I
can never regain the confidence I have lost.' 'I restore it to
you,' I replied, interrupting her, afflicted by the sorrow which
she displayed—'I restore it to you; you have repented of the
past; and I will, too gladly, forget it.'</p>
<p>"I kept my word; and, from that moment, my love for her
was as great and as confiding as ever. I began again to taste
those joys which had been so cruelly interrupted; they came
to me, indeed, with redoubled zest; for my wife, as though she
had been anxious to efface from my recollection all traces of
the injury she had done me, took greater pains to please me.
I thought I found more warmth in her caresses; in short, I
almost rejoiced at the event which had told me how much was
still left for me to love.</p>
<p>"Shortly after our reconciliation I was seized with illness.
Although my ailment was not alarming, it is inconceivable how
deeply it appeared to afflict my wife. All day she was by my
side; and at night, as I was in a separate room, she never
failed to visit me frequently, that she might convince herself
of the progress of my recovery: her whole care appeared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>
devoted to me, and all her anxiety to anticipate my every want;
it seemed as though her whole life depended solely on mine.
You may suppose that I was not insensible to all this show of
tenderness, and I was never weary of expressing to her my
gratitude for her attentions. However, Signor Mendoza, they
were not so sincere as I imagined.</p>
<p>"My health was beginning to improve, when, one night, my
valet-de-chambre came to awaken me. 'Signor,' said he, with
emotion, 'I am sorry to disturb your repose; but I am too
much interested in your honour to conceal from you what is at
this moment passing beneath your roof. The Duke of Naxera
is with my mistress.'</p>
<p>"I was so astounded by this information, that I looked for
some time at my servant without being able to speak; and the
more I thought of what he told me, the more difficulty I found
in believing it. 'No! Fabio,' at last I said to him; 'no, it is
impossible that my wife can be capable of such infamy! You
must be mistaken.' 'Signor,' replied Fabio; 'would to Heaven
that I could think so! But my eyes are not easily deceived.
Ever since you have been ill, I have suspected that the duke
was introduced almost nightly into my lady's apartment. This
evening, I concealed myself, to confirm or dispel my suspicions;
and I have but too good reason to know that they were not
unfounded.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 245px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic04.png" width="245" height="175" alt="Fabio awakens his master" />
</div>
<p>"I hesitated no longer; but arose, and putting on my dressing
gown, armed myself with my sword, and went in a perfect
phrenzy towards my wife's chamber, Fabio following with a
light. As we entered the room, the alarmed duke, who was
sitting on the bed, rose, and taking a pistol from his girdle,
aimed at me and fired; but thanks to his confusion, he missed
me. I rushed on him, and in a moment thrust my sword in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>to
his heart. Then turning to my wife, who was already more
dead than alive: 'and you!' said I, 'infamous wretch, receive
the reward of your perfidy.' And so saying, I plunged my
sword, still reeking with the blood of her paramour, into her
bosom.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic05.png" width="254" height="270" alt="The Toledan prepares to kill his wife" />
</div>
<p>"I am sensible of the crime my fury induced me to commit;
and I acknowledge, Signor Don Fabricio, that a faithless spouse
may be sufficiently punished without taking her life; but where
is the man who, under such excitement, could have preserved
the cool temperament of the judge? Picture to yourself this
perfidious woman attending me in sickness; imagine if you can,
all that display of affection which she lavished upon me; think
of all the circumstances,—of the enormity of her deception,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span>
and then say if her death weighs heavily against a husband
animated with rage, to whom all this comes suddenly as lightning
from the cloud.</p>
<p>"My tragical history is finished in a few words. My vengeance
thus fully satiated, I dressed hastily, certain that I had
no time to lose; for I knew well that the duke's relations
would search fo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>r me in every corner of Spain, and that, as the
power of my own family would be but as a feather in the scale
to turn their wrath, there was no safety for me but in a foreign
country. I therefore chose two of my best horses, and taking
with me all the jewels and money I possessed, I left my house
before daybreak, followed by the servant of whose fidelity I
had recently been so well assured, and took the road to
Valencia with the intention of sailing in the first vessel which
should steer for Italy. It thus happened that, passing yesterday
near the wood in which you were, I met Donna Theodora,
and, at her entreaty, followed to assist in separating yourself
and Don Alvaro."</p>
<p>When the Toledan had ended this narrative, Don Fabricio
said to him: "Signor Don Juan, you have justly avenged yourself
on the Duke de Naxera. Be not alarmed as to anything
his relations can do; you shall stay, if you please, with me,
until an opportunity offers for your passage into Italy. My
uncle is governor of Valencia; you will therefore be more secure
from danger here than elsewhere, and you will remain with one
who would be united with you henceforth in bonds of strictest
friendship."</p>
<p>Zarata replied to Mendoza in terms which expressed his
grateful sense of the former's kindness, and at once accepted
the proffered asylum. "And now it is, Signor Don Cleophas,"
continued Asmodeus, "that I shall exhibit to you the power
of sympathy: such was the inclination which drew these two
young cavaliers towards each other, that, in a few days, there
existed between them a friendship not surpassed by that of
Orestes and Pylades. With dispositions alike formed for
virtue, they possessed a similarity of tastes which was certain
to render that which pleased Don Fabricio equally agreeable to
Don Juan—their characters were identical; in short, they were
formed for each other. Don Fabricio, especially, was charm<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span>ed
with the deportment of his new friend; and lost no opportunity
of endeavouring to exalt him in the estimation of the Donna
Theodora.</p>
<p>"This lady now received them frequently at her house; but,
though her doors were open at the bidding of Mendoza, her
heart was still inaccessible to his attentions. Mortified to find
his love thus slighted, he could not forbear complaining of her
indifference to his friend, who endeavoured to console him
with the assurance that the most insensible of women might be
won to feeling at the last, and that nothing was wanting to
lovers but patience to await for the favourable moment: he
bade him then to keep up his courage, and to hope that,
sooner or later, his mistress would yield to his assiduity and
affection. This advice, though philosophical enough, was insufficient
to assure the timid Mendoza, who began to despair
of success with the widow of Cifuentes; and the anxiety of suspense
so preyed upon his spirits, that Don Juan could not
behold him without feelings of compassion. Alas! poor Don
Juan was himself ere long more to be pitied than his friend.</p>
<p>"Whatever reason the Toledan had to be disgusted with
the sex, after the abominable treachery he had met with, he
could not long look upon the Donna Theodora without loving
her. Far, however, from yielding to a passion which he felt
to be an injury to Mendoza, he struggled with all his might to
vanquish it; and convinced that this was only to be accomplished
by flying from the bright eyes which had kindled the
flame, he wisely resolved to shun the lady who possessed them.
Consequently whenever Don Fabricio asked his company to
his mistress's house, he managed to find some pretext to excuse
himself from going with him.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p>
<p>"On the other hand, Mendoza never went to see the Donna
Theodora, but she asked him why he no longer was accompanied
by Don Juan. One day, when, for the hundredth time
she put this question to her lover, the latter answered, smiling,
that his friend had his reasons for absenting himself. 'And
what reasons, then, can he have for flying me?' said Donna
Theodora. 'Why, madam,' replied Mendoza; 'yesterday,
when I pressed him, as usual, to come with me, and expressed
some surprise at his refusal to do so, he confided to me a
secret, which I must reveal in order to justify him in your
eyes. He told me that he had formed a liaison in Valencia;
and, that as he had not long to stay in this town, every moment
was precious to him.'</p>
<p>"'I cannot exactly admit the validity of his excuse,' replied
the widow of Cifuentes, blushing; 'it is not permitted to lovers
that they should abandon their friends.' Don Fabricio, who
observed the colour which tinged the cheeks of the Donna
Theodora, thought that self-love alone had caused the blush,
and that, like all pretty women, she could not bear to be
neglected, even by a person who was indifferent to her. He
was, however, deceived. A deeper feeling than wounded
vanity inspired the emotion she displayed. She loved: but for
fear that Mendoza should discover her sentiments, she changed
the subject, and, during the conversation that followed, affected
a gaiety which would have deceived him, had he not already
deceived himself.</p>
<p>"As soon as Donna Theodora was alone, she abandoned
herself to reflection. Then, for the first time, she felt all the
strength of the attachment she had conceived for Don Juan;
and, little thinking how deeply that feeling was shared by its
object,—'Oh Love!' she cried: 'cruel and unjust art thou,
who delightest to kindle passion in the hearts of t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>hose who care
not for each other! I love not Don Fabricio, and he adores
me; I languish for Don Juan, and his heart is possessed by
another. Ah! Mendoza, reproach me not with my indifference
for thee; thy friend has indeed avenged thee.'</p>
<p>"As she spoke, grief filled her eyes with tears, and jealousy
possessed her breast; but Hope, who loves to soothe the
sorrows of despairing lovers, took refuge in her mind, and
filled it with bright images of joys to come. It suggested to
her that her rival could not be very formidable, and that Don
Juan was less the captive of her charms than the object of her
favours, and that the ties which bound them could not therefore
be difficult to break. She resolved, however, to judge for herself,
and at once to see the Toledan. With this view she sent word
that she wished to speak with him: he came; and, when they
were alone, she thus addressed him:</p>
<p>"'I could never have believed that love could make a
gallant man forgetful of his duties to a lady; nevertheless, Don
Juan, since it has possessed you, you have become a stranger
to my house. I think I have a right to upbraid you for this
neglect; I am unwilling, however, to believe that you have
yourself resolved to shun me, and will suppose that your
mistress has forbidden your coming here. Tell me, Don Juan,
that it is so, and I will excuse you. I know a lover is not
master of his will, and that he dares not disobey the woman to
whom he has resigned it.'</p>
<p>"'Madam,' replied the Toledan, 'I confess that my conduct
may reasonably surprise you; but, in pity, ask me not to justify
myself: content yourself with hearing from my lips that I shun
you not without good cause.' 'Whatever may be that cause,'
interrupted Donna Theodora, visibly affected, 'I request you
will not conceal it.' 'Well, madam,' replied Don Juan, 'y<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span>ou
shall be obeyed; but be not angry if you learn from me more
than you would wish to know.</p>
<p>"'Don Fabricio,' he continued, 'has doubtless related to
you the adventure which compelled me to quit Castile. In
flying from Toledo, my heart filled with hatred against womankind,
I bade defiance to the sex ever to touch that heart again.
With this disposition, I approached Valencia; I met you, and,
what perhaps none have ever sustained before, I met your eyes
without yielding to their influence. I saw you again and again
with impunity; but, alas! dearly I have paid for my pride of
heart. You have conquered! Your beauty, your mind,—all
your charms were turned against a rebel to your sway; in a
word, I feel for you now all the love that you were formed by
nature to inspire.</p>
<p>"'This, madam, is what has driven me from your sight.
The mistress, to whom they told you I was devoted, exists but
in the imagination of Mendoza; and it was to prevent in him
a suspicion of the truth, which my constant refusals to accompany
him here might have engendered, that I conjured her
into life.'</p>
<p>"This confession, unexpected as it was by Donna Theodora,
could not fail to fill her bosom with delight, nor could she
conceal it from the Toledan. It is true she took no great
pains to do so, and that, instead of regarding him with
indignation for his presumption, her eyes beamed with tenderness
as she said: 'You have revealed to me your secret,
Don Juan; it is fair that I should discover mine to you:
Listen!</p>
<p>"'Regardless of the overtures of Alvaro Ponza, and little
affected by the addresses of Mendoza, I lived in t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>ranquil joy,
when chance brought you to the wood where we met. Agitated
as I was by the scene which then was passing, I was nevertheless
struck by the gentle and respectful manner in which you
offered me your services; and the frankness and courage which
you displayed in separating the two furious rivals for my love
inspired me with the most favourable opinion of your character.
The means by which you proposed to terminate their disputes,
indeed, displeased me, and it was with repugnance that I
resolved to choose between the combatants; but, I believe I
must not disguise from you, that yourself in great part contributed
to increase the difficulty of my decision. At the moment
when, compelled by necessity, my tongue proclaimed the name
of Don Fabricio, I felt that my heart had already declared in
favour of the unknown. From that day, which, after what you
have just avowed, I may call a happy one, your virtues have
constantly augmented the esteem you then inspired.</p>
<p>"'Why should I affect to hide these feelings from you? I
confess them with no greater candour than I told Mendoza
that I loved him not. A woman whose misfortune is to love
a being whom she may not hope to wed, may bury in her heart
the passion which consumes it; but when her bosom's lord is
one who nourishes an equal tenderness for her, silence were
weakness, and dissimulation shame. Yes, I am indeed happy
that your love is mine, and I render thanks to Heaven which
I trust has destined us for each other.'</p>
<p>"Having thus spoken, the lady waited for Don Juan's answer,
and to give him an opportunity of expressing all the gratitude
which she naturally thought the declaration she had made
must inspire; but her lover, instead of appearing enchanted
by the confession he had just listened to, remained sad and
thoughtful.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p>
<p>"'What means this silence?' she at length exclaimed.
'What! when for you, Zarata, I forget my sex's pride; and,
what another would have deemed a fate to envy, show you a
heart all filled with love for you,—can you repel the bliss which
such a heart bestows;—be coldly silent to its fond disclosure,
and look with grief when all things promise joy? Alas! Don
Juan, my kindness for you has a strange effect, indeed.'</p>
<p>"'And what other, madam, can it have upon a heart like
mine?' replied the Toledan, mournfully. 'The greater kindness
you avow for me, the greater is the misery I suffer. You
are not ignorant of all I owe to Don Fabricio; you know the
tender friendship which unites us: can I then build my happiness
upon the ruins of his dearest hopes?' 'You are too
scrupulous,' resumed the Donna Theodora: 'I have promised
to Mendoza nothing. I can bestow my love, nor merit his
reproaches; and you may well accept it, nor yet do him a
wrong. I acknowledge that the sorrows of your friend may
cause you some unhappiness; but, Don Juan, can that o'erbalance
in your mind the destiny which waits you?'</p>
<p>"'Yes, madam,' replied the Toledan, with respectful firmness;
'a friend like Don Fabricio has greater weight with me
than you can well imagine. Could you possibly conceive the
tenderness, the strength of that feeling which binds us to each
other, you would pity me indeed. Mendoza has no secrets
now with me; my interests have become his own; the slightest
matter which concerns myself commands his strict regard: in
a word, madam, I share his soul with you.</p>
<p>"'Ah! if you wished me to profit by your kindness, you
should have disclosed it ere those ties were formed which
bind me now to him. Delighted to have won your affections,
I should then have seen in Don Fabricio b<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span>ut a rival; and my
heart, steeled against the friendship which he offered to me,
would have escaped its bonds; I should then have been free
from all obligation towards him: but, madam, it is now too
late. I have received all the services it was in his power to
render me; I have indulged all the feelings which those
services induced; gratitude and esteem now unite to reduce
me to the cruel necessity of renouncing the inestimable prize
you present for my acceptance.'</p>
<p>"While the Toledan was speaking thus, tears fell fast from
the eyes of Donna Theodora; and, as he concluded, she hid
her face in her handkerchief to conceal her distress. Don
Juan was of course affected; his constancy began to evaporate,
and he felt that his stay was dangerous. 'Adieu, madam,' he
continued, while sighs impeded his utterance,—'adieu! I
must fly to preserve my honour; your tears overcome me—all
else I could withstand. I leave you for ever; and go, far
hence, to deplore the loss of that happiness which my friendship
for Don Fabricio inexorably demands as a sacrifice.' And
as he finished, he hastily retired, with as much resolution as
just enabled him to do so.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 257px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic06.png" width="257" height="369" alt="The Toledan bids farewell to Donna Theodora" />
</div>
<p>"After his departure, the widow of Cifuentes was distracted
by a thousand conflicting emotions. She felt ashamed at
having declared her love to a man whom its bright temptation
had not won; but, unable to doubt his affection for her person,
and assured that his refusal of her hand originated in no other
feeling than an unexampled constancy for his friend, she was
sufficiently reasonable to admire so rare an instance of virtue.
Nevertheless, as it is in the nature of men, and more particularly
in the nature of women, to feel annoyed when all things
do not happen as they wish, she resolved to go into the
country on the morrow, in order to dissipate her grief, or rather
to augment it; for Solitude is nurse to Love, and strengthens<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>
the young passion while he strives to hush its cries.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>
<p>"Meanwhile, Don Juan, not finding Mendoza on his return,
shut himself in his own apartment, and gave way to the
affliction he had restrained during his interview with Donna
Theodora; for, after what he had sacrificed to friendship, he
felt himself at liberty to indulge in grief for its loss. It was
not long, however, before Mendoza came to break on his
retirement, and judging by his friend's appearance that he
was ill, he displayed so much uneasiness that Don Juan was
obliged to plead a want of rest, in order to account for his
altered looks. Mendoza left him to repose; but he went out
with so much grief depicted on his countenance, that the
Toledan was still more afflicted by his sympathy. 'Oh
Heaven!' he exclaimed, 'why is it that the most tender friendship
should bring to me nothing but misfortune?'</p>
<p>"On the following day, Don Fabricio was yet in bed, when
they came to inform him that Donna Theodora had set out,
with all her establishment, for her seat at Villareal, and that it
was unlikely she would shortly return to Valencia. This
information caused him less inquietude on account of his
severance from the object of his devotion, than because a
mystery had been made to him of her departure. Without
being able to determine on its cause, a gloomy presentiment
pervaded his mind as to its effect on his happiness.</p>
<p>"He instantly arose, that he might seek his friend, as much
to converse with him on the subject which occupied his mind,
as to inquire the state of Zarata's health; but, before he had
completed his toilet, Don Juan entered his room, saying: 'I
come to dissipate whatever apprehension you may entertain
for me; I feel myself again restored to health.' 'The good
news you tell me,' replied Mendoza, 'consoles me somewhat
for the unwelcome intelligence I have just received.' 'Ah!
what is that?' asked the Toledan anxiously. 'Why,' replied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>
Don Fabricio, after having dismissed his attendants, 'Donna
Theodora has gone this morning into the country, where they
expect she will remain for some time. This sudden resolution
astonishes me. Why has it been concealed? What think you,
Don Juan? Have I not cause to be alarmed?'</p>
<p>"Zarata took good care not to communicate his real thoughts
upon the subject, but endeavoured to persuade Mendoza that
Donna Theodora might change her residence without giving
him any reason for alarm. Don Fabricio, however, unconvinced
by the arguments of his friend, interrupted him, saying:
'That is all very well, Zarata; but you cannot remove my
fears of having imprudently done or said something which has
displeased the Donna Theodora; and it is to punish my
indiscretion that she leaves me without deigning even to
inform me of my fault.</p>
<p>"'I will not, however, remain in uncertainty. Let us hasten,
Don Juan, to follow her; I will at once order our horses.' 'I
would advise you,' said the Toledan, 'to seek her alone; if it
be as you think, witnesses are worse than needless.' 'Don
Juan cannot be unwelcome,' replied Mendoza; 'Donna
Theodora is aware that you know all that passes in my heart:
she esteems you; and far from being in my way, you will
assist me to appease her anger against me.'</p>
<p>"'No, no, Fabricio,' replied the Toledan, 'my presence will
avail you nothing. Take my advice, and go alone, I conjure
you!' 'Again no, my dear Don Juan,' interrupted Mendoza,
'we will go together; I expect this kindness of your friendship.'
'What tyranny! exclaimed the Toledan, with evident
vexation; 'why ask you of my friendship what that very
feeling should deny you most?'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p>
<p>"These words, which Don Fabricio could not comprehend,
and the tone in which they were uttered, surprised him greatly.
He looked at his friend for some time without speaking. At
last, he said to him gravely: 'Don Juan, what mean you?
What horrible suspicion breaks upon my mind? Ah! it is
too much, to wound me by your terrible constraint! Speak!
Whence arises this unwillingness to accompany me to Donna
Theodora?'</p>
<p>"'I would have concealed it from you,' replied the Toledan,
'but, since you compel me to disclose the truth, I will dissimulate
no longer. Let us, my dear Mendoza, no more
rejoice in the similarity of our dispositions; it is but too
perfect: the shafts which wounded you, have neither spared
your friend. Donna Theodora——' 'What! you my
rival?' interrupted Don Fabricio, turning pale as death.
'From the instant that my love for the widow of Cifuentes
became apparent to myself,' replied Don Juan, 'I strove to
stifle the passion. I have, as you know, sedulously avoided
her sight: I at least triumphed over my feelings, if I could not
destroy them.</p>
<p>"'Yesterday, however, Donna Theodora sent word that she
desired to see me. I went to her; when she asked me why
I seemed to shun her. I endeavoured to excuse myself as
well as I was able; but, as my excuses did not satisfy her, I
was compelled at last to avow the real cause of my absence.
I imagined that, after this declaration, she would have
approved the motives of my apparent neglect; but my unlucky
star had decreed—shall I tell you? yes, Mendoza, it is useless
attempting to deceive you,—I found Theodora disposed to
favour my love.'</p>
<p>"Although Don Fabricio was one of the mildest and most<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>
reasonable of men, yet, at this confession, he was seized with
a fury beyond his control; and, again interrupting his friend,
he exclaimed: 'Hold! Don Juan, plunge at once your dagger
in my breast; but continue not this fatal recital. What! not
contented with avowing your passion for her whom I adore,
must you tell me too that your love is returned? By Heaven!
this is a strange confidence you dare to venture on with me.
You put our friendship to a test indeed. But what say I! our
friendship? You have broken it, in nourishing the traitorous
feelings you have just imparted.</p>
<p>"'Oh! how have I been deceived! I thought you generous
even to excess, and find you basely false; stooping to win the
heart of her whose love were insult to your friend. This is
indeed an unexpected blow; and falls with double weight
since coming from the hand ...' 'Do me more justice,' in his
turn interrupted the Toledan; 'reflect with patience ere you
speak: I am not the traitor which you deem me. Hear me.
You will repent the injuries you heap upon your friend.'</p>
<p>"Don Juan then related all that had passed between the
widow of Cifuentes and himself, the tender confession she had
made to him of love, and all the arguments she used to win
him to indulge his own. He repeated to him then his firm
reply; and, as he spoke of the determination he displayed, the
wrath of Don Fabricio yielded by degrees. 'In short,' added
Don Juan, 'friendship conquered love; and I rejected that of
Donna Theodora, despite her tears. But, Gods, those tears!
what trouble filled my soul at sight of them! I cannot
recollect them now without trembling at the danger I encountered.
I began to feel myself relent; and, for a few moments,
Mendoza, my heart indeed betrayed you. I did not, however,
yield to my weakness, but escaped those dangerous tears by
hasty flight. Still it is not enough to have gone safe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>ly through
the past,—the future must be feared. I shall therefore hasten
my departure from Valencia; I will no more behold the
lovely Theodora. And now, will Don Fabricio accuse his
friend of ingratitude and perfidy?'</p>
<p>"'No!' replied Mendoza, embracing the Toledan; 'my
eyes are opened, and I find him faithful as my heart could
wish. Pardon those unjust reproaches to a jealous lover, who
in a moment finds himself deprived of all his hopes. Alas!
should I have expected that the Donna Theodora could have
long beheld you, and have failed to love?—that she could
resist the influence of those attractions which at once so drew
you to myself? No! and I embrace my friend again. I
attribute my misfortunes but to destiny; and, far from feeling
hatred to yourself, my affection is increased by your noble
conduct. What! can you renounce for me possession of the
lovely Theodora,—can you yield for friendship's sake so great
a prize, and shall I be insensible of the sacrifice? Can you
conquer the passion which consumes you, and shall I make
no endeavour so to vanquish mine? No! I will not be
outdone in generosity of soul. Obey, Don Juan, the dictate
of your heart; espouse the object of our mutual affections;
my heart may groan in secret if it will; be it so! Mendoza
intreats you to consult your own.'</p>
<p>"'In vain do you intreat me,' replied Zarata: 'I love her
but too dearly, as I have told you; but, Mendoza, your happiness
shall never be the price of mine.' 'And the happiness
of Donna Theodora,' said Don Fabricio, 'shall that then
count for nothing? Let not false delicacy weigh with us
now: her passion for yourself has ended all my hopes. What
though, for me, you shunned those fatal eyes, to lead in
distant lands a life of woe,—what would it serve me <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>now?
She loves me not, and never will; Heaven reserved that bliss
for you alone. From the moment that she saw you, her
heart declared for you; nature prompted the emotion: in a
word, you alone can render her happy. Receive then the
heart she offers with her hand; crown her desires and your
own; leave me to my fate; and make not three persons
miserable, when the wretchedness of one alone is all that
destiny requires.'"</p>
<p>Asmodeus was here obliged to suspend his narration, and
listen to the Student, who said to him: "Well, all that you
tell me is sufficiently surprising; but are there really such
amiable people upon earth? I never met within this nether
world but friends who strive, not for such mistresses as you
depict the Donna Theodora, but for the arrantest coquettes.
What! a lover to renounce the being he adores, by whom his
love is shared, and all lest he should render some poor friend
unhappy? That may do well for some romancer's pen, which
fain would picture men the creatures they should be, for fear
of telling them the things they are." "I own, with you,"
Asmodeus replied, "the virtue that I tell you of is rare; but
still, my dear Cleophas, it exists; not in romances only, but
in the principles of man's own nature. It is true that, since
the deluge, I have seen but two examples of the like, and this
is one; but, let us return to our history.</p>
<p>"The two friends continued still their amicable strife, and,
as each was still unwilling to yield the palm of generosity to
the other, their amorous sentiments remained suspended,
during several days. They ceased to talk of Donna Theodora,
each seemed afraid to breathe her very name; but,
while Friendship triumphed over Love in the city of Valencia,
Love, as though he would revenge the insult offered to his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>
power, reigned with tyranny without its walls, and was there
obeyed without scruple.</p>
<p>"Donna Theodora was all this time in the solitude of Villareal,
which was not far distant from the sea. There, abandoning
herself to her passion for Don Juan, she dreamt of
its reward; and nuptial visions floated in her mind, despite
the friendship the Toledan had recently displayed for Don
Fabricio, his too much loved rival.</p>
<p>"One day, while the glorious splendour of the setting sun
chained her to the margin of its bed, she perceived a boat
which made towards the shore. As it approached, she saw
that it contained seven or eight men, whose aspect was far
from prepossessing; and as they came still nearer, she observed
that their faces were covered with masks, and that they were
armed.</p>
<p>"Trembling with fear, for it was not easy to divine any good
object for this unlooked-for descent, she turned hastily towards
her home. Looking from time to time behind her as she
fled, she saw them land; and, as they instantly appeared to be
endeavouring to overtake her, she began to run with all her
might. But as she was not as swift of foot as Atalanta, and
as the masks were light and fleet, they came up with her, just
as she had reached the entrance of her grounds, and seized
her.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 254px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic07.png" width="254" height="253" alt="Donna Theodora carried off by the masked men" />
</div>
<p>"The shrieks of the Donna Theodora, and a girl who accompanied
her, were loud enough however to attract the attention
of some servants without the house; and these giving the
alarm to those within, the whole establishment, to a man,
turned out armed with clubs and pitchforks. But in the
meantime, two of the most robust among the masqueraders
had taken the lady and her damsel in their arms, and b<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span>ore
them towards the boat, while the remainder remained to give
battle to the domestics, who, albeit not paid for fighting, did
their utmost. The combat was long, but swords carried the
day against pitchforks, and the gentlemen in dominoes were
fast regaining the vessel to join their prize. It was time
indeed they did so; for ere their embarkation was completed,
four or five cavaliers were to be distinguished on the road
from Valencia, riding at their topmost speed, and apparen<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span>tly
anxious to be in time for the rescue of the Donna Theodora.
The ravishers saw them; and made such good haste to get
out to sea, that the cavaliers arrived too late to attain the
accomplishment of their object.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 248px;">
<img src="images/ch13pic08.png" width="248" height="127" alt="The masked men rowing away" />
</div>
<p>"These cavaliers were Don Fabricio and Don Juan. Mendoza
had received a letter, only a few hours before, informing
him, on good authority, that Don Alvaro was in the island of
Majorca; that he had equipped a sort of sloop, and that with
some twenty scoundrels who had nothing to lose, he intended
to carry off the widow of Cifuentes on the first occasion of
her visiting her seat at Villareal. On this, the Toledan and
himself, with their personal attendants, had set out
immediately from Valencia, in order to inform Donna Theodora of
the projected attempt. They had, unfortunately, arrived just
in time to discern on the sea-shore a number of persons who
appeared to be engaged in mortal strife; and, suspecting that
it might be as they feared, had hastened with all ex<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span>pedition
to oppose the infamous design of Don Alvaro. But, with all
their haste, they arrived but to witness the abduction they had
especially come to prevent.</p>
<p>"In the meanwhile, Alvaro Ponza, joyful at his success, was
hurrying from the coast with his prey, and was observed to
join a small armed vessel which was awaiting him in the
distance. Words cannot convey an idea of the grief of the
two friends; the air rang with imprecations against Don
Alvaro: their grief and rage, however, were alike unavailing.
The domestics of the Donna Theodora, excited by so laudable
an example, were not sparing of their lamentations; the shore
resounded with cries: fury, desolation, and despair reigned
where all before had been tranquil joy, or the sweet grief of
love. The rape of the beauteous Helen herself did not excite
at the court of Sparta an equal consternation."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 214px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecemanrock.png" width="214" height="224" alt="tailpiece of a man in a rocky landscape" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XIV.</h5>
<h4>THE SQUABBLE BETWEEN THE TRAGIC POET AND THE COMIC AUTHOR.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiall.png" width="75" height="76" alt="L" />
</div>
<p>Leandro Perez, at this point of the narrative,
could not help again interrupting the Devil:
"Signor Asmodeus," said he, "I really cannot
control my curiosity to know the meaning of
something which attracts my attention, in spite of the pleasure
I receive in listening to you. I see, in a room near us,
two men fighting in their shirts, and several others in their
dressing-gowns who are hastening to part them: tell me, I
pray you, what it is all about." The Demon, ever ready to
please the Student, without further pressing replied as follows:</p>
<p>"The persons whom you behold in their shirts, or so much
of them as is left in the struggle, are two French authors; and
the mediators in the strife are two Germans, a Fleming, and
an Italian. They all lodge in that same house, which is a sort
of lodging-house devoted exclusively to foreigners. One of
these authors writes tragedies, and the other comedies. The
former, disgusted for some reason or other with his own
country, has come to Spain; and the latter also, discontented
with his prospects in Paris, has performed the same journey, in
the hope of finding in Madrid a better fortune.</p>
<p>"The tragic poet is vain and presumptuous, having obtai<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>ned,
despite the opinions of those whose breath should be fame, a
tolerable reputation in his own country. To keep his Pegasus
in wind, he rides it daily; and not being able to sleep this
night, he commenced a piece, the subject of which is taken
from the Iliad. He has finished one scene; and as his smallest
fault is that, so common to his brethren, of cramming into
other people's throats the trash which he has ejected, he rose
from his table, where he was writing in his shirt, took a candle,
and, as he was, went to rouse the comic author, who, making a
better use of his time, was sleeping profoundly.</p>
<p>"The latter, awakened by the noise made at his door, went
to open it to the other, who, with the air of one possessed,
entered the room exclaiming: 'Down on your knees, my friend;
down, and worship a genius whom Melpomene inspires. I
have given birth to poetry—: but, what do I say?—I have
done it! Apollo himself dictated the verses to me. Were I
at Paris, I should go from house to house to read the precious
lines; I only wait for day that I may charm with them our
talented ambassador, and every other Frenchman who has the
luck to be within Madrid; but, before I shew them to a soul,
I come to recite them to you.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 189px;">
<img src="images/ch14pic01.png" width="189" height="327" alt="The tragic poet at the comic author's door" />
</div>
<p>"'I am much obliged by the preference,' replied the comic
author, yawning with all his might; 'it is rather unlucky
though, that you did not choose a better time. I went to bed
extremely late,—can hardly keep my eyes unclosed,—and I
will not answer for hearing all the verses you have to read to
me, without tumbling to sleep again.' 'Oh! I will answer for
that myself,' interrupted the tragic poet. 'Were you dead, the
scene that I have just composed would recall you to life again.
In my writings, there are none of your namby-pamby sentiments,—none
of your common-place expressions, sustained
alone by rhyme: masculine thoughts, and easy versification,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>
move the heart and strike upon the mind. I am none of those
wretched poetasters, whose pitiable creations glide upon the
stage like shadows, and like them depart;—which go to Utica
to amuse the Africans. My compositions, wor<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>thy to be consecrated
with my statue in the library of Apollo Palatinus, draw
crowds after thirty representations. But come,' added this
modest poet, 'you shall hear the verses of which I wish to
offer you the first incense.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 240px;">
<img src="images/ch14pic02.png" width="240" height="188" alt="Phoenix assists Achilles's captives" />
</div>
<p>"'This is my tragedy, <span class="smcap">The Death of Patroclus</span>. Scene
the first, Brisëis and the other captives of Achilles appear.
They tear their hair and beat their breasts, to express the grief
with which they are filled by the death of Patroclus. Unable
even to support themselves, utterly prostrated by despair, they
fall upon the stage. This, you will say, is a little daring; but
that is exactly what I aim at. Let the small fry who swim in
the waters of Helicon keep within the narrow bounds of imitation,
without daring to o'erleap them; it is well, there is
prudence in their timidity: but for me, I love invention; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>
I hold that, to move and overcome your spectators, you must
present to their minds images which they could never have
expected.</p>
<p>"'The captives, then, are lying on the earth. Phoenix,
governor of Achilles, is with them. He assists them to rise,
one after another; and, having placed them on their feet, he
commences the argument of the drama in these lines:—</p>
<p class="p2" style="margin-left: 10%;">
Hector shall fall; and Troy itself be spread<br />
In ruins, to avenge Patroclus dead.<br />
Proud Agamemnon, Camelus the grave,<br />
Nestor the wise, and Eumelus the brave,<br />
Leontes, skilled to hurl the spear along,<br />
Smooth-tongued Ulysses, Diomed the strong,<br />
Arm with Achilles. Lo! that hero drives<br />
Tow'rds Ilium's gates—appalling Ilium's wives—<br />
His steeds immortal, urged across the plain<br />
So swift, the eye toils after them with pain.<br />
But still he cries: Dear Xanthus, Balius, fly!<br />
And when around ten thousand corses lie,<br />
When pallid Trojans scamper off like fillies,<br />
Regain your camp, but not without Achilles.<br />
Xanthus replies, bowing his head: You may<br />
Be sure, Achilles, we'll your will obey;<br />
But, while our pace with your impatience strives,<br />
Know that to you the fatal hour arrives—<br />
The ox-eyed Juno thus the steed enlightening,—<br />
And now the car moves with a speed quite frightening.<br />
The Greeks, beholding, utter cries of joy,<br />
So loud, they shake the very walls of Troy.<br />
Achilles, armed by Vulcan for the war,<br />
Appears more brilliant than the morning star;<br />
Or like the sun, when, in its bright career,<br />
It bursts on earth, dispelling night and fear;<br />
Or brilliant as the fires on mountains lighted,<br />
To guide poor swains, bewilder'd or benighted.<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a><br />
</p>
<div class="footnote">
<p class="p2">
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span>
<a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a>
</p>
<p class="p2">
Priam va perdre Hector et sa superbe ville;<br />
Les Grecs veulent venger le compagnon d'Achille,<br />
Le fier Agamemnon, le divin Camélus,<br />
Nestor, pareil aux dieux, le vaillant Eumélus,<br />
Léonte, de la pique adroit à l'exercice,<br />
Le nerveux Diomède, et l'éloquent Ulysse.<br />
Achille s'y prépare, et déjà ce héros<br />
Pousse vers Ilium ses immortels chevaux;<br />
Pour arriver plus tôt où sa fureur l'entraîne,<br />
Quoique l'oeil qui les voit ne les suive qu'à peine,<br />
Il leur dit: Chers Xanthus, Balius, avancez;<br />
Et lorsque vous serez du carnage lassés,<br />
Quand les Troyens fuyant rentreront dans leur ville,<br />
Regagnez notre camp, mais non pas sans Achille.<br />
Xanthus baisse la tête, et répond par ces mots:<br />
Achille, vous serez content de vos chevaux,<br />
Ils vont aller au gré de votre impatience;<br />
Mais de votre trépas l'instant fatal s'avance.<br />
Junon aux yeux de boeuf ainsi le fait parler,<br />
Et d'Achille aussitôt le char semble voler.<br />
Les Grecs, en le voynt, de mille cris de joie<br />
Soudain font retentir le rivage de Troie.<br />
Ce prince, revêtu des armes de Vulcain,<br />
Paraît plus éclatant que l'astre du matin,<br />
Ou tel que le soleil, commençant sa carrière,<br />
S'élève pour donner au monde la lumière;<br />
Ou brillant comme un feu que les villageois font<br />
Pendant l'obscure nuit sur le sommet du mont.<br />
</p></div>
<p class="p2">
"'I stop,' continued the tragic poet, 'to let you breathe a
moment; for if I were to recite to you the whole of my scene
at once, the beauty of my versification, and the great number
of brilliant passages and sublime ideas that it contains, would
smother you to a certainty. But remark the aptness of this
comparison,—</p>
<p style="margin-left: 10%;">
Or brilliant as the fires on mountains lighted,<br />
To guide poor swains bewilder'd or benighted.<br />
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>
</p>
<p>"'It is not all the world who could appreciate that; but
you, who have mind, and a clearness of perception,—you must
be enchanted with it.' 'I am so, doubtless,' replied the comic
author, smiling contemptuously; 'nothing can be more beautiful;
and I am persuaded you will not fail to describe, in your
tragedy, the care taken by Thetis to drive away the Trojan
flies which approach the body of Patroclus.' 'You may spare
your jests as to that,' replied the tragic poet;—'an author who
has talent may venture everything. The very incident you
mention is perhaps the one most capable of being rendered
into heroic verse; and I shall not lose the opportunity, you
may depend upon it.</p>
<p>"'All my works,' he continued complacently, 'bear the
impress of genius; so that when I read them it would delight
you to witness the applause they elicit: I am compelled to
stop after every verse, to receive its laudatory tribute. I
remember that one day, at Paris, I was reading a tragedy in
the house of a wealthy patron of literature, in which all the
wits of the capital generally assemble about dinner-time, and
in which I may say, without vanity, that I do not pass for a
Pradon. The dowager countess of Vieille-Brune was there, a
lady of exquisite taste—I am her favourite poet. Well, at the
first scene, the hot tears ran down her cheeks; during the
reading of my second act, she was obliged to change her
handkerchief; her sobs were beyond her control in the third;
at the end of the fourth she was nearly in hysterics; and I
expected, at the catastrophe, that she would have absolutely
died with the hero of my piece.'</p>
<p>"At these words, although the comic author endeavoured
strenuously to preserve his gravity, a burst of laughter es<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>caped
him. 'Ah!' he exclaimed, 'how well do I recognize her
ladyship by your description! The good countess is one who
cannot endure comedy: so strong is her aversion for the merry
muse, that she hurries from her box after the dagger or the
bowl has done its work, that she may not lose an atom of her
mimic grief. Tragedy is her pet passion; and be it good or
bad, so long as it presents unhappy love, so surely may you bid
her tears to flow. Honestly, did I pretend to the heroics, I
should wish for other admirers than the countess.'</p>
<p>"'Oh! as to that, I have others too,' replied the tragic
poet. 'I am the approved of thousands, male and female, of
the highest rank——' 'I should also mistrust the suffrages of
the quality,' interrupted the comic author; 'I should have no
great confidence in their judgment: I will tell you why.
Auditors of this description are, for the most part, too much
occupied with themselves to pay great attention to the reading
of a poem; or are caught for the moment by high-sounding
verse, or the feeble delicacy of some sickly sentiment. Either
is sufficient to induce their praise of an author's labours, whatever
else of better they may lack. On the contrary, let but a
line rustle their gentle ears too harshly, and it is enough that
they exclaim against the piece, however good.'</p>
<p>"'Well!' resumed the lachrymose inditer, 'since you would
have me suspicious of this tribunal, I rely on the applauses of
the pit.' 'Bah! talk not to me of your pit,' replied the other;
'its judgment is guided by caprice. Stupidly won by the
novelty of a first representation, it will be for months
enraptured by a wretched piece. It is true that in the end it discovers
its folly; and, then, it never forgives an author for
having received from it an undeserved renown, or cheated it
into mercy.'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p>
<p>"'That is a misfortune for which I have nothing to fear,'
said the tragic poet; 'my pieces are reprinted as often as
they are played. This, now, never occurs with comedies;
printing exhibits their feebleness. Comedies being but trifles,—the
lighter productions of mind....' 'Softly! my
tragic friend; softly!' interrupted the other: 'you are getting
somewhat warm. Speak, I beg of you, of comedy with
less irreverence to me. Do you think, now, a comic piece
less difficult to write than tragedy? Undeceive yourself!
It is far less easy to make good men laugh, than it is to
make them weep. Learn that a subject drawn from ordinary
life requires talent of as high an order as do the stilted heroes
of antiquity.'</p>
<p>"'I'faith,' cried the tragic poet with an air of raillery, 'I am
delighted to hear you so express yourself.' 'Well! monsieur
Calidas, to avoid disputation, I agree henceforth to as greatly
admire your productions as I have heretofore despised them.'
'I care little for your contempt, monsieur Giblet,' hastily replied
the comic author; 'and in return for your insolence, I
will plainly tell you my opinion of the rubbish you have just
been inflicting on me: your verse is a mixture of bombast and
absurdity, and the ideas, although borrowed from Homer, have, in
passing through your brain, become tinctured with its vulgarity.
Achilles talks to his horses, and his horses reply to him; what
nonsense! It is a pity they were not asses, for then you could
have put into their mouths with propriety your splendid comparison
of the village bonfire on the top of a mountain. It is
doing no honour to the ancients to pillage them after this
fashion: their works are undoubtedly filled with beauties; but it
requires greater taste than you possess to make of them a fitting
use, or to enable you to borrow from them to advantage.'</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p>
<p>"'Since you have not sufficient elevation of soul,' retorted
Giblet, 'to appreciate the merits of my poetry, and to punish
you for having dared to criticise my scene, I will not read to
you the remainder.' 'What, I wonder, have I done, that I
should have been punished by being compelled to listen to the
beginning?' replied Calidas. 'It well becomes you indeed to
despise my comedies! Learn that the very worst that I could
write will be clever compared with anything that you can compose,
and that it is much easier to inflate the cheeks with hollow
sentiments and sounding words, than it is to enlighten the
mind by pointed wit or a delicate irony.'</p>
<p>"'Thank Heaven!' exclaimed the tragic poet, with an awful
expression of disdain, 'if in its rigour it denies me your esteem,
I may easily console myself for my misfortune. The court, however,
thinks more favourably of my tragedies; and the pension
with which in its grace it has been pleased——' 'Pshaw! think
not to dazzle me with your pensions,' interrupted Calidas; 'I
know too well how they may be obtained to esteem your works
the more for that. And to prove to you your folly, in thinking
more highly of yourself than of comic authors, and that it is
easier to compose serious dramas than comic pieces, I am resolved
if I return to France, and do not succeed in my own
line, that I will descend to making tragedies.'</p>
<p>"'For a scribbler of farces,' said the tragic poet, 'you are
not over modest.' 'For a versifier who only owes his reputation
to borrowed plumes,' replied the comic author, 'you
would fain have one think rather too highly of you.' 'You
are an insolent scoundrel,' exclaimed the sombre genius. 'If
I were not in your room, little monsieur Calidas, the catastrophe
of this adventure should teach you to respect the buskin.'
'Let not that consideration restrain you, I entreat,
lanky monsieur Giblet,' replied Calidas; 'if you wish to <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>receive
a thrashing, I would as soon give it you in my own room
as elsewhere.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 237px;">
<img src="images/ch14pic03.png" width="237" height="211" alt="Calidas and Giblet come to blows" />
</div>
<p>"Immediately, they seized each other by the throat and hair;
and kicks and cuffs were exchanged with generous ardour. An
Italian, who lay in a neighbouring chamber, having listened to
the overture of this drama, and hearing the noise of the
incidental combat, judged that it was quite time for the spectators
to assemble when the play had begun. He rose, therefore, and
out of compassion for the French authors, although Italian, he
filled the house with his cries. On this the Fleming and the
two Germans hastened with himself in their dressing-gown<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>s to
the theatre of strife, and the piece is, as you see, just terminating
by the separation of the combatants."</p>
<p>"This squabble is amusing enough," said Don Cleophas.
"But, it would appear from what you tell me that tragic
writers in France imagine themselves to be much more important
personages than those who devote themselves to
comedy." "Certainly!" replied Asmodeus. "The former
think themselves as much exalted over the latter, as are the
stately heroes of tragedies above the intriguing servants of
comic pieces." "Indeed! and on what do they found this
opinion of themselves?" inquired the Student. "Is it then
really so much more difficult to write the one than the other?"
"The question you put to me," replied the Devil, "is one
which has been a hundred times debated, and is so to this
day. For myself, this is my decision, with all deference to
those who differ from me in opinion. I say that it is not
more easy to compose a comic than a tragic piece; for if it
were so, we must conclude that a tragic poet would be more
capable of writing a comedy, than the best comic author;
the which is not borne out by experience. According to
me, then, each of these two descriptions of poem requires a
genius of a different character, but of an equal capability.</p>
<p>"It is time, however, to end this digression. I will therefore
resume the thread of the history, which you so unceremoniously
interrupted."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 200px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecestrapwork.png" width="200" height="97" alt="foliate strapwork tailpiece" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XV.</h5>
<h4>CONTINUATION, AND CONCLUSION, OF THE FORCE OF FRIENDSHIP.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitials.png" width="75" height="72" alt="S" />
</div>
<p>Success had not attended the endeavours of the
servants of Donna Theodora to prevent her being
carried away; but they had at least opposed it with
courage, and their resistance had been fatal to
some of the companions of Alvaro Ponza. Among others,
whose wounds had not permitted them to follow their comrades,
there was a man, stretched almost lifeless on the
sand, whom they recognized as one of Alvaro's own attendants.
Perceiving that he still breathed, they carried him to
the house, and spared no pains to restore him to his senses.
In this they at last succeeded, although the quantity of blood
which had escaped from his numerous wounds had reduced
his stream of life to its lowest ebb, and left him extremely
weak. To induce him to speak, they promised to take every
care to prolong his days, and not to deliver him into the
hands of justice, provided that he would inform them of the
place to which his master had designed to take the Donna
Theodora.</p>
<p>Gratified by these assurances, although the state to which he
was reduced left him but small hope to profit by their realization,
he rallied all his remaining strength, and, with a faltering
voice, co<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>nfirmed by his confession the information that Don
Fabricio had received. He added, however, that Don Alvaro
designed to conduct the widow of Cifuentes to Sassari, in the
island of Sardinia, where he had a relation whose protection
and power promised him a safe asylum.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 270px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic01.png" width="270" height="173" alt="Alvaro's attendant is carried away" />
</div>
<p>The deposition of the dying man, for he expired a few hours
afterwards, raised Mendoza and the Toledan from complete
despair; and as their stay at Donna Theodora's seat was now
useless, they at once returned to Valencia. After debating for
some time on the steps most expedient to be taken, they
resolved to seek their common enemy in his chosen retreat,
and in a few days embarked, without attendants, at Denia,
for Port Mahon, not doubting that they would there find some
means of transport to the island of Sardinia. It so happened
that scarcely had they reached their destined port, when they
learned that a vessel freighted for Cagliari was about to sail,
and in it they immediately secured a passage.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span></p>
<p>The vessel left the island of Minorca with breezes friendly
to their hopes; but five or six hours after their departure there
came on a calm, and night brought with it winds directly in
their teeth; so that they were obliged to tack about and wait
for a favourable change. Three days were thus passed in
sailing without progress; when, on the fourth, about two hours
after noon, they discovered a strange sail, all its canvas spread,
and bearing down directly upon them. At first they took it
for a merchantman, bound for the shores they steered from;
but observing that it came within the range of cannon-shot
without showing its colours, they began to fear it was a
corsair.</p>
<p>They were not deceived: it was a Tunisian pirate, which
approached them in full expectation that the Christians would
yield without a blow. As it came near enough, however, for
the corsairs to discern what was passing on board of their
expected prey, and to observe that the sails were reefed and
the guns run out, they guessed that the affair was likely to turn
out more seriously than they had expected. They therefore
shortened sail, wore round, hurriedly cleared the deck, and
prepared for action.</p>
<p>A brisk exchange of shots soon commenced, and the
Christians, taking advantage of the surprise which their unexpected
resistance had occasioned, began to prevail over their
opponent; but an Algerine pirate, larger and of heavier metal
than either of the others, arriving in the middle of the action,
took part with its brother of Tunis, and the Christians were
thus placed between two fires.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 183px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic02.png" width="183" height="197" alt="The slave on the bow of the Algerine pirate ship" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p>
<p>Discouraged by this unlooked-for circumstance, and feeling
that it was useless to continue the unequal strife, they gradually
slackened their fire, and at last it ceased altogether. On this
a slave appeared on the bow of the Algerine vessel, who hailed
them in their own language, bidding them, if they hoped for
mercy, to strike to Algiers. A Turk then advanced, holding
in his hand a green silk flag studded with silver crescents interlacing
each other, which he waved in the air. The Christians,
looking upon further resistance as hopeless, gave themselves
up to all the grief that the idea of slavery inspires in the breasts
of freemen, until the master of the vessel, fearing that a further
delay of submission would only serve to irritate their barbarian
conqueror, hauled down his colours, threw himself into a boat
with some of his sailors, and went to surrender to the Algerine
corsair.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic03.png" width="268" height="255" alt="Surrender" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span></p>
<p>The latter immediately sent a portion of his crew on board
the Spanish vessel to examine, or rather to pillage it of all that
it contained. The Tunisian pirate gave similar orders to some
of his men, so that all the passengers it contained were in an
instant disarmed and plundered, and were shortly afterwards
exchanged into the Algerine vessel, when the two pirates divided
their prisoners by lot.</p>
<p>It would have been at least some consolation for Mendoza
and his friend to have both fallen into the hands of the same
corsair; they would have found their chains somewhat the less
heavy to have borne the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>m together; but Fortune, apparently
disposed to make them feel the terrors of her caprice, allotted
Don Fabricio to the pirate of Tunis, and Don Juan to his
competitor of Algiers. Picture to yourself the grief of the two
friends, when told that they must part. They threw themselves
at the feet of the corsairs, and entreated them that they might
not be separated. But their entreaties were vain; the barbarians
before whom they knelt were too much accustomed to
the sight of human misery not to be proof against the prayers
of their present victims. On the contrary, judging by their
demeanour that the two captives were men of wealth and
station, and that they would consequently pay a weighty
ransom, they were the more resolved to divide them.</p>
<p>Mendoza and Zarata, perceiving that they were in the power
of men with hearts insensible to all but gain, turned towards
each other, their looks expressing the depth of their affliction.
But when the booty had been shared, and the Tunisian pirate
prepared to return to his own vessel with his proportion, and
the slaves which it included, they seemed as though they would
expire with despair. Mendoza rushed into the arms of the
Toledan, and embracing him, exclaimed: "Must we then
separate? Cruel necessity! Is it not enough that we should
be borne to slavery, and unavenged? Must we even be
denied to bear in union the sorrows to which we are destined?
Ah! Don Juan, what have we done that Heaven should thus
visit us with its terrible wrath?" "Seek not elsewhere the
cause of our disgrace," replied Don Juan: "I only am to
blame. The death of two unfortunates, immolated to my
revenge, although excused to mortal eyes, is deep offence to
Heaven; and you, my friend, are punished for the fault of
loving one who took upon himself the vengeance that belongs
to God alone."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 271px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic04.png" width="271" height="338" alt="Mendoza and Zarata are separated" />
</div>
<p>While they spoke thus, tears, strangers to the eyes of men,
streamed down their cheeks, and sighs but choked their utterance.
So touching was their grief, that those who shared their
fate were yet as much affected by the sight as w<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>ith their own
misfortune. Not so the wretches who formed the crew of the
Tunisian corsair. Perceiving that Mendoza was the last to
quit the Algerine vessel, they tore him without ceremony from
the arms of the Toledan; and, as they dragged him away, added
blows to insult. "Adieu, dear friend," he cried: "adieu for
ever! Donna Theodora is yet unavenged! and, parted from
you, the miseries that these wretches prepare will be the least
that slavery can bring to me."</p>
<p>Don Juan was unable to reply to the exclamations of his
friend; the treatment that he saw him endure filled his breast
with a horror which deprived him of speech. And so, Signor
Don Cleophas, as the course of my narrative requires that
we should follow the Toledan, we will leave Don Fabricio,
in solemn silence, to be conducted on board of the Tunisian
pirate.</p>
<p>The Algerine returned toward his port, where, having arrived,
he conducted his slaves to the house of the superintending
basha, and thence to the public market. An officer of the
Dey, Mezzomorto, purchased Don Juan for his master; and
the new slave was at once employed as an assistant in the
gardens of the harem. This occupation, although laborious
for a gentleman, was however, the less disagreeable to Don
Juan, on account of the solitude to which it left him; for,
situated as he was, it was a pleasure to have at least the liberty
of indulging his own melancholy thoughts. Incessantly occupied
with his misfortunes, his mind, far from endeavouring to
lighten them with hope, seemed to delight in dwelling on the
past, and to inspire his bosom with gloomiest presages for the
future.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 263px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic05.png" width="263" height="279" alt="Mezzomorto approaches Zarata in the garden" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span></p>
<p>One day he was occupied with his work, murmuring the
while one of his now usual songs of sorrow, when the Dey,
who was walking in the garden, came upon him without being
perceived, and stopped to listen. Pleased with his voice, and
moved by curiosity, he approached the captive and asked his
name. The Toledan replied, that he was called Alvaro; for,
following the usual custom with slaves, of concealing their
station, he thought fit to change his name, and, as the outrage
upon Donna Theodora was ever uppermost in his thoughts,
the name of the detested Alvaro had come soonest to his lip<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>s
when suddenly asked his own. Mezzomorto, who spoke the
Spanish language tolerably well, then questioned him as to the
customs of Spain, and particularly as to the conduct observed
by those of its cavaliers who would render themselves agreeable
to their ladies;—to all of which Don Juan replied in such a
manner as to greatly please the Dey.</p>
<p>"Alvaro," said he to him at last, "you appear to be intelligent;
and I judge you to have been a man of rank in your
own country: but, however that may be, you are fortunate
enough to please me, and I will honour you with my confidence."
At these words, Don Juan prostrated himself before
the Dey, and with well-affected humility, kissed the hem of
his master's robe, and after touching with it his eyes and forehead,
arose, and stood before him in silence.</p>
<p>"To begin by giving you proof of my regard," resumed the
Dey, "you know, that in my seraglio, I have some of the
fairest women which Europe can offer for my pleasures.
Among these, however, there is one whose beauty is beyond
compare; nor do I believe that the Grand Signor himself
possesses so exquisite a creature, although for him the winds
of heaven daily waft ships with their lovely burden from all
quarters of the globe. In her visage the dazzling sun seems
reflected, and her form is graceful as the rose's stem which
grows in the gardens of Eram. My soul is enchanted with her
perfections.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic06.png" width="266" height="310" alt="The unhappy beauty of the seraglio" />
</div>
<p>"Alas! this miracle of nature, all beauteous as she is,
maintains and nourishes the deepest grief; which neither time
nor all the efforts of my love can dissipate. Although fortune
has yielded her to my will, I have ever respected her grief,
and controlled my desires; and unlike those who, placed as I
am, seek but the momentary gratifications of sense, I f<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span>ain
would win her heart, and have striven to gain it by respectful
attentions, such as the vilest Mussulman that lives would feel
degraded to offer to the fairest Christian slave.</p>
<p>"Still, all my cares seem but to add to her affliction; an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>d I
will not disguise that its obstinacy begins to weary me. The
sense of slavery is not imprinted in the minds of others of my
slaves in characters so deep, but that a look of favour from
myself can soon efface or gild them; so that I may well tire
of this incessant grief. Nevertheless, before I abandon myself
to the passion which transports me, I would make one last
endeavour to touch her insensible heart; and I will leave this
task to you. As my fair slave is Christian, and even of your
own country, she may confide in you, and you may persuade
her to my wishes better than another. Go, then! tell her of
my riches and my power; tell her that among my many
slaves, I care for only her; and, if it must be so, bid her even
hope that she may one day be the honoured wife of Mezzomorto.
Tell her that I would rather win her love, than
receive the hand of a Sultana from the grace of his Highness
the Sultan himself."</p>
<p>Don Juan threw himself a second time before the Dey; and
although not over-delighted with this commission, assured him
that he would do his utmost to execute it to his satisfaction.
"Enough!" replied Mezzomorto, "leave your work and follow
me. I am about, contrary to our usages, to permit you
privately to see this slave. But, tremble, if you dare abuse
the confidence I place in you! Tortures, such as even were
never yet inflicted by the Turks, shall punish your temerity.
Strive to overcome your own sorrows, and dream of liberty as
the reward of ending the sufferings that I endure." Don Juan
threw down his hoe, and silently followed the Dey, who, when
they entered the palace, left him, that he might prepare the
afflicted captive to receive his messenger of love.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 258px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic07.png" width="258" height="231" alt="The unhappy beauty salutes Mezzomorto" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span></p>
<p>She was with two aged slaves, who retired as soon as
Mezzomorto appeared. The beauteous slave herself saluted
the Dey with great respect, but she could not behold him
without greater fear, as indeed had ever been the case when
he presented himself before her. He perceived it, and to
reassure her mind: "Amiable captive," he said, "I come but
to inform you that among my slaves there is a Spaniard with
whom you would perhaps be glad to converse. If you wish to
see him, I will give him permission to speak with you, and
even alone."</p>
<p>As the lovely slave expressed no objection to receive her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>
countryman: "I go," resumed the Dey, "to send him to you:
may he, by the information he conveys, serve to relieve you
of your troubles!" He left her as he spoke; and as he went
out, meeting the Toledan, said to him in a low voice: "Enter!
and when you have communicated what I desire, come to my
cabinet and inform me of the result."</p>
<p>Zarata entered as he was directed, closed the door, and
bowed before the favoured slave, who returned his salute,
without either particularly observing the other. When, however,
their eyes at last met, a cry of surprise and joy escaped
them both: "Oh Heaven!" exclaimed the Toledan, approaching
the captive, "is it not a vision that deceives mine eyes?
Can it be the Donna Theodora whom I see?" "Ah! Don
Juan," ere he had uttered these words, cried the lady he
addressed, "is it indeed yourself who speaks to me?" "Yes,
madam," replied the Toledan, while he fell upon his knee and
tenderly kissed her hand, "it is Don Juan. Let these tears,
that my eyes, rejoiced to behold you again, cannot restrain;
let this transport, that you alone can excite in the heart of
him who kneels before you, witness for my presence! I
murmur no longer against my destiny, since it conducts me to
you—Alas! what does my ecstacy inspire? I forget that you
are in chains. By what unhappy chance do I find you here?
How have you escaped from the frantic passion of Alvaro?
Ah, what horror fills my soul to mention his very name! How
do I tremble to learn the fate for which Heaven reserved you,
when it abandoned you to his perfidy!"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 211px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic08.png" width="211" height="219" alt="Don Juan kisses Donna Theodora's hand" />
</div>
<p>"Heaven," replied the Donna Theodora, "has avenged me
on Alvaro Ponza. Had I but time to rel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>ate to you——"
"Time!" interrupted Don Juan,—"you have plenty, and to
spare. The Dey himself permitted me to see you, and, what
may well surprise you, alone. Profit by the happy moments
which his confidence affords, and inform me of all that has
happened to you since you were carried off by Alvaro." "And
who, then, told you that it was by him I was taken away?"
inquired Donna Theodora. "Alas! madam, I know it but
too well," replied the Toledan. He then shortly narrated the
manner in which he had become acquainted with Alvaro's
design, and had witnessed its execution; how Mendoza and
himself had followed him in the hope of preserving her from
his violence, or to revenge it; and of their unfortunate, but
for this meeting, encounter with the pirates, and its consequence.</p>
<p>As soon as he had finished this recital, Donna Theodora<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>
began the story of heir own sufferings, as follows: "I need not
dwell upon my astonishment at finding myself seized by a
masked band of ruffians—indeed, I had hardly time to wonder
at the outrage, for I swooned in the arms of the first who laid
hold of me; and when I recovered my senses, which must
have been after the lapse of some hours, I found myself alone
with Agnes, one of my own attendants, in a cabin on the poop
of a vessel, in the open sea, sailing with all its canvass spread
before the wind.</p>
<p>"The perfidious Agnes, on perceiving my tears, exhorted
me to bear my misfortune with patience; but from a few
words which dropped from her as she spoke, I was not long in
divining that she was in the confidence of Alvaro, who shortly
afterwards appeared. Throwing himself at my feet: 'Madam,'
he exclaimed, 'pardon to a too fond lover the means by which
he has dared to possess himself of your person! You know
how deeply I have loved you, and how ardently I disputed
with Mendoza for your heart, up to the fatal day when you
declared your preference for him. Had my passion been the
cold and empty feeling that mortals dignify with the name of
love, I might have vanquished it as easily as such a feeling is
inspired; but my misfortune was beyond consolation. I live
but to adore those charms; and, despised though I be, I
cannot free myself from their spell. But, madam, let not the
fury of my passion alarm you! I have not deprived you of
liberty, that I may rob you of honour; I seek only that, in the
retreat unto which we are hastening, a sacred tie may unite our
hearts for ever.'</p>
<p>"He continued in this strain for some time, but in terms
which I cannot remember. To hear him, it would have seemed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span>
that, in forcing me to wed him, he did me no wrong; and that
where I saw but an insolent ravisher, I should have beheld
alone an impassioned lover. As, however, while he spoke
thus, I answered him but with tears, and exhibited an evident
despair, he left me; but not without making signs to Agnes,
which I plainly understood as directions for her to second, as
well as she was able, the splendid arguments by which he had
sought to dazzle my weak understanding.</p>
<p>"She did her best; representing to me that, after the éclat
of an abduction, I could not do otherwise than graciously
accept the offered hand of Alvaro Ponza; that, whatever aversion
I might feel for his excessive tenderness, my reputation
demanded of my heart this sacrifice. As, however, the necessity
which she painted, of a hated marriage, was not exactly
the way to dry my tears, I still remained inconsolable; and
Agnes had exhausted all her eloquence, when we suddenly
heard upon the deck a noise which attracted the attention of
us both.</p>
<p>"This noise, which proceeded from Alvaro's people, was
caused by the apparition of a large ship, which was sweeping
with its wings all spread upon us; and from which, as our
vessel was by no means so good a sailer, there was no escaping.
Down it came, and we soon heard cries of 'Lie to, and send a
boat aboard!' But Alvaro Ponza and his men, who knew
what they had to expect from yielding, chose rather to die, or
at least to run the chance of a combat. The action was sharp,
but of short duration: I cannot pretend to give you its details,
and will therefore only say, that Alvaro and every one of his
crew perished, after fighting like men who preferred death to
slavery. For myself and Agnes, we were removed into the
other vessel, which belonged to Mezzomorto, and was commanded
by Aby Aly Osman, one of his officers.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 259px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic09.png" width="259" height="223" alt="Alvaro and his crew are killed" />
</div>
<p>"Aby Aly looked at me for some time, with much surprise;
and recognizing me, by my dress, for a Spaniard, he said to me
in almost pure Castilian: 'Moderate your grief, lady, for having
fallen into slavery: it is a consolation in our woes to know that
they are inevitable. But what do I speak of?—Woe! Happiness
alone awaits you. You are far too lovely for the homage
of Christian dogs. Heaven never made you for the pleasure
of the miserable wretches whom we trample under foot. You
were formed to receive the admiration of the men of the
world; a Mussulman alone is worthy to possess such beauty.
I shall return at once,' he added, 'to Algiers. Albeit I have
made no other prize, I know our Dey too well not to be pe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>rsuaded
that with you I shall not be all unwelcome. I have
no great fear that he will condemn my impatience to place
within his hands a beauty whom our Prophet must have sent
on earth expressly for his enjoyment, and to be the light of
his harem.'</p>
<p>"These compliments, Don Juan, told me too plainly all I
had to fear, and my tears flowed the faster as he spoke. Aby
Aly was pleased, however, to interpret my fears after his own
fashion; and, laughing at my timidity, gave orders to sail
towards Algiers. Never was port so dreaded by the ship-bound
habitant of ocean! Sometimes I threw myself on my
knees, and implored Heaven for its protection; at others, my
doubting spirit wished for the assistance of man in Christian
guise who might come to my rescue, or sink the pirate vessel,
which contained me, in the waves,—or that these in their
mercy would engulph us. Then, again, I hoped that my tears,
and the sorrow which caused them, would render me so unsightly
that the tyrant to whom they bore me might fly my
sight with horror. Vain wishes, that my modesty had formed!
We arrived at the dreaded port; they conducted me to the
palace; I appeared before Mezzomorto.</p>
<p>"I know not what Aby Aly said on presenting me to his
master, nor what the latter replied, for they spoke in their own
tongue; but I thought I could perceive by the looks and
gestures of the Dey that I had the misfortune to please him.
But what, after they had conversed thus for some time, was
addressed to me in my own language, completed my despair
by confirming me in the opinion I had formed.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 201px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic10.png" width="201" height="203" alt="Donna Theodora and Aby Aly before Mezzomorto" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p>
<p>"Vainly I cast myself before him, offering him whatever
sum he chose to name as my ransom; in vain did I tempt his
avarice by the promise of all that I possessed, or could
command: he answered me by saying, that I offered him in my
own person more than all the riches in the world could bestow.
He then conducted me to this apartment, the most splendid
his palace contains, and from that hour to the present moment,
he has spared no pains to dispel the grief with which he sees
me overcome. All his slaves who either dance, sing, or play,
have tried by his command their skill before me. He removed
from me Agnes, because he thought that she served to remind
me of my home, and I am now attended by two aged female
slaves, whose sole discourse is of love and the Dey, and of the
happiness which through his favour I may secure.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p>
<p>"Need I say, Don Juan, that all their efforts to divert my
grief add but to its intensity, and that nothing can console me?
Captive in this detestable palace, which resounds from day to
day with the cries of innocence oppressed, I suffer less from
the mere loss of liberty than from the terror which the hated
tenderness of the Dey inspires. It is true I have hitherto
found in him but a lover gentle and respectful; but I am not
the less alarmed. I fear lest, wearied by a semblance of devotion,
which cannot but constrain him to put on, he should
resume the rights of power; and this fear agitates me without
ceasing, making of my life but one long torment."</p>
<p>As Donna Theodora finished these words, she wept; and
her tears fell like iron on the heart of poor Don Juan. "It is
not without cause," he at last exclaimed, "that you look on
the future with dread; I am, myself, as much alarmed for it as
you. The respect of the Dey is melting faster than even you
imagine; your submissive lover will soon abandon all the
mildness he assumes. Alas! I know too well the dangers
which surround you.</p>
<p>"But," he continued, his voice changing as he spoke, "shall
I calmly witness your dishonour? Slave though I be, he may
feel the weight of my despair. Before Mezzomorto injures
you, I will plunge in his heart——" "Ah! Don Juan," interrupted
the widow of Cifuentes, "what dreadful project do you
dream of? For Heaven's sake, think of it no more! With
what dreadful cruelties would they avenge his death!
Torments the most refined—I cannot think of them without
trembling! Besides, to what end would you encounter such
a peril? In taking the life of the Dey, would you restore me
to liberty? Alas! I should be sold to some other tyrant who
would treat me with less respect than Mezzomorto. No<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>!"
she exclaimed, throwing herself on her knees, "it is thou,
Almighty Father, who canst alone protect me. Thou knowest
my weakness, and the infamous designs of him in whose power
I am placed. Thou, who forbiddest me to save myself by
poison or the steel, Thou wilt save me in Thy justice from a
crime that is abhorrent in Thy sight."</p>
<p>"Yes, madam," replied Zarata, "Heaven will avert the misfortune
with which you are threatened! I feel already that
it inspires me;—the ideas which flash across my mind are
doubtless prompted by its mercy. Hear me! The Dey has
permitted me to see you, only that I might induce you to return
his love. It is time that I rendered him an account of our
interview; and, in so doing, I shall deceive him. I will tell
him that your grief may be overcome; that his conduct towards
you has already won for him your esteem, and that, from a
continuance in that conduct, he has everything to hope. Do
you assist me in my design? When he comes next to visit
you, let him find you less sorrowful than usual; and appear, at
least, to be interested in his conversation."</p>
<p>"What a task would you impose on me!" interrupted Donna
Theodora. "How is my soul, always frank and open, to
assume such a disguise, and what will be the fruit of so
painful a deception?" "The Dey," replied Zarata, "will be
flattered by this change in your deportment, and will be
anxious to complete his conquest of you by gentle means.
In the meanwhile, I will endeavour to effect your freedom:
it will be difficult, I acknowledge; but I am acquainted with
a slave on whose address and enterprise some reliance may
be placed.</p>
<p>"I leave you," he continued, "as no time is to be lost: we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>
shall meet again. I now go to the Dey; whose impetuous
ardour I hope to restrain by some well-invented fables. And
you, madam, prepare to receive him; constrain yourself to
deceit. Let your eyes, which his presence offends, display
neither hatred nor pride; let your lips, which now unclose but
to express your affliction, form for him honeyed words of respect;
you must indirectly promise all, in order that you may concede
nothing." "Enough!" replied the lady, "I will do as
you desire, since the danger that impends over me compels
me to this cruel necessity. Go! Don Juan, employ all your
thoughts to end my slavery: my freedom will be doubly sweet,
if owing to you."</p>
<p>As soon as the Toledan repaired to Mezzomorto, the latter
cried with great emotion: "Well! Alvaro, what news do you
bring to me of my lovely captive? Have you inclined her
to listen to my vows? Tell me not that her ceaseless grief
refuses to yield to my tenderness; or I swear, by the head of
the Commander of the Faithful himself, that force shall wring
from her what affection cannot win." "Signor," replied Don
Juan, "that oath were useless now: you will have no need of
violence to gratify your passion. Your slave is young,—has
never loved;—and she whose pride disdained the offers of
the noblest of her native land, in which she lived as queen,
and here exists in chains, may well ask time to reconcile her
haughty spirit to her new condition. This, proud as she is,
habit will soon effect; and even now, I dare affirm, the yoke
is felt less heavy: the kindness you have shown, the respectful
cares which she could never have expected from yourself, have
already lessened her misfortune, and must triumph over her
disdain. Continue, Signor, this gentle observance; continue—and
complete the charm which dissipates her grief, by new
attentions to each fond caprice; and you will shortly find her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span>
yield to your desires, and lose her love of liberty, encircled in
your arms."</p>
<p>"Your words enrapture me," exclaimed the Dey: "the
hopes which you inspire engage me to what you will. Yes!
I will restrain my impatient love, that I may satisfy it the
more worthily. But, do you not deceive me, or are you not
deceived yourself? I will this moment see my lovely mistress;
I will endeavour to discern in her eyes some expression of the
flattering appearances you speak of." And so saying, he
hastened to seek Theodora; while the Toledan returned to the
garden, where he found the slave whose skill he proposed to
employ in the liberation of the widow of Cifuentes.</p>
<p>This slave, named Francisco, was a Navarrese, and was
perfectly acquainted with Algiers and its customs, having there
served two or three masters before he was purchased by the
Dey as a gardener. "Francisco, my friend," said Don Juan,
accosting him, "you see me in deep affliction. There is, in
the harem of the Dey, a young lady of the highest distinction
of Valencia: she has entreated Mezzomorto to name a ransom
of any amount; but he refuses to do so, having fallen in love
with her." "And why should that annoy you so much?"
asked Francisco. "Because I come from the same town,"
replied the Toledan; "her relations and my own are intimately
connected; and there is nothing which I would not do to
restore her to liberty."</p>
<p>"Well! though that is no easy matter to accomplish," said
Francisco, "I dare undertake to bring it about, provided her
relations are disposed to come down pretty handsomely." "Be
assured of that," replied Don Juan; "I answer for their
gratitude, and especially for her own. Her name is Donna
Theodora: she is the widow of a man who has left her imme<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>nse
possessions, and she is generous as rich. For myself, I am a
Spaniard, and a noble; my word may suffice to convince you
of what I state."</p>
<p>"Well, again!" resumed the gardener: "on the faith of
your word then, I will seek a Catalonian renegade whom I
know, and propose to him——" "What say you?" interrupted
the Toledan, in alarm;—"would you confide in a wretch who
has not been ashamed to abandon his religion for——"
"Although a renegade," interrupted Francisco, in his turn, "he is
nevertheless an honest man. He is rather deserving of your
pity than contempt; and, if the crime he has committed can
be excused at all, I think he may be pardoned. I will tell you
his history in a few words.</p>
<p>"He was born in Barcelona, where he practised as a surgeon.
Finding, however, that he was worse off there than his patients,
he resolved to establish himself at Carthagena, thinking of
course to better his condition. He accordingly embarked
with his mother, for that town; but they were taken on the
way by a pirate, who brought them hither. They were sold;
his mother to a Moor, and he to a Turk, who used him so
badly that he assumed the turban to release himself from
slavery, as also to enable him to free his parent, who was no
better off in the house of the Moor, her master. With this
view, he entered into service with the Dey, and made several
voyages, in which he gained four hundred patacoons: he
employed a portion of this in the ransom of his mother; and,
to make the best use of the remainder, took it in his head to
scour the seas on his own account.</p>
<p>"Appointed captain, he purchased a small open vessel, and
with some Turkish seamen who had sailed with him before, he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span>
set out to cruize between Alicant and Carthagena, and returned
to Algiers, laden with booty. He repeated this several times;
and succeeded always so well that at last he was able to arm
a large vessel, with which he made several prizes, but was in
the end unfortunate. One day, he was imprudent enough to
attack a French frigate, which so mauled his ship that it was
with difficulty he escaped, and regained Algiers. As pirates
are judged here, like their betters elsewhere, according to
their success, the renegade gained the contempt of the Turks
as the reward of his misfortune. Disgusted by this injustice,
he sold his vessel, and retired to a house without the town;
where, since then, he has lived on the produce of his ship, and
what remained of the fruits of his former enterprises, in company
with his mother, and attended by several slaves.</p>
<p>"I often go to see him, for he served with me under my first
master, and we are intimate friends. He conceals nothing
from me; and, only three days ago, he told me, with tears in
his eyes, that, despite his wealth, he had known no peace since
he had renounced his faith; that to appease the remorse which
preyed on him without ceasing, he was sometimes tempted to
trample his turban under foot, and, at the risk of being
burned alive, to repair, by a public avowal of his repentance,
the insult he had offered to the Mediator whom in secret he
still adored.</p>
<p>"Such is the renegade whom I am about to consult," continued
Francisco: "surely, a man like him may be trusted by
you. I will seek him, under pretext of going to the bagnio; I
will represent to him, that instead of consuming his life in vain
regret at his exclusion from the bosom of the church, he should
act so as to assure his forgiveness and reception; that to do
this he has only to equip a vessel, as if, disgusted with a life of
inaction, he intended to resume his piracies; and that, with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span>
this vessel, we may gain the coast of Valencia, where, once
arrived, Donna Theodora will give him wherewith to pass the
remainder of his life in tranquillity at Barcelona."</p>
<p>"Yes! my dear Francisco," cried Don Juan, transported
with joy at the hope thus raised by the Navarrese slave,—"yes!
you may promise all this, and more, to your renegade
friend; both he and yourself may be sure of a rich reward.
But, do you conceive it possible to execute the project you
conceive?" "There may be difficulties," replied Francisco,
"which I do not contemplate; but, rely on it, that I and my
friend will overcome them all." "Alvaro," he added, as they
parted, "I hope well for our enterprise; and I trust that, when
we meet again, I shall have good news to tell you."</p>
<p>With what anxiety did the Toledan await the return of
Francisco! At last he came. "I have seen the renegade,"
he said, "and have opened to him our design. After much
deliberation, we have arranged that, to save time, he shall
purchase a vessel already fitted for sea; that, as it is permitted
to employ slaves as sailors, he shall take with him those who
now serve him; that, however, to guard against suspicion, he
shall also engage some dozen others, as if he really designed
what he pretended; but that, two days before the time fixed
for his departure, he shall embark, by night, with his own
people, and weigh anchor, after coming for us with his boat
to a little door which leads from the garden, close by the
sea. This is our plan; of which you can inform the captive
lady, assuring her that in a fortnight from this time she shall
be free."</p>
<p>How great was the joy of Zarata, to be able to convey
such welcome intelligence to the Donna Theodora! To<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span>
obtain permission to see her, on the following day, he sought,
without appearing to do so, Mezzomorto; and, having met
with him: "Signor," said he, "dare I enquire how you have
found your lovely slave? Are my hopes fulfilled?—" "I am
delighted," interrupted the Dey; "her eyes no longer shun
the tender glance of mine; her words, which heretofore presented
but the picture of her griefs, no longer breathe complaint;
and for the first time, she seemed to listen to my own
without aversion.</p>
<p>"It is to you, Alvaro," he continued, "that I owe this happy
change: I see," he added, good-humouredly, "that you are in
favour with the ladies of your country. I will trust you, however,
to speak with her again, that you may finish well what
you have so well begun. Exhaust thy fertile genius to attain the
bliss I seek, and thy chains are turned to gold. Yes! I swear,
by the spirit of our Holy Prophet, that I will restore you to
your home, so loaded with my favours, that your Christian
friends shall not believe you, when you tell them you return
from slavery."</p>
<p>The Toledan, although somewhat conscience-stricken, did
not fail to continue Mezzomorto in the flattering error he indulged.
Affecting gratitude for his kindness, and under pretext
of hastening its accomplishment, he left the Dey at once to
see the charming slave; and, finding her alone in her apartment,
he lost no time in informing her of what the Navarrese
and the renegade intended on her behalf.</p>
<p>The lady was of course greatly delighted to hear that already
such strides were making towards her deliverance. "Is it
possible," she cried, "that I may hope again to see Valencia,
my own dear native land? Joy, joy!" she continued,—"after
so many dangers and alarms, to live in peace once more with
you! Ah! Don Juan, this is happiness indeed! Can I doubt<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span>
that your heart partakes of it? Remember, Zarata, that, in
snatching me from the Dey, you bear away your wife!"</p>
<p>"Alas!" replied the Toledan, sighing deeply, "how delicious
were those words to my expecting soul, did not the
remembrance of an unhappy aspirant for thy love dash their
sweet fragrance with alloy! Pardon me, madam, that at such
a moment I should think of aught but you! But you must
acknowledge that a friend like Mendoza merits thy pity as my
own. It was for thee he left Valencia; it was in search of thee
that he became a slave; and I feel sure that, at Tunis, he is
not bowed down so much by the weight of his chains, as with
despair at failing to avenge thee."</p>
<p>"He merited indeed a happier lot," said Donna Theodora;
"and I call Heaven to witness that I am deeply affected at
what he suffers on my account. Yes! I accuse myself of the
pains which he endures; but, such is my destiny, my heart
can never be their recompense."</p>
<p>This conversation was interrupted by the coming of the two
old dames who attended on the widow of Cifuentes. Don
Juan immediately assumed the confidant of the Dey: "Yes,
fair lady," said he to Theodora, "you have deprived him of
liberty who keeps you in chains. Mezzomorto, your master
and my own, the most loving and the most amiable of Turks,
is your slave. Treat him with the favour you now deign to
show him, and soon will a joyous end arrive to his sufferings
and your own." Zarata bowed respectfully as he pronounced
these words, the purport of which was well understood by the
lady to whom they were addressed, and left the apartment.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 224px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic11.png" width="224" height="234" alt="Portrait of Mezzomorto" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span></p>
<p>During the following week, affairs remained in this position
in the palace of the Dey. In the meantime, however, the
renegade had purchased a small sloop, and was making preparations
for its putting to sea; but, six days before it was
ready, a new subject for alarm occurred to Don Juan.</p>
<p>Mezzomorto sent for him, and, taking him into his cabinet:
"Alvaro," he said, "thou art free!—free to return when thou
wilt to Spain; the reward that I have promised now awaits
thee. I have seen my lovely slave this day;—ah! how unlike
the creature whose sorrow filled my breast with anguish!
Daily does the feeling of captivity grow weaker; and so bright
are now her charms, that I have resolved at once to make her
mine: in two days she shall be my wife."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p>
<p>Don Juan changed colour at these words, and, with all the
effort that he made to constrain them, could not conceal his
trouble and surprise from the Dey, who asked him the cause of
this emotion.</p>
<p>"Signor," replied the Toledan, with embarrassment, "I cannot
control my astonishment at hearing one of the greatest
princes of the Ottoman empire avow his intention of so far
humbling himself as to wed with a slave. I know that this is
not without precedent; but, for the illustrious Mezzomorto,
who might aspire to the daughter of the highest in the service
of the Sultan, to"—"I agree to what you say," interrupted the
Dey; "I might marry with the daughter of the Grand Vizier,
and even hope to succeed him in his office: but I have great
wealth, and small ambition. I prefer repose, and the delights
I enjoy here in my vice-royalty, to the dangerous honours to
which we are no sooner elevated, than the fear of our sovereign,
or the jealousy of the envious who surround him, prepares for
us a fall. Besides, I love this slave; and her beauty and
virtue render her worthy of the rank to which my affection
calls her.</p>
<p>"It is however necessary," he added, "that she should at
once renounce her religion, to attain the honour for which I
destine her. Think you that absurd prejudices will induce her
to despise that honour?" "No, Signor," replied Don Juan;
"I am persuaded that on reflection, she will hold her faith as
too small a sacrifice to your love. But, permit me to say that
this should not be proposed too hastily. There is no doubt
that the idea of abandoning the creed she lisped almost on her
mother's bosom will at first revolt her: give her therefore time
to reflect on the inducements to a change. When she remembers
that, instead of using your power over her person, and
then abandoning her to grow old among the neglected slaves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span>
of your caprice, you seek to unite her to yourself for ever, by a
marriage which crowns her with honour, her gratitude—her
woman's vanity—will by degrees vanquish her scruples.
Defer therefore for a week, at least, the execution of your
design."</p>
<p>The Dey remained for some time in deep thought: the
delay that his confidant proposed suited but ill to his desires;
nevertheless, the counsel appeared judicious. "I yield to
your advice, Alvaro," at last he said, "impatient as I am to
press the lovely captive to my heart. I will wait a week, as
you request. Go!" he continued, "see her at once, and dispose
her to fulfil my wishes, when that time shall have passed.
I am anxious that Alvaro, who so well has tutored the fair
one to my will, should have the honour of tendering to her my
hand."</p>
<p>Don Juan hastened to the apartment of Theodora, and
informed her of what had passed between the Dey and himself,
that she might conduct herself accordingly. He also informed
her that in six days the vessel would be ready; and, as she
was anxious to know how, when the time arrived, she was to
escape, seeing that all the doors of the rooms she had to
traverse, in the usual way of reaching the staircase, were well
secured: "Let not that embarrass you," he answered; "a
window of your ante-room looks upon the garden; and you
may thence descend, by a ladder which I will take care to
provide."</p>
<p>The six days added their units to eternity, and Francisco
informed the Toledan that the renegade was prepared to sail
on the coming night: you may guess with what impatience it
was expec<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span>ted. It came, and, graciously for the fugitives,
shrouded in its thickest mantle to cover their flight. At the
appointed moment, Don Juan placed the ladder against the
window of the ante-room, and the watchful captive hastened to
descend, trembling with agitation and suspense. She reached
the ground in safety, and leaning on the arm of the Toledan,
the latter lost no time in conducting her to the little door
which opened on the sea.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 120px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic12.png" width="120" height="222" alt="Donna Theodora descends the ladder" />
</div>
<p>They walked with hasty steps, enjoying, by anticipation, the
happiness of recovered freedom; but fortune, not even now
disposed to favour these unhappy lovers, plunged them into
grief more dire than they had yet experienced, and of a nature
that they least expected.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 147px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic13.png" width="147" height="169" alt="Donna Theodora and Zarata hurry away" />
</div>
<p>They had already left the garden, and were advancing to
the shore, where the sloop awaited them, when a man whom
they took for an accomplice in their escape, and of whom,
therefore, they had no suspicion, came upon Don Juan, sword
in hand, and thrust it in his breast. "Perfidious Alvaro Ponza!"
he exclaimed, "it is thus that Don Fabricio de Mendoza
punishes a base seducer: you deserve not that I should attack
you openly as an honest man."</p>
<p>The Toledan could not resist the force of the blow, which
stretched him on the earth; and, at the same moment, Donna
Theodora, whom he supported, struck with surprise, with grief
and fear, fell in a swoon beside him. "Ah! Mendoza," cried
Don Juan, "what have you done? It is your friend whose
bosom you have pierced!" "Gracious Heaven!" exclaimed
Don Fabricio, "is it possible that I have assassinated——"
"I pardon you my death," interrupted Zarata; "destiny is
alone to blame, or rather it has so willed it, to end our <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span>misfortunes.
Yes! my dear Mendoza, I die contented, since I
restore to your hands the Donna Theodora, who will convince
you that my friendship for you has never belied itself for an
instant."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic14.png" width="268" height="251" alt="Zarata stabbed by Mendoza" />
</div>
<p>"Too generous friend," said Don Fabricio, prompted by a
feeling of despair, "you shall not die alone; the same point
which wounded you shall punish your assassin: if my error may
excuse my crime, it cannot console me for its committal." As
he spoke, he turned his sword against his breast, plunged it
therein nearly to the hilt, and fell upon the body of D<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>on Juan,
who fainted less from loss of blood, than from horror at the
frenzy of his friend.</p>
<p>Francisco and the renegade, who were not ten paces from
the spot, and who had their reasons for not having defended
the slave Alvaro, were amazed to hear the last words of Don
Fabricio, and still more so to witness his last act. They had
heard enough, however, to know that he had been mistaken,
and that the wounded pair were friends, instead of deadly
enemies, as they had believed. They now therefore hastened
to their assistance; but, finding them both senseless, as also
the Donna Theodora, they were at a loss how to proceed.
Francisco advised that they should content themselves with
bearing off the lady, leaving the two cavaliers on the shore;
where, according to him, if they were not already dead, they
would soon be so. The renegade, however, was not of this
opinion: he said that it would be cruel to abandon the two
unfortunates; that their wounds were probably not mortal, and
that he would look to them when on board his vessel, where he
had been provident enough to stow away all the implements of
his ancient trade.</p>
<p>To this, Francisco made no objection; so, as they both
agreed that there was no inducement to stay where they were,
by the assistance of some slaves, they carried the unhappy
widow of Cifuentes, and her still more unfortunate lovers, to
the boat, and soon joined their ship. There, no time was lost
in spreading the sails; while some upon their knees poured
forth to Heaven the most fervent prayers which fear could
suggest, that they might escape the cruisers of the Dey.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic15.png" width="268" height="164" alt="Theodora, Zarata and Mendoza are carried to the boat" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p>
<p>The renegade, having left the management of the vessel to a
French slave whom he could trust, gave his attention to his
passengers. The lady, of course, claimed his first care; and,
having restored her to life, he took his measures so skilfully,
that Don Fabricio and the Toledan also speedily recovered
their senses. Donna Theodora, who had swooned the instant
Don Juan was struck, was greatly astonished on her recovery
to behold Mendoza; and, although she soon comprehended
that the latter had wounded himself for having incautiously
assailed his friend, she could not look upon him but as the
murderer of the man she loved.</p>
<p>"You would have been affected, Don Cleophas, could you
have seen these three persons at the moment I speak of: the
deathlike stillness from which they had emerged would not
have commanded half your pity.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> There was Donna Theodora,
gazing on Don Juan with eyes which spoke all the feelings of
a soul filled with grief and despair; while the two friends, each
fondly turning upon her their dying looks, were striving to
control the sighs which rent their hearts."</p>
<p>The scene lasted for some time in silence, which Mendoza
was the first to break. "Madam," said he, addressing Donna
Theodora, "I die; but I have the satisfaction of knowing you
are free. Would to Heaven that thy liberty were owing to
myself! But it has decreed that you should owe that obligation
to him whose image you cherish in your heart. I love too
much my rival to complain; and trust that the blow which my
blindness dealt may be too light to prevent his sweet reward."
The lady answered not this touching speech. Insensible, for
the time, to the fate of Mendoza, she could not restrain the
feelings of aversion which the condition of the Toledan, over
whom she hung, inspired in her bosom towards him who had
caused it.</p>
<p>The regenade surgeon now examined and probed the wounds
of the two friends. Beginning with Zarata, he pronounced it
favourable, inasmuch as the sword had only glanced through
the muscles of the left breast, without touching any of the
vital parts. This report, while it lessened the grief of Donna
Theodora, gave great delight to Don Fabricio, who, turning
his head towards the lady, exclaimed, "Madam, I die without
regret, since the life of my friend is out of danger: you will
forgive me now."</p>
<p>He pronounced these words with so much pathos, that the
widow of Cifuentes was moved beyond expression. As she
no longer feared for Don Juan, she ceased to hate Mendoza,
and beheld in him now but an object of the deepest pity.
"Ah! Don Fabricio," she exclaimed, her generous nature
resuming its influence, "let them attend to your wound;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> it
is, I trust, not more dangerous than that of your friend. Let
not your feelings interfere to render the cares of those who
love you useless. Live!—if I cannot yield felicity to you, at
least I will never bestow it on another. Friendship and compassion
shall restrain the hand that I would give to Don Juan:
I will sacrifice for you, as he has done, the dearest wishes of
my heart."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 268px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic16.png" width="268" height="209" alt="Mendoza addresses Donna Theodora" />
</div>
<p>Don Fabricio would have replied; but the surgeon, fearing
that in his case, as in trouble generally, talking would only
increase the ill, imposed silence, while he examined his wound.
On so doing, he saw that it was likely to prove mortal, as the
sword had penetrated the lungs, and the consequent loss of
blood had been excessive. Having however dressed it with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span>
care, he left the cavaliers to repose; and that a matter so
essential to them, in their present state, might be secured, he
took with him, as he left the cabin, Donna Theodora, whose
presence seemed likely to disturb it.</p>
<p>But despite all these precautions, Mendoza was seized with
fever, and towards midnight the wound began to bleed afresh.
The renegade then thought it right to inform him that all hope
of recovery was over, and that, if he had anything which he
wished to communicate to his friend, or to Donna Theodora,
he had no time to lose. The Toledan was greatly affected on
hearing the declaration of the surgeon: for Don Fabricio, he
listened to it with indifference. He calmly requested that
the regenade would summon the widow of Cifuentes to his
side.</p>
<p>Donna Theodora hastened to the dying man, in a state more
easy to conceive than to describe: tears streamed down her
cheeks, and sobs choked her utterance;—so violent was her
affliction, that Mendoza could not repress his agitation at the sight.
"Madam," he exclaimed, "I am unworthy of the precious
drops which dim those lovely eyes: restrain them, I entreat
you, and listen to me for a few moments. And you also, my
dear Zarata," he continued, observing the excess of grief in
which his friend indulged, "control your feelings for a while,
and hear me. I well know that to you this separation is a
painful shock; your friendship is too well assured for me to
doubt it; but wait, both of you, until the earth shall have
hidden me from your sight; and honour, with those marks of
tenderness and pity, my silent grave.</p>
<p>"Suspend until then your affliction; I feel it now more than
the loss of life. Let me relate to you the way by which the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span>
fate that pursues me conducted me this night to the fatal shore
which I have stained with the blood of my friend, and my
own. You must be anxious to learn how it happened that I
mistook Don Juan for Alvaro; I will tell you, if the short time
which it is permitted me to live will enable me to do so.</p>
<p>"Some hours after the vessel in which I was had quitted
that wherein I had left Don Juan, we met a French privateer,
which attacked and took the Tunisian pirate, and landed us
near Alicant. I was no sooner free, than I thought on the
ransom of my friend; and, to effect this I went to Valencia to
obtain the necessary funds. There, learning that at Barcelona
some brothers of the Holy Order of Redemption were just
about to sail for Algiers, I set out for the former town. Before
leaving Valencia, however, I begged my uncle the governor,
Don Francisco de Mendoza, to use all his influence with the
court of Madrid to obtain the pardon of Zarata, that, on his
return with me, he might be reinstated in his former possessions,
which had been confiscated in consequence of the death
of the Duke of Naxera.</p>
<p>"As soon as we had arrived at Algiers, I went to all the places
frequented by the slaves; but in vain did I run them through,
I found not the object of my search. This morning, I met
the regenade Catalonian, to whom this vessel belongs, and
whom I recognized as a man who had formerly attended my
uncle. I told him the motive of my voyage, and requested
him to make strict inquiry for my friend. 'I am sorry,' he
replied, 'that it is out of my power to serve you. I leave
Algiers to-night, with a lady of Valencia, one of the Dey's
slaves.' 'And who is this lady,' I demanded. 'She is called
the Donna Theodora,' was his startling answer.</p>
<p>"The surprise which I exhibited at this information told t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span>he
regenade at once that I was interested in this lady's fate. He
therefore informed me of the design which he had formed for
her liberation; and as, during his recital, he mentioned the
slave Alvaro, I had no doubt that it was Alvaro Ponza himself
of whom he spoke. When he had finished: 'Assist me
in my resentment!' I exclaimed, with transport; 'furnish
me with the means of avenging myself upon my enemy!'
'You shall soon be satisfied,' replied the regenade; 'but,
tell me first what subject of complaint you have against this
same Alvaro.' I related to him all our history; which, when
he had heard: 'Enough!' he cried, 'you shall accompany
me to-night. They will point out to you your rival; and, when
you have punished him for his villany, you shall take his place,
and join with us in conducting Donna Theodora to Valencia.'</p>
<p>"Nevertheless, my impatience did not cause me to forget Don
Juan. I left the money for his ransom in the hands of Francisco
Capati, an Italian merchant, who resides at Algiers, and
who promised me to effect it, if by any means he could discover
him. At last, the night arrived; I went to the house of the
regenade, who led me, as he had promised to the sea shore.
We concealed ourselves near a little door, whence shortly
issued a man who came directly towards us, and, pointing to
two persons who followed him, said 'There are Alvaro and
Donna Theodora.'</p>
<p>"Furious at this sight, I drew my sword, ran to meet the
unfortunate Alvaro, and, imagining that it was my hated rival
whom I struck, I thrust my weapon into the bosom of the
faithful friend whom I had come to seek. But, Heaven be
praised!" he continued with emotion, "my error will not cost
him his life, nor cause eternal grief to Donna Theodora."</p>
<p>"Ah! Mendoza," interrupted the lady, "you do injustice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span>
to my tears; never shall I console myself for your own loss.
Even should I espouse your friend, it will be only to unite our
griefs: your love, your friendship, your misfortunes will ever
be present to our recollection,—the sole topic for our tongues."
"It is too much, madam," replied Don Fabrido; "I am not
worthy thus to trouble thy repose. Permit, I entreat thee,
Zarata to call thee his, on the day when he shall have revenged
thy wrongs on Alvaro Ponza." "Don Alvaro," said the widow
of Cifuentes, "is no more; on the same day that he forced
me from my home, he was killed by the pirate who enslaved
me."</p>
<p>"Madam," replied Mendoza, "my wavering soul rejoices at
the welcome news; my friend will be the sooner happy.
Follow without control your mutual inclinations. I see, with
joy, the hour approach which removes from you, for ever, the
obstacle which your generous compassion has raised against
your happiness. May your days glide in peace, and in an
union which the envy of fortune may never dare to trouble!
Adieu, Madam;—adieu, Don Juan!—think sometimes, in
your joy, of one who has never loved but you."</p>
<p>Donna Theodora and the Toledan were unable to reply to
this affectionate address, except by tears, which redoubled as
he spoke. Mendoza, therefore, perceiving their grief, thus
continued: "But I have done with earth! Death already points
me out my way; and I have not yet supplicated the Divine
mercy to pardon me for having, by my own folly, shortened a
life of which it should have alone disposed." He spoke no
more; but, raising his eyes to Heaven, appeared to be engaged
in mental prayer for its forgiveness; when a gurgling in his
throat told that a last outbreaking of his wound had taken
place, and he expired.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span></p>
<p>Don Juan, as he heard the fatal rattling which indicated what
was passing, was maddened with despair. His hands sought
his own wound; and tearing it open, he would have soon
joined his friend, but that the renegade and Francisco threw
themselves upon him, and withheld his fury: Donna Theodora,
woman-like, forgetful of her own woes at sight of the transport
of the Toledan, hastened to soothe him by her tenderness; and—what
will not love do?—soon brought him to himself: in
short, the lover triumphed over the friend. But, if reason
regained its sway, it was only to resist the insensate frenzy of
his grief, and not to weaken its sentiment.</p>
<p>The renegade, who, among the many things which he was
bearing from Algiers, happened to have balsam of Arabia, and
other precious requisites, undertook to embalm the body of
Mendoza, at the request of Donna Theodora and her now unrivalled
lover; who were anxious to render to their friend's
remains all proper honours of sepulture at Valencia. Love,
with them, did nothing but sigh and moan, during the voyage;
not so, however, with their companions: they were rejoiced by
favourable winds, which soon brought them in sight of the
coast of Spain, to the inexpressible delight of those, which
included the whole crew, who had never expected to behold it
again.</p>
<p>When the vessel had happily arrived at the port of Denia,
every one took his own course. For the widow of Cifuentes
and the Toledan, they sent a courier to Valencia, with letters
for the governor and the friends of Donna Theodora. Alas!
while the intelligence of the return of this lady brought joy to
her relations, that of the death of his nephew caused the deepest
affliction to Don Francisco de Mendoza.</p>
<p>The poor old man, accompanied by the relatives of the rel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>eased
lady, lost no time in repairing to Denia; and there,
insisting on beholding the body of the unhappy Don Fabricio,
he bathed it with his tears, uttering such deep complaints as
melted the hearts of the beholders. Then, turning to the
Toledan, he requested to be informed of the unfortunate events
which had brought his nephew to so sad an end.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic17.png" width="266" height="209" alt="Don Francisco de Mendoza mourning his nephew" />
</div>
<p>"I will tell you," replied Zarata: "far from seeking to efface
them from my memory, I feel a mournful pleasure in recalling
them to my mind, and in indulging my grief." He then related
to Don Francisco all that had occurred; and this recital, while
it brought fresh tears to his own eyes, added to those which
flowed from those of his aged listener. Meanwhile the friends
of Theodora were occupied in testifying the delight which was
elidted by her unexpected return, and in felicitating her on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> the
miraculous manner in which she had been delivered from the
tyranny of Mezzomorto.</p>
<p>After all things had been satisfactorily explained, they placed
the body of Don Fabricio in a hearse, and bore it to Valencia.
It was not, however, buried there, because, as the period of the
vice-royalty of Don Francisco was nearly expired, that nobleman
was preparing to return to Madrid, where he had resolved
that his nephew should be interred. While the preparations
for the funeral were making, the widow of Cifuentes was employed
in loading Francisco and the renegade with the fruits of
her gratitude. The Navarrese retired to his own province, and
the surgeon returned with his mother to Barcelona, where he
sought once more the bosom of the church, in which he lives
to this day snugly enough. And now, when all was completed,
Don Francisco received an express from the court, conveying
the pardon of Don Juan, which the king, notwithstanding his
consideration for the house of Naxera, had been unable to
refuse to all the Mendozas who had united to ask the grace.
This pardon was the more welcome to the Toledan, inasmuch
as it gave him liberty to accompany the body of his friend to
its last home, which he would not otherwise have dared to do.</p>
<p>At last the sorrowful procession, attended by a numerous
concourse of noble mourners, set out for Madrid; where it
was no sooner arrived, than all that remained of Don Fabricio
was deposited in yonder church, where Zarata and the Donna
Theodora, with the permission of the Mendozas, erected a
splendid monument to his memory. Nor did they bury their
grief with their friend: they bore at least its outward sign for
the unusual space of an entire year, that the world might know
how deeply they deplored his loss.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch15pic18.png" width="265" height="210" alt="Zarata falls from his horse" />
</div>
<p>After having exhibited such signal proofs of their affection
for Mendoza, they married; but by an inconceivable effort of
the force of friendship, Don Juan for a length of time still
preserved a melancholy that not even love could banish.
Don Fabricio, his dear Don Fabricio, was ever present in his
thoughts by day; and, by night, he saw him in his dreams, and
mostly as he had beheld him when the last sigh escaped him.
His mind, however, began to be relieved from these saddening
visions,—the charms of his beloved Theodora, which had ever
possessed his soul, commenced their triumph over his baneful
remembrances; in short, Don Juan once more touched upon
happiness. But, a few days since, while hunting, he was thrown
from his horse, fell upon his head, and fractured his skull.
Physicians could not save him; he is just dead: and it is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span>
Theodora whom you see, in the arms of the two women, and
who will probably soon follow him to the grave.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 229px;">
<img src="images/ch15tailpiece.png" width="229" height="177" alt="Tailpiece of a still-life with fruit" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XVI.</h5>
<h4>THE DREAMERS.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiall.png" width="75" height="76" alt="L" />
</div>
<p>Leandro Perez, as soon as Asmodeus had
finished this narrative, said to him: "A very
pretty picture of friendship have you presented!
But, rare though it be to see two men so bound by
love as the Toledan and Don Fabricio, I imagine it were quite
impossible to find two rivals of the softer sex, who could so
generously sacrifice to each other, for friendship's sake, the
man they love."</p>
<p>"Doubtless!" replied the Devil: "that is a sight the world
ne'er saw, and one that, as it grows older, it probably never
will see. Women have no affection for each other. I will
suppose two who think themselves friends; I will even go the
length to suppose that they never speak ill of one another when
apart,—so extraordinary are the ties which bind them. Well!
see them together; and incline the least towards the one, and
rage shall fill the bosom of the other; not that she cares an
atom for yourself, but because she would be preferred by all.
Such is the character of woman: jealousy occupies too large a
portion of her heart to leave room for friendship."</p>
<p>"The history of these peerless friends," replied Don Cleophas,
"possesses a slight touch of the romantic, and has led us<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span>
somewhat from our object. The night is far advanced, and we
shall soon behold the brilliant heralds of the coming day: I
expect of you, therefore, a new pleasure. I perceive a great
number of persons still sleeping, and wish you to satisfy my
curiosity by informing me of their dreams." "Willingly!"
replied the Demon. "You are, I see, an admirer of <i>les
tableaux changeants;</i> I will gratify your taste."</p>
<p>"Thanks!" said Zambullo: "I expect that I am about to
hear of rare absurdities in these same dreams." "And why?"
asked the Cripple: "you, so well versed in Ovid, do you not
know that it is towards break of day that dreams visit the mind
with presages of truth, because at that time the soul is disengaged
from the vapours of digestion?" "Oh! as to that,"
replied the Student, "despite of master Ovid, I have no faith
in dreams." "You are wrong, then," exclaimed Asmodeus:
"you should neither treat them as fantastic visions, nor yet
believe them all; they are liars, who sometimes speak the truth.
The emperor Augustus, whose head had well adorned a
student's shoulders, despised not dreams which turned upon
his fate; and nearly took it in his head, at the battle of
Philippi, to strike his tent, on hearing of a dream which regarded
himself. I could cite a thousand examples to you,
which would convince you of your folly in this respect; but I
forbear to do so, that I may at once satisfy the new desire
which prompts you.</p>
<p>"We will begin by this handsome mansion on our right. Its
proprietor, whom you see ensconced in that superb apartment,
is a liberal and gallant noble. He is dreaming that he is at
the opera, listening to a new prima donna; and that the voice
of the syren is just enslaving his heart.</p>
<p>"In the next apartment lies the countess, his wife, who love<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span>s
play to madness. She dreams that she has no money, and that
she is pawning her diamonds with a jeweller, who is lending
her thereon three hundred pistoles, deducting only a very
moderate discount.</p>
<p>"In the next house, on the same side, lives a marquis of the
same stamp as the count, and who, for the moment, is in love
with a celebrated, but capricious, beauty. He dreams that he
is borrowing largely of an usurer for the purpose of securing her
to himself; while his steward, who is sleeping at the top of the
house, is dreaming that he is growing rich as fast as his master
is hastening to ruin. Well! what think you of these dreams?
Is there anything in them so extravagant?" "No! on my
life," replied Don Cleophas, "I begin to think Ovid is right:
but who is that man whom I see, lying with his mustachios in
paper, and preserving in his sleep an air of gravity which would
indicate that he is no ordinary cavalier." "He is a country
gentleman," replied the Demon,—"a viscount of Aragon,
imbued with all the pride of that province. His soul at this
moment swims in delight; he dreams that he is with a grandee
who is yielding to him precedence in a public ceremony.</p>
<p>"But," continued Asmodeus, "I observe in the same house two
brothers, apothecaries, whose dreams are particularly unpleasant.
One of them is reading, in his sleep, an ordinance which
decrees that doctors shall not be paid, except when they have
cured their patients; and his brother is occupied with a similar
law, which ordains that medical attendants shall head the procession
at the funeral of all who die in their hands." "I could
wish," interrupted Zambullo, "that these decrees were as true
as they would be just; and that your doctor were thus compelled
to be present at the burial of his innocent patient, as a
<i>lieutenant criminel</i>, in France, is bound to witness the execution
of the guilty wretch whom he has condemned." "I like yo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span>ur
comparison," exclaimed the Devil: "it might be said in such
a case, however, that the one merely superintends the execution
of his own sentence; but that the other, having already
performed his especial function, pursues his victim after death."</p>
<p>"Hollo!" cried the Student, "who is that personage rubbing
his eyes, and rising in such tremendous haste?" "He," replied
Asmodeus, "is a noble signor who is soliciting an appointment,
as governor, in the Indies. A frightful dream has startled
him from sleep: he fancied himself at court, and that the
premier had passed him with averted eyes. And there, too, is
a youthful damsel, waking to the world, not over contented
with her dream. She is a lady of rank, and not more handsome
than discreet. She has two lovers; for one of whom she
nourishes a passion the most tender, and for the other an aversion,
almost amounting to horror. Well! in her sleep just now,
she saw, upon his knees before her, the gallant she detests;
and he was so impassioned, so assiduous, that had she not
awakened, she would have treated him with even greater kindness
than she ever bestowed on the lover whom she favours:
nature, during sleep, signor Student, throws off the yoke of
reason, and of virtue.</p>
<p>"Cast your eyes upon that house at the corner of this street:
it belongs to an attorney. Behold him and his wife sleeping
in twin bedsteads, in that room hung with ancient tapestry,
embroidered with grotesque figures. The man of law dreams
that he is about to visit one of your hospitals for the charitable
purpose of relieving a sick client with his own money; while
the lady imagines that her husband is driving out of his house
a sturdy clerk, of whom he has become suddenly jealous."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 261px;">
<img src="images/ch16pic01.png" width="261" height="216" alt="The lady of rank's dream" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span></p>
<p>"I hear ungentle snorings break on the stillness round us,"
said Leandro Perez; "and I fancy they proceed from yonder
plump old man, whom I discern in the house adjoining that of
the attorney." "Precisely so," answered Asmodeus. "It is a
canon chanting in his sleep his <i>Benedicite</i>.</p>
<p>"His neighbour, there, is a silk-mercer, who vends his costly
wares, at his own price, to titled customers, for their time.
His lordly ledger is inscribed with debts amounting to above a
hundred thousand ducats; and he is dreaming that his debtors
are bringing him their gold; while his creditors are horrified
with visions of his own bankruptcy." "These dreams," said the
Student, "certainly have not emerged from Sleep's dark temple
by the same gate." "I fancy not, indeed," replied the Demon:
"the first has passed by the ivory portal of the leaden god,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span>
and the other from that of horn.</p>
<p>"The house adjoining that of the mercer is occupied by a
celebrated bookseller. He has recently published a work
which has been extremely successful. On bringing it out, he
promised to give the author fifty pistoles, in addition to the
price agreed for, should the book run to a second edition;
and he is at this moment dreaming that he is reprinting it without
informing the unfortunate scribe of the fact."</p>
<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Zambullo, "there is no need to ask from
which door that dream proceeded; and I have not the slightest
doubt of its proving one of the least deceitful visions he ever had
in his life. I am perfectly acquainted with those worthy gentlemen,
the booksellers. Heaven help the poor authors who fall
into their hands! To cheat them, is the mystery of their craft."
"Nothing can be more true," replied the Cripple; "but, it
appears, you have yet to become acquainted with those as
worthy gentry—the authors. They are six of one and half-a-dozen
of the other: it is impossible to decide on their relative
merits. By the bye, I will relate to you an adventure which
occurred not a century ago, in this very town, and which will
enlighten you on the subject.</p>
<p>"Three booksellers were supping together at a tavern; and
the conversation naturally turned on the scarcity of good
modern authors. Thereupon, one of them said to his brethren:
'My friends, I must tell you, however, in confidence, that I
have been in luck's way within these few days. I have
purchased a manuscript, for which I paid rather dearly, it is true,
but it is by an author—oh! it is uncoined gold.' One of those
whom he addressed now interrupted him; and boasted of
having been equally fortunate on the preceding day in a similar
purchase. 'And I, gentlemen,' at last exclaimed the t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span>hird, in
his turn,—'I will not be behindhand in confidence with you;
I will show you the gem of manuscripts, of which I only this
morning became the happy owner.' As he finished, each drew
from his capacious pocket the precious acquisition he had
made; when these miracles of authorship turned out to be as
many copies of a new theatrical piece, entitled the Wandering
Jew, which the astonished bibliopoles found had been sold to
each of them separately.</p>
<p>"Near the bookseller, in the next house," continued the
Devil, "you may perceive a timid and respectful lover just
awaking. He loves one of the most sprightly of widows; and
was dreaming, but this moment, that, beside her in the covert
of a dusky wood, whose shade lent courage to his modest
spirit, he was so tender,—so gallant in his speech, that his fair
mistress could not help exclaiming: 'Ah! you are becoming
absolutely dangerous! If I were not steeled against the
flattery of men, I should be lost. But you are all deceivers!
I never trust to words;—actions alone can win me,'—'And
what actions, madam, do you ask of me?' interrupted the
gentle swain: 'must I, to prove the excess of my passion,
undertake the twelve labours of Hercules?' 'Lord! no,
Nicaise,' replied the lady, 'much less would content me.'
Thereupon—he awoke."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch16pic02.png" width="266" height="224" alt="The timid lover's dream" />
</div>
<p>"Prythee, tell me," said the Student, "why yonder man, in
that dark-coloured bed, tosses about so furiously." "He," replied
the Cripple, "is a talented licentiate; and his present agitation
arises from a dream, in which he is disputing in favour of the
immortality of the soul, with a little doctor of medicine, who is
as good a catholic as he is a physician. In the same house,
over the licentiate, lodges a gentleman of Estramadura, named
Don Balthazar Fanfarronico, who has come post-haste to court,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>
to demand a reward for having valiantly slain a Portuguese, by
a musket-shot, in ambush. And of what do you imagine he is
dreaming? Nothing less than that he is appointed to the
government of Antequera, at which he is very naturally dissatisfied:
he thinks he deserves a viceroyalty at least.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 256px;">
<img src="images/ch16pic03.png" width="256" height="275" alt="Man on horseback shot by another, in ambush" />
</div>
<p>"In a furnished house close by, I discover two distinguished
personages, whose dreams are far from pleasant. One of them
is governor of a fortress, where he is now sustaining a fancied
siege, and which, after a faint resistance, he is on the point of
surrendering, with himself and garrison, at discretion. The
other is the bishop of Murcia, whom his majesty has charged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span>
with the task of eulogising a deceased princess, whose funeral
takes place in a day or two. He has, in imagination, just
ascended the pulpit; and there has his imagination left him, for
he has stopped short in the exordium of his discourse." "It
is not impossible," said Don Cleophas, "that this misfortune
may really befall the worthy prelate." "No, truly," replied the
Devil; "for it is not very long since his grace found himself in
a similar predicament on a like occasion.</p>
<p>"And now, if you would like to behold a somnambulist, look
into the stables of this same house: what see you?" "I perceive,"
answered Leandro Perez, "a man walking in his shirt,
and holding, what seems to me, a horse-comb in his hand."
"Well!" replied the Demon, "he is a sleeping groom.
Nightly does he rise in sleep to curry his pampered charge,
and then betake himself to bed again. His fellow-servants
look on the sleek coats of the horses as the frolic work of some
wanton sprite; and the groom himself shares this opinion with
them.</p>
<p>"In the large house, opposite, lives an aged chevalier of the
Fleece, who was formerly viceroy of Mexico. He has fallen
sick; and, as he fears he is about to die, his viceroyalty begins
to trouble him: true it is that he exercised his functions so as
to justify his present inquietude; the chronicles of New Spain,
unless they be belied, make no too honourable mention of his
name. He has just started from a dream, whose horrid visions
float before him still, and which will probably bring about their
own fulfilment in his death." "Ah!" exclaimed Zambullo,
"that must be something extraordinary." "You shall hear,"
replied Asmodeus: "there is really something in it rather
singular. The sickly lordling dreamt he was in the valley of
the dead, where all the victims of his injustice and inhumanity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span>
thronged fiercely round, and heaped upon him menaces and
insult. They pressed upon, and would have torn him limb
from limb; but, as their hot breath seemed to burn his very
brain, he thought he took to flight, and saved himself from their
fury. He had no sooner escaped, than he found himself in a
large hall, hung all around with black cloth, where, sitting at a
table upon which were three covers, he saw his father and his
grandfather. His two dismal companions solemnly beckoned
him to approach; and, with all the gravity which belongs to
the dead, said to him: 'We have waited for you long: come,
take your place beside us.'"</p>
<p>"Oh! the wretched dream," interrupted the Student; "I
could forgive the poor devil, for the fright he is in!" "To
make up for it," resumed the Cripple, "his niece, who reposes
in the apartment over his, passes the night in bliss: sleep
brings to her its brightest illusions. She is a maiden of from
twenty-five to thirty, ugly as myself, and not much better made.
She dreams that her uncle, to whom she is sole heiress, has
ceased to live; and that she sees, in swarms around her,
amiable signors, who dispute for the honour of her slightest
glance."</p>
<p>"If I do not deceive myself," said Don Cleophas, "I hear
some one laughing behind us." "It is no deception," replied
the Devil; "it is a widow laughing in her sleep, a few paces
from us. She is a woman who affects the prude, and who loves
nothing so well as a little friendly scandal: she dreams that
she is chatting with an ancient devotee, whose conversation
could hardly fail to delight one of her taste.</p>
<p>"I cannot help laughing in my turn, to see, in the room
under that of the widow, an honest cit, who lives with diffic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span>ulty
on the little he possesses, but who dreams that he is picking
up pieces of gold and silver, and that the more he gathers the
more remain to glean: he has already filled a large coffer."
"Poor fellow!" said Leandro; "he will not enjoy his treasure
long." "No!" replied the Cripple; "and when he awakes
he will be like the really rich, when dying: he will see all his
wealth disappear."</p>
<p>"If you are curious to know the dreams of two actresses
who live near each other, I will relate them to you. One is
dreaming that she is catching birds with a call; that she strips
them as she takes them, and then throws them to be devoured
by a large tom-cat in which she delights, and which has all the
profit of her skill. The other dreams that she is driving from
her house greyhounds and coach-dogs, which for a long time
have sunned themselves in her presence, having resolved to
confine her affections to a pretty little lap-dog, which has
recently gained her favour."</p>
<p>"Two dreams absurd enough!" cried the Student; "I fancy
that if at Madrid, as formerly in Rome, there were interpreters
of dreams, they would be sadly puzzled to explain these."
"Not so much as you think," replied the Devil: "a very small
acquaintance with the domestic habits of your syrens of the
stage, would enable them to render their sense perfectly intelligible."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 240px;">
<img src="images/ch16pic04.png" width="240" height="284" alt="The actress feeding birds to the tom-cat" />
</div>
<p>"Well! for myself," exclaimed Don Cleophas, "they are
past my comprehension, and that troubles me little: I would
rather be informed who is that lady sleeping in a bed with
amber velvet hangings, bordered with silver fringe, and near
which, upon a small table, I perceive a book and a wax-candle."
"She is a lady of illustrious family," replied the
Demon, "whose establishment is mounted in gallant style, and
who loves to see her livery adorned by young and handsome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>
men. She is accustomed to read in bed, and cannot sleep
without her favourite author. Last night she was indulging in
the Metamorphoses of Ovid: in consequence, she is at this
moment dreaming, extravagantly enough, that Jupiter has
become amorous of her charms, and has entered her service in
the form of a favourite page.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 240px;">
<img src="images/ch16pic05.png" width="240" height="274" alt="The actress, lap-dog under her arm, driving out the other dogs" />
</div>
<p>"Apropos of metamorphoses, there is another subject who
will amuse you. You perceive that man, tasting in the calm
of sleep the exquisite pleasure of imagined flattery. He is an
actor, a veteran of such ancient service, that there is not a
grey-beard in Madrid who can say he witnessed his first
appearance. He has been so long behind the scenes, that he
may be said to have become theatrified. He is not without
talent, but, like most of his profession, he is so vain that he
thinks the part of Man beneath him. Of what think you is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span>
this hero of the slips now dreaming. He imagines that he is
on the point of death; and that round his couch are assembled
all the deities of Olympus, to decide on what they are to do
with a mortal of his importance. He listens while Mercury
insists before the council of the gods that a comedian so
famed, after having so often had the honour of mimicking
themselves, and Jove's own person, on the stage, should not
be subject to the common fate of man, but merits a reception
as a brother god by those who now surround him. Mercury
finishes by moving accordingly, and Momus seconds the
motion; but the male and female members of the celestial
parliament murmuring at the proposition of so extraordinary
an apotheosis, Jupiter, to put an end to the debate, is about to
decree, of his sovereign authority, that the aged son of Thespis
shall be transformed into a theatrical statue, for the amusement
of future generations."</p>
<p>The Devil was about to continue, but Zambullo interrupted
him, exclaiming: "Hold! Signor Asmodeus, you forget that it
is day. I am afraid they will perceive us from the street. If
the gentle public should remark your lordship, we shall hear
such an uproar as we may be glad to put an end to."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 155px;">
<img src="images/ch16pic06.png" width="155" height="301" alt="The actor transformed into a statue" />
</div>
<p>"Never fear!" replied the Demon; "they will not see us.
I have the power ascribed to the fabulous deities of whom I
spoke but now; and like to the amorous son of Saturn, who,
upon Mount Ida, shrouded himself in a cloud, to hide from
the world the blisses he shared with Juno, I am about to
envelope you and myself in a misty veil which the searching
eye of man cannot pierce, but which shall not prevent you
from beholding those things which I wish you to observe." As
he spoke, they were suddenly surrounded by a vapour, which,
although dense as the smoke of a battle-field, offered n<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>o
obstacle to the sight of the Student.</p>
<p>"So now to return to our dreamers," continued the Cripple,——"but
I do not consider," he added, "that the mode in
which you have consumed the night must have fatigued you.
I advise, therefore, that you let me <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span>bear you to your home,
and leave you to a few hours' sleep. In the meanwhile, I will
just take a turn round the earth, and amuse myself after my
fashion; taking care to rejoin you by the time you awake,
when we will continue our laugh at the expense of the swarming
world." "I have no desire to sleep, and am not in the
least fatigued," replied Don Cleophas; "so, instead of leaving
me, do me the pleasure to expound the various objects which
occupy the yawning brains of the persons whom I see already
risen, and who are preparing as it seems to me, to leave their
houses: what can possibly call them out so early?" "What
you ask me is well worth your knowledge," answered the
Demon; "you shall gaze on a picture of the cares, the
emotions, the anguish that poor mortal man gives himself
during life, to occupy, with the vain hope of happiness, the
little space which is granted him between the cradle and the
tomb."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="foliate cul-de-lampe" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XVII.</h5>
<h4>IN WHICH ORIGINALS ARE SEEN OF WHOM COPIES ARE RIFE.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialo.png" width="75" height="77" alt="O" />
</div>
<p>"Observe, in the first place, that troop of beggars
which you see already in the street. They are
libertines, mostly of good birth, who, like the
monks, live on the principle of community of
property; and who pass their nights in debauch at their
haunts, where they are at all times well supplied with bread,
meat, and wine. They are about to separate, each to perform
his part in the churches of this godly city; and to-night,
when reassembled, they will drink to the charitable fools
who piously contribute to their orgies. You cannot but
admire these scoundrels, who so well know the semblances
which art adopts to inspire pity: why, coquettes are less adept
to elicit love.</p>
<p>"Look at those three rogues who are walking off together.
He who, leaning upon crutches, trembles as he moves, and
seems to halt with pain,—who, as he hobbles on, you would
momentarily think must fall upon his face,—despite his long
white beard and wrinkled front, he is a youthful scamp, so
strong and swift, would head the hunted deer. The one
beside him, with that awful scald, is a graceful adolescent,
whose head is covered with a bladder skin which hides as
beauteous curls as ever adorned a courtly page. The third,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span>
who gyrates in a bowl, is a comic rascal, that can bring such
lamentable noises from his stomach as to move the bowels of
all ancient ladies, who even hasten from the topmost floors to
his relief.</p>
<p>"While these mummers, under the mask of poverty, prepare
to cheat the public into charity, I observe hosts of worthy
artisans, who, Spaniards though they be, are on the road to
earn their bread by the sweat of their careworn brows. On all
sides you may behold men rising from their beds, or dressing
hastily, that they may begin anew their various parts upon this
busy stage. How many projects formed in the visionary night
are about to be carried into execution, or to vanish with the
sober light of morn! What schemes prompted by love, by
interest, or ambition, are about to be attempted!"</p>
<p>"What see I in the street?" interrupted Don Cleophas.
"Who is that woman loaded with saintly medals, who walks,
preceded by a footman, in such anxious haste? She has some
pressing business in hand, beyond a doubt." "Indeed she has,"
replied the Devil; "she is a venerable matron, hurrying to a
neighbouring house where her ministry is suddenly required.
She seeks a fair comedian who suffers for the fault of Eve, and
near whom are a brace of cavaliers in sore perplexity. One of
these is her spouse, and the other a noble friend, who is greatly
interested as to the result: for the labours of your actresses
resemble those of Alcmena; there being ever a Jupiter and an
Amphitryon who share in their production.</p>
<p>"Would not one swear now, to look on that mounted cavalier,
carrying a carbine in his hand, that he was a sportsman about
to war with the hares and partridges who besiege the neighbourhood
of Madrid? Nevertheless, it is no love of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> shooting
which calls him forth so early: he is after other game; and is
bent towards a village, where he will disguise himself as a
peasant, that he may enter, without suspicion, the farm where
his mistress resides, under the vigilant eye of an experienced
mother.</p>
<p>"That young graduate, passing along with such enormous
strides, is going, according to his daily custom, to inquire
after the health of an aged canon, his uncle, whose prebendary
he has in his eye. Do you see, in that house opposite to us,
a man putting on his cloak, evidently preparing to go out?
He is an honest and rich citizen, whom a matter of grave
interest has kept awake all night. He has an only daughter,
of marriageable years, and he is unable to make up his mind
whether he shall give her hand to a young attorney who solicits
it, or to a proud hidalgo who demands it; and he is therefore
going to consult his friends on the subject: in truth, he may
well feel embarrassed. He is justly alarmed lest, by resolving
on the gentleman, he should have a son-in-law who would
despise him; and on the other hand he fears, that if he decide
for the attorney, he will introduce into his house a worm which
will consume all that it contains.</p>
<p>"Look at the neighbour of this anxious parent. You may
perceive, in that house so magnificently furnished, a man in a
dressing-gown of scarlet brocade, embroidered with flowers of
gold: there is a wit for you, who affects the lord in spite of his
lowly origin. Ten years ago, he had not twenty maravedis
wherewith to bless himself; and now, he boasts an annual
revenue of ten thousand ducats. His equipage is in the best
taste; but he keeps it on the savings of his table; whose
frugality is such that he generally picks his chicken by himself.
Sometimes, however, his ostentation compels him to regale his
illustrious friends: to-day, for instance, he gives a di<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span>nner to
some councillors of state; and, in anticipation, he has just
sent for a pastry-cook, with whom he will haggle for a
maravedi, before he agrees with him on the bill of fare, which
it will be his next care to display to advantage." "You are
describing a scaly villain, indeed!" cried Zambullo. "Oh!
as to that," replied Asmodeus, "all beggars whom fortune
suddenly enriches become either misers or spendthrifts: it is
the rule."</p>
<p>"Tell me," said the Student, "who is that lovely woman at
her toilet, talking with that handsome cavalier?" "Ah!
truly," exclaimed the Cripple, "you have hit on a subject which
well deserves your attention. The lady is a German widow,
who lives at Madrid on her dower, and who visits in the best
society; and the young man who is with her is the Signor Don
Antonio de Monsalva.</p>
<p>"This cavalier, although a member of one of the noblest
families in Spain, has pledged himself to the widow to espouse
her; he has even given her a conditional promise of forfeiture
to the amount of three thousand pistoles. He is, however,
crossed in his love by his relations, who threaten to confine
him if he do not immediately break off all connexion with
the fair German, whom they look upon as an adventurer.
The gallant, mortified to find his friends all thus opposed
to his design, went yesterday evening to his mistress, who,
perceiving his uneasiness, asked him its cause. This, after
some hesitation, he told her, assuring her at the same time
that whatever obstacles his family might raise, nothing should
shake his constancy. The widow appeared delighted at his
firmness, and they parted at midnight highly satisfied with
each other.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 253px;">
<img src="images/ch17pic01.png" width="253" height="309" alt="The cavalier visits the German widow" />
</div>
<p>"Monsalva has returned this morning, as you see, to pay
his devoirs to the lady, whom finding at her toilet, he used
every effort to beguile the time by new protestations of
devotion. During the conversation, his Saxon mistress was
releasing her auburn curls from the papers which had confined
them during the night; and our cavalier, happening to t<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span>ake
up one of these, heedlessly unfolded it, and, to his great
surprise, observed therein his own hand-writing. 'What!
madam,' said he, smiling, 'is this the use you make of these
pledges of my affection?' 'Yes! Monsalva,' replied the
lady; 'you behold the value that I put upon the promises of
lovers who would marry me in opposition to their friends;
they make excellent <i>papillotes</i>.' When, indeed, the cavalier
discovered that it was his pledge of forfeiture which his
mistress had thus destroyed, he was filled with admiration at
this unlooked-for proof of disinterestedness, and he is now
very properly vowing to her for the thousandth time, eternal
fidelity.</p>
<p>"Cast your eyes," continued the Devil, "upon that tall man
who is passing beneath us; he has a large common-place book
under his arm, an ink-bottle hanging at his girdle, and a guitar
slung at his back." "He is an odd-looking fellow indeed,"
cried the Student: "I would lay my life he is an original."
"It is beyond a doubt," replied the Demon, "that he is a
curious compound enough. There are such things as cynical
philosophers in Spain; and there goes one. He is walking
towards the Buen-Retiro, to reach a meadow in which there is
a fountain, whose refreshing waters form a brook that glides like
a silver serpent through the flowers. There will he pass the
day, contemplating the beauties of nature, tinkling his guitar,
and noting the reflections that the scene inspires in his
common-place book. He carries in his pockets his ordinary
food, that is to say, a piece of bread and some onions. Such
is the sober life that he has led during ten years past; and
were some Aristippus to say to him, as was erst spoken to
Diogenes: 'If thou knewest how to pay thy court to the great,
thou wouldst not eat onions;' this modern philosopher wou<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span>ld
reply: 'I could pay my court to the great as well as thou, if I
would abase one man so low, as to make him cringe before
another.'</p>
<p>"In truth, however, this philosopher formerly mixed greatly
with the nobility; he even owes his fortune to their patronage;
but, compelled to feel, as all must who move among persons
more exalted than themselves, that the friendship of these
lordlings was to him but an honourable species of servitude, he
broke off all connection with them. At the time I speak of he
kept his carriage; this he subsequently put down, on reflecting
that, as he rolled along, the mud from his wheels was
splashed perhaps upon his betters. Distributing his wealth
among his indigent friends, he reserved for himself no more
than would enable him to live as moderately as he does; and
he kept so much, only because it appeared to him no less
shameful for a philosopher to beg his bread from the people
than from the aristocracy.</p>
<p>"Pity the cavalier who follows this philosopher, and whom
you see accompanied by a dog. He can boast his descent
from one of the most ancient and noble houses of Castile.
He has been rich; but he ruined himself, like the Timon
of Lucian, by feasting his friends every day; and, particularly,
by giving splendid fêtes on the births and marriages
of all the princes and princesses of Spain; in a word, on
every occasion for rejoicing that he could make or find. No
sooner did the discreet parasites who flocked round him see
the ring slip over his purse than they abandoned his house
and himself; one friend alone remains faithful to him now;—it
is his dog."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 220px;">
<img src="images/ch17pic02.png" width="220" height="290" alt="The ruined cavalier and his dog" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span></p>
<p>"Tell me! Signor Asmodeus," cried Leandro Perez; "to
whom belongs the carriage stopping before that house?" "It
is the property of a rich contador, who comes here every morning
to visit a frail beauty, whom this ancient sinner of Moorish
race protects, and whom he loves to distraction. He learned
last night that his female friend had been unfaithful, and in the
fury which this intelligence induced, he wrote her a letter full
of reproaches and threats. You would never guess what part<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span>
the lady took on this occasion: instead of having the impudence
to deny the fact, she sent to the treasurer this
morning, owning that he was justly angered at her conduct;
that he ought henceforth to despise her, since she had been
capable of deceiving so gallant a lover; that she acknowledged
and detested her fault; and that, to punish herself, she had
already sacrificed those locks which he had so often admired;
in short, that she had resolved to consecrate, in a nunnery, the
remainder of her days to repentance.</p>
<p>"The old dotard was unable to withstand the well-feigned
remorse of his mistress, and has risen thus early to console
her. He found her in tears; and so well has she played her
part that he has just assured her of a full pardon for the
past: nay, more, to compensate for the sacrifice of her much-prized
tresses, he is, at this moment, promising to enable
her to cut a figure in the world, by purchasing for her a handsome
country-house, which is just about to be sold, near the
Escurial."</p>
<p>"All the shops are opened, I perceive," said the Student;
"and I observe already a cavalier now entering a tavern."
"That cavalier," replied Asmodeus, "is a youth of family, who
is troubled with the prevailing mania for writing nonsense, that
he may pass as an author. He is not absolutely without
talent; he has even enough to enable him to detect its want
in the dramas which are at present produced on your stage;
but not so much as to qualify him to write a tolerable one
himself. He has gone into that house to order a grand repast:
he gives a dinner to-day to four comedians, whose good graces
he would purchase in favour of a wretched comedy of his concoction,
which he is on the point of presenting to their
company. What will not money do?</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p>
<p>"Apropos of authors," continued the Devil, "there now are
two just meeting in the street. Do you notice the mocking
style of their salutes? They despise each other thoroughly:
and they are right. One of them writes as easily as the poet
Crispinus, whom Horace compares to the bellows of a forge;
and the other wastes a vast deal of time in composing works
as cold and insipid as a water ice."</p>
<p>"Who is the little man descending from his carriage at the
door of that church?" asked Zambullo. "He is a person
worthy your remark," replied the Cripple. "It is not yet ten
years since he abandoned the office of a notary, in which he
was senior clerk, to shut himself up in the Carthusian monastery
of Saragoza. At the end of a six-months noviciate, however,
he left the convent, and re-appeared in Madrid; where those
who had formerly known him were amazed to see him all at
once become one of the principal members of the Council of
the Indies. His sudden fortune is still the wonder of the town.
Some say he has sold himself to the Devil; others, that he is
the beloved of some rich dowager; and some, again, insist
that he must have found a treasure." "Well! you know all
about it, of course," interrupted Don Cleophas. "I should
wonder if I did not," replied the Demon; "but I will unveil
this mystery for you.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 180px;">
<img src="images/ch17pic03.png" width="180" height="219" alt="The novice unearths the casket" />
</div>
<p>"During his aforesaid noviciate, it happened one day that
our intended monk, in digging a deep hole in his appointed
garden, lighted on a brazen coffer, which he opened, of course,
<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span>
and within which he found a golden casket containing some
thirty diamonds of the purest water. Although the pious
horticulturist knew little enough of precious stones, he shrewdly
suspected that whoever had placed them there was wiser; so
resolving on the course which, in one of the comedies of
Plautus, is adopted by Gripus, who abandons fishing when he
has found a treasure, he threw off his gown, returned to Madrid,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span>
and by the assistance of a friendly jeweller, transmuted his
diamonds into pieces of gold, and his pieces of gold into
an office which has procured for him an exalted station in
society."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="foliate cul-de-lampe" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XVIII.</h5>
<h4>RELATING TO OTHER MATTERS WHICH THE DEVIL EXHIBITED TO
THE STUDENT.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiali2.png" width="75" height="76" alt="I" />
</div>
<p>"I must indulge you with a laugh," continued
Asmodeus, "at the cost of an amusing character
whom you see walking into that coffee-house,
over the way. He is a Biscayan physician, and
is going to sip his cup of chocolate; after which he will return
to his home to pass the day at chess.</p>
<p>"While he is thus engaged, do not be alarmed for his
patients; he has none: and if he had, the moments he
employs in play would not be the worst for them. He
moves from his chess-board in the evening to repair to the
house of a rich and handsome widow, with whom he would
be happy to mate, and for whom he affects a knightly passion.
When he is with her, a rascally valet, his only domestic,
and who is aware of his practice with the widow,
brings him a false list, studded with the names of noble
lords and ladies who have sent to seek the doctor. The
lady dreams not he is playing false, and the Biscayan is
therefore fast entrapping her into a false move, which will
win him the game.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 267px;">
<img src="images/ch18pic01.png" width="267" height="217" alt="Three girls getting up" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span></p>
<p>"But," continued the Devil, "let us stop a moment at that
house close by; I would have you remark what is passing
there before we look elsewhere. Run your eyes over the
rooms: what do you observe?" "Why, I can discern some
maidens, whose beauty dazzles me," replied the Student.
"Some are just leaving their beds, and others have already risen.
What charms do they present to my feasting eyes! I can
fancy I behold the nymphs of Diana, but more lovely than the
poets have depicted them."</p>
<p>"If those maidens, as you call them, and whom you admire
so much," replied the Cripple, "have the graces of Diana's
nymphs, they assuredly want their chastity to complete the
picture. They are a parcel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> of good-natured females, who live
upon a common fund. As dangerous as the fair damsels of
chivalry who arrested, by their charms, the knights who passed
before their castle walls, they seek to draw your less heroic
youths within their bowers. And woe betide those whom they
ensnare! To warn the passer-by of the peril which awaits him,
beacons should be set before their doors, as such friendly
monitors are placed on dangerous coasts to mark the places
mariners should shun."</p>
<p>"I need not ask you," said Leandro Perez, "whither go
those signors whom I see lolling in their carriages: they are
doubtless going to the levée of the king." "You have said it,"
replied the Devil; "and if you also would attend it, I will
carry you there before them: we shall have amusement enough,
I promise you." "You could not have proposed a thing more
suited to my taste," replied Zambullo; "and I anticipate all
the pleasure you have promised me."</p>
<p>The Demon, although eager to satisfy Don Cleophas in his
desires, carried him leisurely towards the palace, so that, in
their way, the Student, perceiving some workmen employed
upon a lofty doorway, asked if it were the portal of a church
they were constructing. "No," replied Asmodeus, "it is the
entrance to a new market; and it is magnificent as you see.
However, though they raised its arch until its point were lost in
clouds, it would be still unworthy of two Latin lines which are
to adorn its front."</p>
<p>"What say you?" cried Leandro;—"what a notion would
you give me of the verses that you speak of! I die with
anxiety to hear them." "I will repeat them, then," replied
the Devil; "and do you prepare to admire them.</p>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">'Quam bene Mercurius nunc merces vendit opimas,<br /></span><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>
<span class="i3">Momus ubi fatuos vendidit ante sales!<br /></span>
</div></div>
<p>"In these two lines is concealed one of the most delicate
puns imaginable." "I cannot say I yet perceive its point,"
said the Student; "I do not clearly understand what is referred
to by your <i>fatuos sales</i>." "You are not then aware," replied
the Devil, "that on the spot where they are building this
market for the sale of provisions, there formerly stood a
monkish college in which youth was inducted to the humanities.
The rectors of this college were in the habit of getting
up plays, in which the students figured on the stage. These
plays were, as you may suppose, flat enough as to effect and
language; and were enlivened by ballets, so amusingly absurd,
that everything danced, even to preterites and supines."
"There! that is quite enough," interrupted Zambullo; "I am
quite alive to the stuff of which college pieces are composed—excuse
my pun—but the inscription is admirable."</p>
<p>Asmodeus and Don Cleophas had scarcely reached the grand
staircase of the palace, when the courtiers commenced the
inflating labour of mounting its polished steps. As they passed
our unseen watchers, the Devil did the honour of announcing
them to the Student: "There," said he, pointing with his finger
as he spoke, "there is the Count de Villalonso, of the house
of Puebla d'Ellerena; this is the Marquis de Castro Fueste;
that is Don Lopez de Los Rios, president of the council of
finance; and here is the Count de Villa Hombrosa." He did
not, however, content himself thus with naming them; each
had his legend: and the Demon's sardonic spirit found in the
character of each some weakness to laugh at, or some vices to
lay bare. None passed before him unnoted.</p>
<p>"That signor," said he of one, "is affable and obliging; and
listens to you with an air of kindness. Do you ask his prote<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span>ction,
he grants it freely; nay, proffers you his interest. It is
pity that a man who loves so much to assist his fellow-creatures
should have a memory so bad, that a quarter of an hour after
you have spoken to him, he should forget all you have asked
and he has promised.</p>
<p>"That duke," said he, speaking of another, "is one of the
best characters that haunts the court. He is not, like most of
his equals, one man at this moment and another the next;
there is no caprice, no inequality in his disposition. I may
add to this, that he pays not with ingratitude the affection
that is shown for him, or the services that are rendered in
his behalf. Unfortunately, again, he is too slothful to reward
these kindnesses as they deserve: he leaves so long to be
desired what is so rightfully expected, that when the favour
is at last obtained, it is felt to have been dearly purchased."</p>
<p>After the Demon had thus exhibited to the Student the
good and evil qualities of a great number of signors, he
conducted him into a room in which there were all sorts and
conditions of men, but especially so many chevaliers, that Don
Cleophas could not help exclaiming: "What numberless
knights! By our Lady! there must be enough and to spare of
them in Spain." "I can answer for that," replied the Cripple;
"and it is not at all surprising, since to be dubbed companion
of St. Jago, or of Calatrava, your vigilants require no five-and-twenty
thousand crowns in pocket or estate, as did formerly the
knights of ancient Rome: you perceive therefore that knighthood
is an article most admirably assorted.</p>
<p>"Observe," continued the Devil, "that common-looking
fellow behind us." "Hush!" interrupted Zambullo; "speak
softly, or the man will hear you." "No, no," replied Asmodeus;
"the same charm which renders us invis<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span>ible, prevents
our being heard. Examine him well: he is a Catalonian,
returned from the Philippines, where he ranged the seas as a
pirate. Could you conceive, to look on him, that you beheld a
thunderbolt of war? Nevertheless, he has performed, in his
vocation, prodigies of valour. He is here this morning, to
present a petition to the king, in which he asks, as a recompense
for his services, a certain post, which is vacant. I doubt, however,
if he will succeed, inasmuch as he has neglected duly
to possess the prime minister with a proper notion of his
merits."</p>
<p>"I perceive on the right of the pirate," said Leandro Perez,
"a tall and bulky man, who is sufficiently impressed with an
idea of his own importance: to judge of his station by the
pride of his bearing, he is some wealthy grandee, certainly."
"Nothing can be further from the truth," replied the Demon:
"he is one of the poorest of Hidalgos, who lives on the profits
of a gaming-table, under the protection of one of the
ministers.</p>
<p>"But I see a licentiate, who must not pass without your
notice: it is he whom you can perceive near the first window,
in conversation with a cavalier clad in velvet of a silver grey.
They are discoursing of a matter yesterday decided by the
king; but I will tell you its history.</p>
<p>"Two months ago, this licentiate, who is an academician of
Toledo, published a work on morals, which shocked the
orthodox opinions of all your grey-headed authors of Castile:
they found it full of vigorous expressions and words
newly introduced. It required no more to unite them against
so singular a production; and they therefore instantly assembled,
and agreed upon a petition to his majesty, praying him to
condemn the book as one written in a style dangerous to the
purity and simplicity of the Spanish tongue.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch18pic02.png" width="265" height="215" alt="The three commissioners reporting to the king" />
</div>
<p>"The petition appearing worthy of attention to his majesty,
he named three commissioners to examine the work; and they
estimating its style to be really reprehensible, and the more so
from its peculiar brilliancy, upon their report the king has
decreed that, under pain of his displeasure, those academicians
of Toledo who write after the manner of the licentiate shall
not dare to publish another book; and further that, in order to
preserve the language of Castile in all its purity, such academicians,
after their decease, shall be replaced by persons of the
first quality alone."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span></p>
<p>"That is indeed a marvellous decision!" cried Zambullo,
laughing: "the lovers of our vulgar tongue have henceforth
nought to fear." "Excuse me," replied the Devil; "but your
writers who endanger that noble chastity of style which forms
the delight of all discerning readers, are not confined to the
Toledan academy."</p>
<p>Don Cleophas was now curious to learn who was the cavalier
in silver-grey habiliments, whom he beheld conversing with the
hardy moralist. "He," said the Cripple, "is a Catalonian, an
officer of the Spanish guard, and of course a younger son; but
he is a youth whose tongue is pointed as the sword he wears.
To give you an example of his wit, I will tell you of a repartee
that he made yesterday to a lady whom he met in high society.
But to enable you to enjoy its pungency, I must inform you
that he has a brother, Don Andrea de Prada, who was some
years since, an officer, like himself, in the same corps.</p>
<p>"It happened one day that a farmer of the king's revenues
came to this Don Andrea, and said to him: 'Signor de Prada,
I bear the same name as you, but our families are different. I
am aware that you belong to one of the noblest houses in
Catalonia, but at the same time that you are not rich. Now,
I am of a poor family, and have lots of wealth. Can we not find
a means, therefore, to communicate to each other that which
we mutually want? Have you your titles of nobility?' 'Certainly!'
replied Don Andrea. 'That being the case,' continued
the other, 'if you will confide the documents to my hands, I will
place them in those of an ingenious genealogist, who will set
to work upon them, and will make us relations in spite of our
ancestors. On my part, as in duty bound, I will make my
kinsman a present of thirty thousand pistoles: is it a bargain?'
Don Andrea, dazzled by the proposition, accepted it at once,
gave the parchments to the farmer, and with the money he<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span>
received purchased an estate in his native province, where he
now resides at his ease.</p>
<p>"His younger brother, who gained nothing by the transaction,
was dining yesterday at a house where the conversation
turned by chance on the Signor de Prada, farmer of the king's
revenues. On this, the lady of whom I spoke, turning to the
young officer, asked if the wealthy signor were not related to
him. 'No,' replied he, 'I have not that honour; but I believe
he is a relation of my brother's.'"</p>
<p>The Student laughed, as well he might, at this family distinction,
which appeared to him rather novel. But perceiving at
the moment a little man following a courtier, he cried out:
"Bah! but yon homunculus will lose nothing for the want of reverence
to the signor whom he shadows. He has some precious
favour to intreat, beyond all doubt." "I shall not occupy your
time in vain," replied the Devil, "in telling you the object of
the obsequiousness you observe. The little man is an honest
citizen, who is proprietor of a country house in the suburbs of
Madrid, near which are some mineral springs of fashionable
celebrity. He has lent this house, rent free, for three months to
this signor, that the latter may drink the waters: he is at this
moment very humbly beseeching his noble tenant to serve him
on a pressing opportunity which offers; and the signor is very
politely declining to do so.</p>
<p>"I must not let yon cavalier of plebeian race escape me.
See, where he wades through the expecting throng with all the
air of one of note. He has become immensely rich by force of
calculation, and in his proud mansion has as many servants
as your first grandee; his table would put to shame for delicacy
and abundance that of a minister of state. He has a
carriage for himself, one for his wife, and another for his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span>
children; and in his stables may be seen the best of mules and
the most splendid horses in the world. Only yesterday, he
bought, and paid for on the nail, a superb train of noble
animals, that the prince of Spain had partially agreed for, but
had thought too dear." "What insolence!" exclaimed Leandro.
"A Turk, now, who beheld that lump of arrogance, poised on
so dangerous a height, would watch each instant for its sudden
fall." "I know nothing of the time to come," replied Asmodeus,
"but think your Turk would not be far from right.</p>
<p>"Ah! what is that I see?" continued the Demon with
surprise. "Did I wonder at any thing, I should disbelieve my
eyes. I absolutely discern within this room a poet—the last
whom I should expect to see. How dares he come within
these walls?—he who could write in terms offensive to their
noblest visitants. He must count indeed on the contempt that
he is held in!</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 233px;">
<img src="images/ch18pic03.png" width="233" height="262" alt="The chief magistrate and his page" />
</div>
<p>"But mark particularly that venerable man who enters now,
supported by a page. Observe with what respect the crowd
divides to make way for him. That is the signor Don José de
Reynaste e Ayala, chief magistrate of the police: he comes
hither to inform the king of the events of last night in the
capital. Methinks, signor Student, that we could assist him in
his report! However, regard him with admiration, for he
deserves it." "In truth," replied Zambullo, "he looks like
a man of worth." "It would be well for Spain," replied the
Cripple, "if all its corregidors would take him for their model.
He has none of that intemperate zeal which urges those who
should administer the law to violate its spirit from impetuosity
or caprice; and he respects too much the sacred freedom of
the person to deprive the meanest of his fellow-subjects of that
blessed right on the mere information of an alguazil, a clerk, o<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span>r
even a secretary of police. He knows those gentlemen too
well; and that, for the most of them, their venal souls will
scruple not to traffic on the fund of his authority. When a
man stands before him, accused of crime, he may be sure that
justice will be done towards him; the evidence is sifted until
truth is discovered; and thus the prisons, instead of echoing
the sighs of innocence, perform their proper office of holding
the guilty. Even these are not abandoned to the licence whi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span>ch
ordinarily reigns in gaols. He visits, as a man, those whom, as
a magistrate, he has condemned, and is careful that inhumanity,
in its dispensers, shall not add rigour to the law."</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 221px;">
<img src="images/ch18pic04.png" width="221" height="164" alt="The chief magistrate visiting a prisoner" />
</div>
<p>"What an eulogium!" exclaimed Leandro; "you paint a
man whom angels might agree to worship! You rouse my
curiosity to witness his reception by the king." "I am
annoyed," replied the Devil, "to be obliged to tell you of my
inability to gratify a wish that I expected, without at least
exposing myself to insult. It is not in my vocation, nor am I
permitted, to intrude myself on kings; their cabinet is the
domain of Leviathan, Belphegor, and Ashtaroth; I informed
you, from my bottle, that these three demons preside over the
councils of princes. All others of our craft are denied the
entrée at court; and I know not what I could have been thinking
of, when I offered to bring you here: it was a dangerous
flight to take, I can assure you. If my three loving bret<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span>hren
should perceive me, they would show me no favour, I promise
you, and between ourselves, I would rather avoid the conflict."</p>
<p>"That being so," replied the Student, "let us be off as
quickly as you please: I should die with grief to see you
curried by those wretched grooms, without being able to help
you; for if I lent you a hand, I expect you would shine none
the brighter for my assistance." "Most decidedly not," replied
Asmodeus; "they would never feel the blows that you could
deal them, and you would have the satisfaction of dying under
theirs.</p>
<p>"But," he continued, "to console you for your exclusion
from the cabinet of your potent sovereign, I will procure you a
pleasure quite equal to the one you lose." And as he finished
these words, he took the Student's hand, and away they went,
as fast as the Devil could fly, toward the monastery of Mercy.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="foliate cul-de-lampe" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XIX.</h5>
<h4>THE CAPTIVES.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitiali2.png" width="75" height="76" alt="I" />
</div>
<p>In a moment they were on a house adjoining the
monastery, at the gate of which there was a vast
concourse of persons, of all ages and of both sexes.
"Here's a crowd!" exclaimed Leandro Perez.
"What ceremony can call so many good folks together?" "Why,"
replied Asmodeus, "it is one which you have never witnessed,
though it may be seen from time to time within Madrid. Three
hundred slaves, all subjects of the crown of Spain, are expected
to arrive each minute: they return from Algiers, where they
have been recently purchased by some fathers of the Redemption.
Every street through which they are to pass will be lined
with spectators to welcome them."</p>
<p>"It is true, indeed," replied Zambullo, "that I have never
had the curiosity to behold a similar exhibition; and, if this be
the treat which your worship has reserved to gratify my taste, I
must tell you frankly that you need not have so boasted of its
piquancy." "Oh! I know you well enough," replied the
Devil, "not to be aware that it is no joyous spectacle for you
to look upon the misery of your fellows; but when I tell you
that, in bringing you here to view it under its present form, I
am about to reveal certain singular circumstances attending the
captivity of some, and the equally curious embarrass<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span>ment in
which others will find themselves on returning to their homes,
I am persuaded that you will not be unthankful for the amusement
I have provided." "Certainly not," replied the Student;
"you put another face upon the matter; and you will afford me
much pleasure by your promised revelations."</p>
<p>During this discussion, loud shouts were suddenly heard
from the populace as they beheld the approaching captives,
who marched two by two, in their slaves' dresses, each bearing
his chain upon his shoulders. They were preceded by a considerable
number of monks of the order of Mercy, who had
been to meet them, and who rode on mules caparisoned in
black serge, as if they headed a funeral: one of these good
fathers carried the standard of Redemption. The younger
captives came first; the more aged followed; and the procession
was closed by an aged monk of the same order as the
first, who, mounted on a diminutive steed, had all the air of
a prophet: this was the chief of the missionary expedition. To
him every eye was attracted, as much by his excessive gravity,
as by a long white beard which flowed down his bosom, and
gave to the features of this Moses of the Spaniards a venerable
aspect, lighted as they were by a heartfelt joy at having been
the instrument of restoring so many of his Christian brethren to
their country.</p>
<p>"The captives whom you see," commenced the Cripple, "are
not all equally rejoiced at their restoration to liberty. If there
be some whose hearts beat with pleasure at the thought that
they are about to see once more their dearest friends, there are
others not a little fearful that, during the time they have been
estranged from their families, events may have occurred which
will bring tortures to their minds more cruel than the most
refined of slavery itself.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 266px;">
<img src="images/ch19pic01.png" width="266" height="164" alt="The procession" />
</div>
<p>"For instance, the two who first approach are in the latter
category. The one, a native of the little town of Velilla in
Aragon, after having passed ten years in bondage with the
Turk, without once hearing of his much-loved wife, comes
home to find her bound again in wedlock, and the mother of
five little ones who can claim no kin with him. The other, son
of a wool-merchant of Segovia, was carried off by a corsair
nearly twenty years ago: he returns with a lively apprehension
that matters have gravely changed during that time with his
family, and he will find himself a prophet in his loss. His
father and mother are dead; and his brothers, who shared
their wealth, have dissipated it foolishly enough."</p>
<p>"My attention is rivetted," exclaimed the Student, "upon a
slave whom, by his looks, I judge to be delighted that he is no
longer exposed to the seducing influence of the bastinado."
"The captive whom you speak of," replied the Devil,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span> "has
good reason to rejoice at his deliverance: he has learnt, since
his return, that an aunt to whom he is sole heir has just been
released from her troubles, and that he is consequently about
to enjoy the free use of her brilliant fortune. This it is which
now occupies his thoughts so agreeably, and gives to his
appearance that air of satisfaction which you remark.</p>
<p>"How all unlike is he to the unhappy cavalier who walks
beside him; the tortures of suspense fill his bosom incessantly:
I will tell you on what they impend. When he was taken by a
pirate of Algiers, as he was passing into Italy from Spain, he
loved a maiden and by her was loved: he dreads lest, while
he was in chains, his fair one's constancy may have failed
her." "Has he been long a slave then?" asked Zambullo.
"Eighteen months," replied Asmodeus. "Pooh!" exclaimed
Leandro Perez, "I fancy our gallant is a prey to causeless fear;
he has hardly put his mistress's fidelity to such a test as to
have need for great alarm." "There you are mistaken," replied
the Cripple; "his princess no sooner heard that he was captive
to the Moor, than she hastened to provide herself with a more
fortunate lover.</p>
<p>"Would you credit now," continued the Demon, "that the
man who follows immediately behind the two we have been
speaking of, and whom that thick and sandy beard so horribly
disfigures, was once a very handsome man? Nothing, however,
can be more certain; and you see, in that bent and hideous
figure, the hero of a story remarkable enough to induce me to
relate it to you.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 178px;">
<img src="images/ch19pic02.png" width="178" height="228" alt="Fabricio" />
</div>
<p>"His name is Fabricio, and he was hardly fifteen years of age
when his father, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span>a wealthy cultivator of Cinquello, a large village
of the kingdom of Leon, died. He lost his mother shortly afterwards;
so that, being an only son, he became thus early the
master of a considerable property, the management of which was
confided to an uncle, who happened to be honest. Fabricio
completed his studies at Salamanca, where he had been previously
placed; he then particularly devoted himself to the noble
accomplishments of riding and fencing; in a word, he neglected
nothing which might concur to render him worthy the sweet regards
of Donna Hippolita, sister of a vegetating signor, whose
cottage was about a couple of gun-shots from Cinquello.</p>
<p>"This lady was beautiful in the extreme, and about the age
of Fabricio, who, having seen her from his infancy, had, to
speak vulgarly, sucked in with his mother's milk the love which
occupied his soul in manhood. Hippolita, on her side, c<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span>ould
not help perceiving that Fabricio was not ill-made; but, knowing
him to be the son of a husbandman, she had never deigned
to look on him with attention. Her pride was only equalled
by her loveliness, and by the haughty bearing of her brother,
Don Thomaso de Xaral, who was probably unsurpassed, even
in Spain, for his lordly want of money, and his beggarly pride.</p>
<p>"This inflated country gentleman lived in a small house
which he dignified by the name of castle, but which to speak
properly was a ruin, so little had the winds respected his nobility.
However, although his means did not enable him to
repair his mansion, and although he had hardly enough to sustain
himself, he must needs keep a valet to attend upon his
person; nay, he even kept a Moorish female to wait upon his
sister.</p>
<p>"It was a refreshing sight to witness, in the village, on Sundays
and at every festival, Don Thomaso habited in crimson
velvet, but sadly faded, and a little hat, overshadowed with an
ancient plume of yellow feathers, which were carefully enshrined,
like relics, on the common days of the year. Disporting this
frippery, which to him was proof apparent of his noble birth, he
would affect the grandee, and seemed to think that he amply repaid
the reverence that was offered to him when he condescended
to notice it by an approving smile. His fair sister was not less
vain than himself of the antiquity of her race; and she joined
to this folly that of such self-congratulation on her charms, that
she lived in the most perfect confidence that ere long some
noble signor would come to beg the honour of her hand.</p>
<p>"Such were the characters of Don Thomaso and the beauteous
Hippolita. Fabricio, aware of their foibles, and in order to insinuate
himself into the estimation of persons so exalted, lost
no opportunity of flattering their pride by the most r<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span>espectful
seeming; and so well did he manage, that the brother and sister
at last were graciously pleased to allow him frequent occasions
for paying his homage to them. As he was as well informed of
their poverty as of their vanity, he was tempted every day to
make offer of his purse; and was only withheld from doing so
by the uncertainty as to which of their failings was the greater:
nevertheless, his ingenious generosity found a way of relieving
the one without causing the other to blush. 'Signor,' said he
one day to Don Thomaso in private, 'I have a thousand ducats
which I would entrust in safe hands: have the kindness to take
care of them for me;—permit me to owe this obligation to
you.'</p>
<p>"I need hardly tell you that Xaral consented; but besides
being short of money, he had the very soul for a trustee. He
therefore made no scruple of taking charge of the sum proposed;
and no sooner was it in his possession, than, without ceremony,
he employed a good part of it in putting his house in order, and
adding thereto sundry little conveniences. A new dress of
splendid light blue velvet was bought, and made at Salamanca;
and a green plume, also purchased there, came to snatch from
the olden plume of yellow the glory which had pertained to it
from time immemorial, of adorning the noble front of Don
Thomaso. The lovely Hippolita had also her compliment,
and was entirely new-rigged. And thus did Xaral quickly
melt the ducats which had been confided to him, not once
reflecting that they did not belong to him, or that he would
never be able to restore them. Indeed, he would not have
scrupled thus to use them, had such extraordinary thoughts
occurred to him; he would have felt that it was perfectly
proper a plebeian should pay for the patronage of so noble a
person as himself.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span></p>
<p>"Fabricio had foreseen all this; but had at the same time
flattered himself, that out of love for his money, if not for himself,
Don Thomaso would live with him on terms of greater intimacy;
that Hippolita by degrees would become accustomed
to his attentions, and finally pardon the audacity which had inspired
him to elevate his thoughts to her. In effect, his intercourse
with them certainly increased, and they displayed for
him a consideration that he had never before appeared to deserve:
a rich man is ever appreciated by the great, when he will
consent to act for them the part of the wolf to Romulus and
Remus. Xaral and his sister, who until now had nothing
known of riches but the name, had no sooner tasted the intoxicating
draught, than they deemed Fabricio, the source
whence it flowed, an object not to be neglected; and they
therefore exhibited towards him such marks of respect, and
almost affection, as made him think his money well bestowed.
He was soon convinced that he had really won
upon them; and that wisely reflecting it is the lot of the
proudest signors to be obliged, in order to sustain their pretensions,
to graft their noble scions on the stocks of the
fortunate vulgar, they now looked on him without disdain.
With this notion, which flattered his own self-love, Fabricio
resolved to propose for Hippolita to her brother.</p>
<p>"On the first favourable opportunity which offered to speak
with Don Thomaso on the subject, he informed him that he
had dared aspire to the honour of becoming his brother-in-law;
and that, as the price of such concession, not only would he
abandon all claim to the money deposited in his hands, but
that he would add to it a present of a thousand pistoles. The
haughty Xaral coloured at this proposition, which awakened his
slumbering pride; and in the excitation of the moment, could
scarcely refrain from displaying the utter contempt in which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span> he
held the son of an industrious father. But, however insulted he
felt at the temerity of Fabricio, he constrained himself; and, as
respectfully as his nature would permit, replied that in a matter
of such importance he could not at once determine; that he
must consult Hippolita, and that it would even be necessary to
summon a conclave of his noble relatives thereupon.</p>
<p>"With this answer he dismissed the gallant, and forthwith
convoked a diet composed of certain hidalgos of his neighbourhood,
with whom he claimed affinity, and who, like himself,
were all infected with demophobia. With these he consulted,
not as to whether they were of opinion that he should bestow
his sister upon Fabricio, but on the most proper steps to be
adopted in order sufficiently to punish the insolent young man,
who, forgetful of the meanness of his origin, had dared pretend
to the hand of a lady of the rank of Hippolita.</p>
<p>"As soon as he had exposed to the assembly this presumptuous
demand,—as he mentioned the name of Fabricio,
and uttered the words, 'Son of a husbandman,'—you should
have seen how the eyes of all the nobles lighted up with fury.
Each of them vomited fire and flame against the audacious
groundling; and with one voice they all insisted, that his
death beneath the cudgels of their domestics alone could
expiate the vile affront he had offered to their family by the
proposal of so scandalous an union. However, on mature
consideration, the offended members of the diet agreed to
spare the culprit's life; but, in order to teach him that first
and far most useful knowledge—of himself, they resolved to
play him such a trick as he should have reason to remember
while he lived.</p>
<p>"Various were the schemes proposed: the one on which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span>
they at last decided was as follows. Hippolita was to feign a
sensibility for the passion of Fabricio; and, under pretence of
consoling her unhappy lover for the refusal which Don Thomaso
would have given to his proposal for her hand, she was to
make an assignation for some particular evening to receive
him at the castle; where, at the moment of his introduction by
the Moorish female, the friends of the signor would surprise
him with the waiting-maid, and compel him to espouse her.</p>
<p>"The sister of Xaral at first inclined to favour this piece of
rascality; she even joined in thinking that her reputation
demanded of her to consider as an insult the addresses of a
person in a station so inferior to her own. But these haughty
feelings soon yielded to others more gentle, prompted by pity;
or rather, love suddenly vanquished all pride of heart in the
bosom of Hippolita.</p>
<p>"From that moment, she looked on all things with a different
eye. The obscure origin of Fabricio now appeared to her
more than compensated by a nobility of disposition; and she
perceived in him but a cavalier worthy of her tenderest affection.
Remark again, Signor Student, and with all due admiration,
how prodigious are the changes which this passion can
effect: the very girl who yesterday imagined that a monarch's
heir scarce merited the honour of possessing her, to-day is all
enamoured of a ploughman's son, and is flattered by pretensions
which before she had regarded as disgraceful.</p>
<p>Far therefore from assisting her brother in his purposed revenge,
and yielding to the new-born passion which now reigned
supreme within her soul, Hippolita entered into secret correspondence
with Fabricio, by means of her Moorish attendant,
who frequently of an evening introduced the gallant into the
cottage. Thus baffled in his design, Don Thomaso soon
became suspicious of the truth; and watching his siste<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span>r, he
was convinced by his own eyes that, instead of fulfilling the
wishes of her relations, she had betrayed them.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 189px;">
<img src="images/ch19pic03.png" width="189" height="200" alt="Hippolita's Moorish servant admits Fabricio" />
</div>
<p>"He instantly informed two of his cousins of the discovery
he had made: 'Vengeance! Don Thomaso, vengeance!' they
exclaimed, infuriate at such baseness in one of their illustrious
race. Xaral, who did not require urging to exact satisfaction
for an indignity of this nature, replied, with true Spanish modesty,
'that they should find he knew well how to use his sword when
its employment was called for to avenge his honour;' and he
entreated them to come to his house on a particular night.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 265px;">
<img src="images/ch19pic04.png" width="265" height="210" alt="Don Thomaso and his cousins surprise Fabricio and Hippolita" />
</div>
<p>"They came at the appointed time, and were secretly received
and concealed in a small room by Don Thomaso; who left
them, saying that he would return the instant the lover entered
his doors, should he think fit to come at all that evening. This
did not fail to happen; the unlucky stars of our lovers had
decreed that they should choose that very night for their
meeting.</p>
<p>"Don Fabricio was already with his dear Hippolita, listening
to and repeating for the hundredth time those sweet avowals
which make up the dialogue of lovers, but which, though spoken
from eternity, have still the charm of novelty, when they were
disagreeably interrupted by the cavaliers who waited to surprise
them. Don Thomaso and his cousins, with all the courage of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span>
three against one, rushed upon Fabricio, who had scarcely time
to draw in his defence; but perceiving at once that their object
was to assassinate him, he fought with a courage which makes
one equal to three; he wounded all his assailants, and exerting
the skill he had acquired at Salamanca, managed to keep them
at his sword's point till he had gained the door, when he made
off at full speed.</p>
<p>"Upon this, Xaral, maddened with rage at beholding his
enemy escape him, after having with impunity dishonoured
his house, turned all his fury against the unfortunate Hippolita,
and plunged his sword into her heart. After which his two
relatives returned to their homes, extremely mortified at the
bad success of their plot, and with no other consolation than
their wounds. There we will leave them," continued Asmodeus.
"When we have passed in review the other captives, I
will finish the history of this one. I will relate to you how,
after justice, or rather the law, had possessed itself of his effects
on account of this mournful event, the pirates seized his person,
with about as good reason, when he happened to be making a
voyage."</p>
<p>"While you were telling me this story of love and pride,"
said Don Cleophas, "I observed a young man whose countenance
bespeaks such sorrow at his heart, that I wonder I did
not interrupt you to inquire its cause." "You will lose nothing
by your discretion," replied the Demon; "I can tell you now
all you desire to know. The captive whose dejection attracted
your notice, is a youth of family from Valladolid. Two years
was he in slavery, but with a patron who possessed a very
pretty wife. The lady looked with favour on the slave, and
the slave, as in duty bound, repaid the lady's favours with
interest. The patron, becoming suspicious as to the nature<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span>
of his slave's labours, hastened to sell the Christian to the
brothers of the Redemption, lest he should be irreligiously
employed in the propagation of Mahometanism. The tender
Castilian, ever since, has done nothing but weep for the loss of
his patroness; liberty itself cannot console him."</p>
<p>"An old man of good appearance attracts my attention
there," said Leandro Perez; "who, and what, is he?" The
Devil replied: "He is a barber, of Guipuscoa, who is about to
return to Biscay after a captivity of forty years. When he fell
into the hands of a corsair, in going from Valencia to the island
of Sardinia, he had a wife, two sons, and a daughter. Of all
these, one son alone remains; and he, more lucky than his
father, has been to Peru, whence he has safely returned with
immense wealth to his native province, in which he has recently
purchased two handsome estates." "What pleasure!" exclaimed
the Student, "what delight awaits this happy son, to
behold again his long-lost parent, and to be enabled to render
his declining years peaceful and agreeable!"</p>
<p>"You," replied the Cripple, "speak like a child whom tenderness
and duty prompt; the son of the Biscayan barber is of
a sterner mould: the unlooked-for coming of his sire to him
will bring more grief than joy. Instead of welcoming him to
his mansion at Guipuscoa, and sparing nothing to mark the
bliss he feels at pressing him once more to his bosom, he will
probably be filial enough to make him steward of one of his
estates.</p>
<p>"Behind this captive, whose good looks you admire so
much, is another as like an old baboon as are two drops of
water to each other: he is a little Aragonese physician. He
has not <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span>been a fortnight in Algiers; for as soon as the Turks
knew what was his profession, they resolved, rather than suffer
him to remain among them, to place him without ransom in
the hands of the fathers of Mercy, who would certainly never
have purchased him, and who bring him back with compunction
to Spain.</p>
<p>"You who feel so sensibly the woes of others, ah! how
would you grieve for that other slave, he who wears upon his
head that little cap of brown cloth, did you but know the ills
he has endured during twelve years, in the house of an English
renegade, his patron." "And who is this unhappy captive?"
asked Zambullo. "He is a cordelier of Navarre," replied the
Demon. "I must own, however, that for myself, I rejoice that
he has suffered so severely; since, by his eternal preaching, he
has prevented more than a hundred Christian slaves from
adopting the turban."</p>
<p>"Well! to imitate your frankness," replied Don Cleophas, "I
must say that I am really afflicted to think that this good father
should have been so long at the mercy of the barbarian." "As
to that," replied Asmodeus, "you are as unwise to regret it, as
I to rejoice. The good monk has turned his dozen years'
captivity to so good account, that he will find his advantage in
having passed that time in suffering instead of in his cell, where
he would have striven with temptations that he would not at
all times have vanquished."</p>
<p>"The first captive after the monks," said Leandro Perez, "has
a most complacent air for a man who returns from slavery: he
excites my curiosity to know his history." "You anticipate
me," replied the Cripple; "I was just about to tell you all about
him. You see in him, a citizen of Salamanca, an unfortunate
father, a mortal rendered insensible to misfortune by the weight
of those he has experienced. I am tempted to relate to you
the painful details of his life, and to leave the rest of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span>the captives
to their fates; besides, there is scarcely another whose
adventures are worth the trouble of telling."</p>
<p>The Student, who began to tire of this sombre procession,
stated that he asked for nothing better; whereupon, the Devil
began the history contained in the following chapter.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 138px;">
<img src="images/ch19tailpiece.png" width="138" height="120" alt="Tailpiece of the Aragonese physician and the cordelier of Navarre" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XX.</h5>
<h4>OF THE LAST HISTORY RELATED BY ASMODEUS: HOW, WHILE CONCLUDING
IT, HE WAS SUDDENLY INTERRUPTED; AND OF THE
DISAGREEABLE MANNER, FOR THE WITTY DEMON, IN WHICH
HE AND DON CLEOPHAS WERE SEPARATED.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialp.png" width="75" height="77" alt="P" />
</div>
<p>"Pablos de Bahabon, son of an alcade of a
village in Old Castile, after having divided with
his sister and brother the small inheritance which
their father, although one of the most avaricious
of men, had left them, set out for Salamanca with the intention
of increasing the number of students in its university. He was
well made, not without wit, and was just entering upon his
twenty-third year.</p>
<p>"With a thousand ducats in his possession, and a disposition
fitted to get rid of them, it was not long before he was the talk
of the town. The young men, without exception, were eager
to cultivate his friendship; the strife, was who were to be included
in the joyous parties which Don Pablos gave every day.
I say Don Pablos, because he had assumed the Don, that he
might live on equal terms with the students whose nobility
would otherwise have demanded a formality in his intercourse
with them, anything but pleasant. So well did he love gaiety
and the good things of this world, and so badly did he manage
the only thing which can always command them,—his purse,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span>
that at the end of fifteen months he found it one morning
empty. He contrived, however, to get on for some time
longer, partly by credit and partly by borrowing; but he soon
found that these are resources which speedily fail when a man
has no other.</p>
<p>"This having come to pass, his friends perceiving that their
visits were anything but agreeable,—to themselves, they ceased
to call; and his creditors commenced paying him their respects,
with an assiduity which was anything but delightful to poor
Don Pablos. For although he assured the latter that he was
in daily expectation of receiving bills of exchange from his relations,
there were some who were uncivil enough to decline
waiting their arrival; and they were so sharp in their legal proceedings
that our hero was on the point of finishing his studies
in jail, when one day he met an acquaintance while walking on
the banks of the Tormes, who said to him: 'Signor Don
Pablos, beware! I warn you that an alguazil and his archers
are on the look-out for you, and they intend to pay you the
honour of a guard on your return to the city.'</p>
<p>"Bahabon, alarmed at this intended public attention to his
person, which suited so ill to the state of his private affairs, resolved
to shun this demonstration of respect, and instantly took
to flight and the road to Corita. In his anxiety for privacy, he
had not walked far before he turned off to plunge into a neighbouring
wood, in which he resolved to conceal himself until
night should lend her friendly shades to enable him to travel
more secure from observation. It was at that season of the
year when the trees are decked in their proudest apparel, and
he therefore chose the best dressed in the forest, that it might
spare a covering for him: into this he mounted, and arranged
himself upon a branch whose wavy ornaments shrouded him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span>
from sight.</p>
<p>"Feeling secure in his elevated seat, he by degrees soon lost
all fear of the too attentive alguazil; and as men usually make
the best reflections on their conduct when thought is too late
to avail them, he recalled all the follies he had committed, and
promised to himself, that if ever he again should be in fortune's
way, he would make a better use of her favours. Most especially
he vowed to be no more the dupe of seeming friends, who
lead young men into dissipation, and whose attachment finishes
with the last bottle.</p>
<p>"While thus occupied with the busy thoughts which come
like creditors into the distressed mind, night recalled him to
his situation. Disengaging himself from the sheltering leaves,
and shaking hands with the friendly branch, he was preparing
to descend, when, by as much light as the moon could throw
into the forest, he thought he could discern the figure of a man.
As he looked, his former fears returned: and he imagined it
must be the alguazil, who, having tracked his footsteps, was
seeking him in the wood. His fears redoubled when he saw
the man, after walking round it two or three times, sit himself
down at the foot of the very tree in which he was."</p>
<p>Asmodeus interrupted the course of his narrative in this
place: "Signor Don Cleophas," said he, "permit me to enjoy
for a while the perplexity I occasion in your mind at this
moment. You are desperately anxious to know now, who can
this mortal be that comes so inopportunely, and what can have
brought him thither. Well, that is what you shall learn: I will
not abuse your patience.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 216px;">
<img src="images/ch20pic01.png" width="216" height="293" alt="Bahabon watches the bag being buried" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p>
<p>"After the man had seated himself at the foot of the tree,
whose thick foliage almost hid him from the sight of Don
Pablos, he reposed for a few seconds, and then rose and began
digging the ground with a poniard. Having made a deep hole,
and placed therein a leathern bag, he refilled it, covered it over
carefully with the moss-grown turf he had removed, and then
retired. Bahabon, who had strained his eyes to watch these
operations, and whose fears were changed to anxious joy during
their progress, scarcely waited until the man was out of si<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span>ght
ere he descended from his hiding-place to disinter the sack, in
which he doubted not to find a good store of silver or of gold.
His knife was sufficient for the purpose; but, had he wanted
that, he felt such ardour for the work, that he would have
penetrated with his nails into the bowels of the earth.</p>
<p>"The instant that he had the bag in his possession, just
handling it sufficiently to feel convinced that it contained good
sounding coin, he hastened to quit the wood with his prey, less
fearing to meet the alguazil in his altered state, than the man
to whom the bag of right belonged. Intoxicated with delight
at having made so good a stroke, our student walked lightly all
the night, without caring whither he went, or feeling in the least
degree incommoded with his burden. But, as day broke, he
stopped under some trees near the village of Molorido, less, in
truth, to repose, than to satisfy at last the curiosity which
burned within him to know what it was indeed the sack enclosed.
Untying it with that agreeable trembling which you
experience at the moment you are about to enjoy an anticipated
but unknown pleasure, he found therein honest double-pistoles,
and, to his unspeakable delight, counted no less of these than
two hundred and fifty.</p>
<p>"After having contemplated them for some time with a
voluptuous eagerness, he began seriously to reflect on what he
ought to do; and having made up his mind, he stowed away
the doubloons in his pockets, threw the bag into a ditch, and
repaired to Molorido. He entered the first decent inn; and
then, while they were preparing his breakfast, he hired a mule,
upon which he returned the same day to Salamanca.</p>
<p>"He clearly perceived, by the surprise which his acquaintances
displayed at seeing him again, that they were in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span>
secret of his sudden evasion; but he had his story by heart.
He stated that, being short of money, and not receiving it
from home, although he had written twenty times to relate his
pressing need, he had determined to go for it himself, and that,
the evening previous, as he entered Molorido, he had met his
steward with the needful, so that he was now in a situation to
undeceive all those who had decreed him a man of straw. He
added, that he intended to convince his creditors that they
were wrong in distressing an honest man who would have long
since satisfied their claims, had his steward been more punctual
in the remittance of his rents.</p>
<p>"In reality, on the following day he called a meeting of his
creditors, and paid them all to the last maravedi. No sooner
did the very friends who had abandoned him in poverty hear
of these extraordinary proceedings, than they quickly flocked
around him, to flatter him by their homage, hoping to enjoy
themselves again at his expense; but he was not to be caught
a second time. Faithful to the vow he had made in the forest,
he treated them with disdain, and changing entirely his course
of life, he devoted himself to the study of the law with zeal and
assiduity.</p>
<p>"However, you will say, he was all this while conscientiously
expending double-pistoles not very honestly acquired. To this
I have no reply to make than that he did what nine-tenths
of the world are daily doing in similar circumstances. He
of course intended to make proper restitution at some future
time; that is, if he should chance to discover to whom the
doubloons belonged. In the meantime, tranquillizing himself
with the goodness of his intentions, he disposed of the money
without scruple, patiently awaiting this discovery, which nevertheless
he made before twelve months were over.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span></p>
<p>"About this time, it was reported in Salamanca that a citizen
of that town, one Ambrosio Piquillo, having gone to the neighbouring
wood to seek for a bag, filled with gold and silver
coin, which he had there deposited nearly a year before, had
turned up only the earth in which he had buried it, and that
this misfortune had reduced the poor man to beggary.</p>
<p>"I must say, in justice to Bahabon, that the secret reproaches
of his conscience were not made in vain. He ascertained
the dwelling of Ambrosio, whom he found in a wretched
chamber whose entire furniture consisted of a truckle-bed and
a single chair. 'My friend,' said he with admirable hypocrisy
as he entered, 'I have heard the public report of the cruel
accident which has befallen you, and, charity obliging us to
aid one another according to our means, I have come to bring
you a trifling assistance; but I should like to hear from yourself
the story of your misfortune.'</p>
<p>"'Signor cavalier,' replied Piquillo, 'I will relate it to you
in a few words. I had the misfortune to have a son who
robbed me. Discovering his dishonesty, and fearing that he
would help himself to a leathern sack in which there were two
hundred and fifty doubloons, I thought I could not do better
than bury them in the wood to which I had the imprudence
to take them. Since that unlucky day, my son has stripped
me of all else that I possessed, and he at last disappeared with
a woman whom he had carried off by force. Finding myself
thus reduced by the libertinage of my worthless child, or rather
by my misplaced indulgence for his faults, I determined on
recourse to the leathern bag; but alas! my only remaining
means of subsistence had been cruelly carried away.'</p>
<p>"As the poor man recounted his loss, his grief was renewed,
and his tears fell fast as he spoke, Don Pablos, affected <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span>at
beholding them, said to him: 'My dear Ambrosio, we must
console ourselves for all the crosses we encounter during life.
Your tears are useless; they cannot bring back your double-pistoles,
which, if some scoundrel has laid hands on them, are
indeed lost to you. But who knows? They may have fallen
into the possession of some worthy man, who, when he learns
that they belong to you, will hasten to restore them. You may
yet see them again: live at least in that hope; and, in the
meanwhile,' added he, giving him ten of his own doubloons,
'take these, and come to me in a week from this time.' He
then gave his name and address, and went out overwhelmed
with confusion at the benedictions heaped upon him by
Ambrosio, who could not find words to express his gratitude.
Such, for the most part, are your generous actions: you would
find little cause for admiration, could you but penetrate their
motives.</p>
<p>"At the week's end, Piquillo, mindful of what Don Pablos
had said to him, went to his house. Bahabon received him
kindly, and said to him: 'My friend, from the excellent
character I everywhere hear of you, I have resolved to contribute
all in my power to set you on your feet again: my
interest and my purse shall not be wanting to effect this. As
a beginning in the business,' he continued, 'what think you I
have already done? I am intimate with several persons as
much distinguished by their charity as their station: these I
have sought; and I have so effectually inspired them with
compassion for your situation, that I have collected from them
two hundred crowns, which I am about to give you.' As he
finished, he went into his cabinet, whence he returned in a
moment with a linen bag, in which he had placed this sum
in silver, and not in doubloons, for fear that the citizen, on
receiving so many double-pistoles, should begin to suspect the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span>
truth; whereas, by this piece of management, he effectually
secured his object, which was to make restitution in such a
manner as might conciliate his reputation with his conscience.</p>
<p>"Ambrosio, far from thinking that these crowns were a
portion of his money restored, took them, in good faith, as
the product of a collection made on his behalf; and, after
repeatedly thanking Don Pablos for his kindness, he returned
to his habitation, grateful to Heaven for having created a
cavalier who took so much interest in his misfortunes.</p>
<p>"On the following day he met one of his friends, who was
in no better plight than himself, and who said to him: 'I leave
Salamanca to-morrow, to set out for Cadiz, where I intend to
embark in a vessel bound for New Spain. I have no great
reason to be contented with my position here, and my heart
tells me I shall be more fortunate in Mexico. If you will take
my advice, you will go with me; that is, if you have but a
hundred crowns.' 'I should not have much trouble to find
two hundred,' replied Piquillo; 'and I would undertake this
voyage willingly, were I sure to gain a living in the Indies.'
Thereupon, his friend boasted of the fertility of New Spain,
and represented to him so many ways of there enriching himself,
that Ambrosio, yielding to his powers of persuasion, now
thought of nothing but the necessary preparations for setting
out with his friend to Cadiz. But before he left Salamanca,
he took care to address a letter to Bahabon, informing him
that, finding a promising opportunity of going to the Indies,
he was anxious to profit by it, in order to see whether Fortune
could be induced to smile more kindly on him in another
country than in his own; that he took the liberty of stating
this to him, assuring him that he should gratefully preserve
during life the remembrance of his goodness.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span></p>
<p>"The departure of Ambrosio somewhat annoyed Don
Pablos, as it disconcerted the plan he had formed for discharging
the debt he owed him. But, when he reflected
that the poor citizen might in a few years return to Salamanca,
he became gradually reconciled to what had happened,
and applied himself more diligently than ever to
master the complications of civil and ecclesiastical legalities.
So great was the progress he made, as much by the powers
of his mind and its aptitude for his profession, as by the application
I have spoken of, that he became a shining light in the
university, of which he was ultimately chosen rector. In this
position he was not contented to sustain its dignity by the extent
and solidity of his scientific acquirements; he searched so
deeply into his own heart, that he acquired all those habits of
virtue which constitute a man of worth.</p>
<p>"During his rectorship, he learned that in one of the prisons
of Salamanca there was a young man accused of rape. On
hearing this, he remembered that Piquillo's son had carried off
a woman by force. He therefore made inquiries as to this
prisoner, and, finding that it was indeed the son of Ambrosio,
he generously undertook his defence. What deserves most to
be admired in the science of the law, Signor Student, is, that
it furnishes arms for offence and defence equally; and as our
rector was an adroit fencer with these deadly weapons, he used
them to good effect on this occasion in favour of the accused.
It is true, that he joined to his legal skill the interest of his
friends, and the most pressing solicitation, which, probably, as
in most cases, did more than all the rest.</p>
<p>"The guilty youth, therefore, came out of this affair whiter
than snow. On going to thank his liberator, the latter said to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span>
him: 'It is out of respect for your father that I have rendered
you this service. I love him; and to give you a further proof
of my affection for him, if you will live in this town, and here
lead the life of an honest man, I will take care of your welfare;
if, on the contrary, you desire, like Ambrosio, to seek your fortune
in the Indies, you may reckon on fifty pistoles for your outfit:
I present them to you.' The young Piquillo replied: 'Since
I am honoured by the protection of your lordship, I should be
wrong to quit a place where I enjoy so great an advantage. I
will not leave Salamanca, and I promise you solemnly that
I will conduct myself to your satisfaction.' On this assurance,
the rector placed in his hands twenty pistoles, saying:
'Take this, my friend; embrace some honest profession; employ
your time well, and rely on it that I will not abandon
you.'</p>
<p>"Two months afterwards, it happened that the young Piquillo,
who from time to time paid his respects to Don Pablos, one day
appeared before him in tears. 'What ails you?' asked Bahabon.
'Signor,' replied the son of Ambrosio, 'I have just heard news
which cuts me to the soul. My father has been taken by a corsair
of Algiers, and is at this moment in chains: an old Salamancan,
lately returned from Barbary, where he was ten years
in captivity, and whom the fathers of Mercy have redeemed,
told me not an hour since that he had left Ambrosio in slavery.
Alas!' he added, striking his breast and tearing his hair, 'wretch
that I am! it was my infamous behaviour which reduced my
father to the necessity of burying his money, and afterwards
to leave his country! It is I who have delivered him to the
barbarian who loads him with fetters. Ah! Signor Don Pablos,
why did you shield me from the vengeance of the law? Since
you love my father, you should have avenged him, and have
suffered me to expiate, by an ignominious death, the crime o<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span>f
having caused all his misfortunes.'</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 264px;">
<img src="images/ch20pic02.png" width="264" height="193" alt="Piquillo's son before Bahabon" />
</div>
<p>"These exclamations, evidently betokening an erring mind's
return to virtue, together with the natural expressions of the
young Piquillo's sincere grief, greatly affected the rector. 'My
child,' he said to him, 'I see with pleasure that you repent of
your past transgressions. Dry up your tears: it is enough for
me to know what has become of Ambrosio to give you assurance
of beholding him again. His deliverance depends but on an
easy ransom, which I shall cheerfully provide; and how great
soever may have been the sufferings he has endured, I feel persuaded
that on his return, to find in you a son restored to virtue,
and filled with tenderness for him, he will not complain of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span>the
rigour of his destiny.'</p>
<p>"Don Pablos, by this assurance, dismissed the son of Ambrosio
with a lightened heart; and, a few days afterwards, he
set out for Madrid. On his arrival in this capital, he placed in
the hands of the fathers of Mercy a purse containing a hundred
pistoles, to which was attached a label bearing these words:
'This sum is given to the fathers of the Redemption, for the
ransom of a poor citizen of Salamanca, named Ambrosio Piquillo,
now captive in Algiers.' The good monks, in their recent voyage,
acting in pursuance of the directions of the rector, did not
fail to purchase Ambrosio, and you beheld him in that slave
whose tranquil air excited your attention."</p>
<p>"In my opinion," said Don Cleophas, "Bahabon has worthily
repaid the debt he owed to this luckless citizen." "Don
Pablos, however," replied Asmodeus, "thinks differently. He
will not be contented until he has restored to him both principal
and interest; the delicacy of his conscience even extends so far
as to scruple at his retention of the wealth he has gained since
he has become rector of the university; and when he sees Ambrosio,
he intends saying to him: 'Ambrosio, my friend, do not
regard me as your benefactor; you behold in me the scoundrel
who disinterred the money you had buried in the wood. It is
not enough that I restore to you the doubloons I robbed you
of, since by their means it is that I have raised myself to the
station I now enjoy: all that I possess belongs to you; I will
retain so much alone as you shall please to——'" Asmodeus
suddenly stopped in his relation; a trembling seized him as
he spoke, and an unearthly paleness overspread his visage.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 232px;">
<img src="images/ch20pic03.png" width="232" height="279" alt="The magician discovers Asmodeus's absence" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_407" id="Page_407">[Pg 407]</a></span></p>
<p>"Why, what's the matter now?" exclaimed the Student;
"what wonderful emotion agitates you thus, and chains your
willing tongue?" "Ah! Signor Leandro," answered the
Demon with tremulous voice, "what misery for me! The
magician who kept me prisoned in my bottle, has discovered
that I am absent without leave; and prepares e'en now such
mighty spiritings, to call me back to his laboratory, as I must
fain obey." "Alas!" exclaimed Zambullo, quite affected, "I
am mortified beyond expression! What a loss am I abo<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span>ut
to suffer! Must we, then, my dear Asmodeus, separate for
ever?"</p>
<p>"I trust not," replied the Devil. "The magician may require
some office of my ministry; and if I have the fortune to
assist him in his projects, perhaps, out of gratitude, he may
restore me to liberty. Should that arrive, as I hope it may, rely
on my rejoining you at once; on condition, however, that you
reveal not to mortal ears what has this night passed between us.
Should you be weak enough to confide this to any one, I warn
you," continued Asmodeus emphatically, "that you will never
see me more.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 154px;">
<img src="images/ch20pic04.png" width="154" height="134" alt="Asmodeus embraces Zambullo" />
</div>
<p>"I have one consolation in leaving you," he resumed, "which
is, that at least I have made your fortune. You will marry the
lovely Seraphina, into whose bosom it has been my business to
instil a doting passion for your lordship. The Signor Don Pedro
de Escolano, too, has made up his mind to bestow her hand
upon you: and do you take care not to let so splendid a gift
escape your own. But, mercy on me!" he concluded, "I hear
already the potent master who constrains me; all Hell resound<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span>s
with the echoes of the fearful words pronounced by this redoubtable
magician: I dare not stay a moment longer. Farewell, my
dear Zambullo! We may meet again." As he ceased, he embraced
Don Cleophas, and, after having dropped the Student
in his own apartment on his way to the laboratory, disappeared.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 100px;">
<img src="images/tailpiecefoliate.png" width="100" height="62" alt="foliate cul-de-lampe" />
</div>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 320px;">
<img src="images/headpiecefan.png" width="320" height="178" alt="Fan headpiece" />
</div>
<h5>CHAPTER XXI.</h5>
<h4>OF THE DOINGS OF DON CLEOPHAS AFTER ASMODEUS HAD LEFT
HIM; AND OF THE MODE IN WHICH THE AUTHOR OF THIS
WORK HAS THOUGHT FIT TO END IT.</h4>
<div class="figleft" style="width: 75px;">
<img src="images/decinitialu.png" width="75" height="78" alt="U" />
</div>
<p>Upon the retreat of Asmodeus, the Student, feeling
fatigued at having passed all the night upon his
legs, and by the extraordinary bustle in which he
had been occupied, undressed himself and went
to bed. Agitated as his mind may be supposed to have been,
it is no wonder that he lay for some time restless; but at last,
paying with compound interest to Morpheus the tribute which
all mortals owe to his sombre majesty, he fell into a deathlike
sleep, in which he passed the whole of that day and the following
night.</p>
<p>Twenty-four hours had he been thus lost to the world, when
Don Luis de Lujana, a young cavalier whom he numbered
among his friends, entered his chamber, singing out lustily,
"Hollo! Signor Don Cleophas, get up with you!" At this
salutation, Zambullo awoke. "Are you aware," said Don Luis
to him, "that you have been in bed since yesterday morning?"
"Impossible!" exclaimed Leandro. "Not the less true for
that," replied his friend; "twice have you slept the clock's dull
round. All the inmates of the house assure me of this fact."</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span></p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 262px;">
<img src="images/ch21pic01.png" width="262" height="146" alt="Zambullo awakened by his friend" />
</div>
<p>The Student, astonished at the trance from which he emerged,
feared at first that his adventures with Asmodeus were but an
illusion. He could not, however, persist in this belief; and when
he recalled to himself certain circumstances of his intercourse
with the Demon, he soon ceased to doubt of its reality. But,
to make assurance doubly sure, he rose, dressed himself quickly,
and went out with Don Luis, whom he took, without saying why,
in the direction of the Gate of the Sun. Arrived there, and
perceiving the mansion of Don Pedro almost reduced to ashes,
Don Cleophas feigned surprise. "What do I behold?" he
cried. "What dreadful ravages has fire made here! To
whom did this unlucky house belong, and when was it thus
consumed?"</p>
<p>Don Luis de Lujana, having replied to these two questions,
thus continued: "This fire is less spoken of in the town on
account of the great damage it has done, than for a circumstance
which atte<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span>nded it, and of which I will tell you. The
Signor Don Pedro de Escolano has an only daughter, who is
lovely as the day: they say that she was in a room all filled
with fire and smoke, in which it seemed certain she must
perish; but that nevertheless her life was saved by a youthful
cavalier, whose name I have not heard;—it forms the subject
of conversation throughout Madrid. The young man's
daring is lauded to the skies; and it is believed that, as a
reward for his success, however humble my gentleman may
be, he may well hope to gain a life interest in the daughter of
the Don."</p>
<p>Leandro Perez listened to Don Luis without appearing to
take the slightest interest in what he heard; then getting rid
of his friend, under some specious pretext, he gained the
Prado, where, seating himself beneath a tree, he was soon
plunged in a profound reverie. The Devil first came flitting
through his mind. "Ah! my dear Asmodeus," he exclaimed,
"I cannot too much regret you. You, in a moment, would
have borne me round the world; and, with you, should I have
journeyed without any of the usual devilries of travelling:
gentle spirit, you are a loss indeed! But," he added a moment
afterwards, "my loss, perhaps, is not quite irreparable: why
should I despair of seeing the Demon again? It may fall out,
as he himself suggested, that the magician will shortly restore
him to freedom and to me." As the Devil left his mind the
lady entered it; upon which he resolved at once to seek Don
Pedro in his temporary abode, moved principally by curiosity
to see the lovely Seraphina.</p>
<p>As soon as he appeared before Don Pedro, that signor
rushed towards him with open arms, and embracing him,
exclaimed: "Welcome! generous cavalier, I began to feel
angry at your absence. 'What<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span>!' said I, 'Don Cleophas,
after the pressing invitation which I gave him to my house,
still to shun my sight! He ill indeed repays the impatience
of my soul to testify for him the friendship and esteem which
fill it.'"</p>
<p>Zambullo bowed respectfully at this kindly objurgation;
and, in order to excuse his seeming coldness, replied to the
old man, that he had feared to incommode him in the confusion
which the event of the preceding day must have
occasioned. "I cannot listen to such an excuse," resumed
Don Pedro; "you can never be unwelcome in a house
which but for your noble conduct would have been a house
of mourning indeed. But," he added, "follow me, if you
please; you have other thanks than mine to receive." And
taking the Student's hand, he led him to the apartment of
Seraphina.</p>
<p>"My child," said Don Pedro, as he entered the room, where
this lady was reposing from the noon-day heat, "I present
to you the gentleman who so courageously saved your life.
Show to him now, if you can, how deeply sensible you are of
the obligation he conferred, since the danger from which he
rescued you deprived you of the power to do so on the spot."
On this, the Signora Seraphina, opening a mouth of roses to
express the gratitude of her heart to Leandro Perez, paid him
in compliments so warm and graceful, as would charm my
readers as much as they did their blushing object, could I
repeat each honeyed word; but as they have not been faithfully
reported, I think it better to omit them altogether, than
chance to spoil them by my own imperfect knowledge in such
matters.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 233px;">
<img src="images/ch21pic02.png" width="233" height="277" alt="Seraphina thanks Zambullo" />
</div>
<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span></p>
<p>I will only say, that Don Cleophas thought he beheld and
listened to some bright divinity, and that he was at once the
victim of his eyes and ears. To say that he loved her, is a
thing of course; but, far from regarding the beauteous form
before him as a possession to which he might aspire, his heart
foreboded, despite all that the Demon had assured him,
that they would never pay at such a price the service they
imagined him to have rendered. As her charms increased
in their effect upon his mind, doubts, teasing doubts, came<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span>
threatening to destroy the infant Hope, first-cherished child of
Love.</p>
<p>What completed his mystification on the subject, was, that
Don Pedro during the lengthened conversation which ensued,
not once e'en touched upon the tender theme; but contented
himself with loading him with civilities, without hinting in the
slightest degree that he had any desire for the honour of his
relationship. Seraphina, too, as polite as her father, while she
did not fail in expressions of the deepest gratitude, dropped
no one word whose magic charm would serve Zambullo to
conjure visions of wedding joys; so that our Student left the
Signor Escolano and his daughter with Love as his companion,
but leaving Hope behind him.</p>
<p>"Asmodeus, my friend," he muttered as he walked along,
as though the Devil still were by his side, "when you assured
me that Don Pedro was disposed to adopt me as his son-in-law,
and that Seraphina burned with passion lighted in her
heart by you for me, it must have pleased you to make merry
at my cost, or else you know as little of the present time as of
that which is to come."</p>
<p>He now regretted that he had ever seen the dangerous
beauty; and looking on the love which filled his breast as an
unhappy passion which he ought to stifle in its infancy, he
resolved to set about it in earnest. He even reproached himself
for having desired to gain his point, supposing he had
found the father all disposed to give his daughter to him; and
represented to himself that it would have been disgraceful
to have owed his happiness to a deception like that he had
projected.</p>
<p>He was yet occupied with these reflections, when Don Pedro,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>
having sent to seek him on the following day, said to him:
"Signor Leandro Perez, it is time I proved to you by deeds,
that in obliging me you have not to do with one of those who
repay a benefit in courtly phrases. You saved my daughter:
and I wish that she, herself, should recompense the peril you
encountered for her sake. I have consulted Seraphina thereupon,
and find her ready to obey my will; nay, I can say with
pride, I recognized her for my child indeed when I proposed
that she should give her hand to him who saved her life. She
showed her joy by transports which at once convinced my soul
her generosity responds to mine. It is settled therefore that
you shall marry with my daughter."</p>
<p>After having spoken thus, the good Signor de Escolano, who
reasonably expected that Don Cleophas would have gone
down on his knees to thank him for so great a boon, was
sufficiently surprised to find him speechless, and displaying an
evident embarrassment. "Speak, Zambullo!" he at length
exclaimed. "What am I to infer from the confusion which my
proposition to you has occasioned? What possible objection
can you have? What! a private gentleman—although respectable—to
refuse an alliance which a noble would have courted!
Has then the honour of my house some blemish of which I am
ignorant?"</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 279px;">
<img src="images/ch21pic03.png" width="279" height="331" alt="The marriage of Zambullo and Seraphina" />
</div>
<p>"Signor," replied Leandro, "I know too well the space that
Heaven has set between us." "Why then," returned Don
Pedro, "seem you to care so little for a marriage which does
you so much honour? Confess! Don Cleophas, you love
some maiden, and have pledged your faith; and it is your
honour now which bars your road to fortune." "Had I," replied
the Student, "a mistress to whom my vows had bound my
future fate, it is not fortune that should bid me break them;
but it is no such tie that now compels me to reject<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span> your
proffered bounty. Honour, it is true, compels me to renounce
the glorious destiny that you would tempt me with; but, far
from seeking to abuse your kindness, I am about to un<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span>deceive
you to my own undoing. I am not the deliverer of
Seraphina."</p>
<p>"What do I hear!" exclaimed Don Pedro, in utter astonishment.
"It was not you who rescued Seraphina from the flames
which threatened her with instant death! It was not Don
Cleophas who had the courage to risk his life to save her!"
"No, Signor," replied Zambullo; "mortal man would have
vainly essayed to shield her from her fate; learn that it was a
devil to whom you owe your daughter's life."</p>
<p>These words only increased the astonishment of Don Pedro,
who, not conceiving that he was to understand them literally,
entreated the Student to explain himself. Upon which
Leandro, regardless of the loss of the Demon's friendship,
related all that had passed between Asmodeus and himself.
Having finished, the old man resumed, and said to Don
Cleophas: "The confidence you have reposed in me confirms
me in my design of giving you my daughter. You were her
chief deliverer. Had you not thus intreated the Devil whom
you speak of to snatch her from the death which menaced her,
it is clear that he would have suffered her to perish. It is you
then who preserved the life of Seraphina, which cannot be
better devoted than to the happiness of your own. You
deserve her; and I again offer you her hand with the half of
my estate."</p>
<p>Leandro Perez at these words, which removed all his conscientious
scruples, threw himself at the feet of Don Pedro to
thank him for his generosity. In a few weeks, the marriage
was celebrated with a magnificence suitable to the espousal of
the heir of the Signor de Escolano, and to the great satisfaction
of the relations of our Student, who was thus amply repaid for
the few hours' freedom he had procured for the Devi<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span>l on Two
Sticks.</p>
<div class="figcenter" style="width: 125px;">
<img src="images/ch21tailpiece.png" width="125" height="127" alt="Tailpiece of Asmodeus in his bottle" />
</div>
<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 51145 ***</div>
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