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diff --git a/old/67643-0.txt b/old/67643-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 4067f97..0000000 --- a/old/67643-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,5116 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Prosper Mérimée's Short Stories, by -Prosper Mérimée - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Prosper Mérimée's Short Stories - -Author: Prosper Mérimée - -Translator: George Burnham Ives - -Contributor: Grace King - -Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67643] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Thomas Frost, Tim Lindell and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPER MÉRIMÉE'S SHORT -STORIES *** - - - - - - -LITTLE FRENCH MASTERPIECES - -[Illustration: PROSPER MÉRIMÉE - -From an etching] - - - - - Prosper Mérimée’s - Short Stories - - Carmen - The Taking of the Redoubt - The Venus of Ille, etc. - - Translated by - George Burnham Ives - - With an Introduction by - Grace King - - G. P. Putnam’s Sons - New York and London - The Knickerbocker Press - 1909 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1903 - BY - G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS - - -The Knickerbocker Press, New York - - - - -Contents - - - PAGE - - PROSPER MÉRIMÉE ix - - CARMEN 3 - - THE TAKING OF THE REDOUBT 137 - - MATEO FALCONE 151 - - THE VENUS OF ILLE 181 - - - - -Introduction - -Prosper Mérimée - -(1803-1870) - - -The stories here presented are a selection from that brilliant -series which shine like a constellation in French literature of the -last century, blazoning Mérimée’s name across it. Each one has been -tested and judged by successive generations of readers and critics. -The authoritative appraisers of literary values, French and English, -have been pronouncing upon them from the time of their publication -until now, when they are still pronouncing upon them, as upon new -productions. Their interest, nevertheless, is still fresh, their -charm as attractive as ever, and inexplicable, as charm must be. The -prediction that was made in their day having been fulfilled so far, -it does not seem hazardous to renew it, at our own risk, that they may -be placed alongside of those classics of fiction that meet so natural -a soil in the human mind that we can no more foresee their ceasing to -give pleasure to readers in course of time than we can foresee the -flowers in the gardens ceasing to give pleasure to lovers of flowers. - -_Carmen_, with which the book begins, was the last one written of the -series. It might, however, be said to antedate them all, for the first -impulsive, perhaps instinctive, love of Mérimée’s imagination was for -the passionate drama of Spain, and his first production, _The Plays of -Clara Gazul_, was so vivid an imitation of it that it mystified the -critics of the time, who had yet to learn the extreme susceptibility of -Mérimée’s mind to exotic influences; a susceptibility that the author -indulged, if he did not foster, throughout life. - -It was not until 1830 (after the publication of _Mateo Falcone_ and -_The Taking of the Redoubt_) that Mérimée saw Spain with the eyes -of his body, and became naturalised in that part of it, that, as he -describes it, “was bounded on the north by a _gitana_ and on the south -by a carbine,” whose patois he spoke fluently, in whose _ventas_ he -was at home, where he confesses to have committed a thousand follies. -In his letters addressed from Madrid and Valencia, during this first -voyage to Spain, those who are curious about such questions can read -the account of Mérimée’s introduction to Carmen,--that is, to José -Maria, the contrabandist and bandit, and to the toreador. As for -Carmen herself, “that servant of the devil,” as José Maria describes -her only too well, although she does not figure in the letters, we may -infer that she did in some of the “thousand follies.” The story was -not, however, written until fifteen years later than this, after many -subsequent visits to its birthplace. A postscriptum, dated 1842, is -attached to the letters, giving an account of the death of the toreador -and of José Maria. - -Mérimée had so long before this story proved himself the most -exquisite master, in his day, of the art of simplicity and naturalness -in writing, that he would seem to have left no farther room to himself -for advance in perfection, no margin for additional praise for this his -last story; and yet it has a quality of its own that distinguishes it -from every preceding one. - -“Señor,” said José Maria, “one becomes a rascal without thinking of it; -a pretty girl steals your wits, you fight for her, an accident happens, -you have to live in the mountains, and from a smuggler you become a -robber before you know it.” - -This is the simplicity and naturalness, not of Mérimée, but of José -Maria himself; and the story that follows shows absolutely no other -author than the condemned bandit. There is no consciousness in reading -it of the perfection that mars the very perfection of _Colomba_, nor -suspicion of premeditated pathos as in the supremely pathetic _Arsène -Guillot_. Form and pathos are no more thought of by the author than by -José Maria himself. And, therefore, as Taine says, “dissertations on -primitive and savage instinct, learned essays like Schopenhauer’s on -love and death, are not worth its hundred pages.” - -As if he himself recognised the finality of his art in this identity of -it with nature, Mérimée laid aside his pen after writing it, and wrote -no more stories for twenty years; in truth, wrote no more, for as his -biographer Filon expresses it, when he took up his pen again, he found -it irremediably rusted. - -_The Taking of the Redoubt_ resembles _Carmen_ in this, that the author -so completely effaces his personality from the teller of the story, -that one finds it easier to suppose than not that the incident was -related to him, as he says in the prefatory note, by the officer to -whom it happened, and that he merely wrote it down from memory. The -concession, however, concedes nothing, as long as the word “memory” -is retained in the explanation. For what it stands for here is an -imagination that could make the carelessly dropped incident its own, -and turn upon it a marvellous sight (lens-eye and light, all in one), -until what we read was as clear to Mérimée as it is to us now. Then he -wrote it down in the pages that are without a match in the thousands -of descriptions of battles that have been written. As one does not go -to another for words to describe what one sees oneself, so we need no -interpreter of our sensations when we read _The Taking of the Redoubt_. -It is for us alone, as Mérimée seems to tell us, to read it or not to -read it, to see what took place or not see it. - -In the list of Mérimée’s stories _Mateo Falcone_ stands immediately -before _The Taking of the Redoubt_. Both were published in the same -year, in 1829, which was the twenty-sixth of the author’s age. It is -so seldom mentioned now in English without Walter Pater’s judgment -upon it, “perhaps the cruellest story in the world,” that that might -well be added to the name as a sub-title. It would be so, perhaps, if -Mérimée had not related it. He himself, despite the cold impassivity -that he had schooled himself into maintaining as an author,--he himself -shows here and there a trace of the emotion that he arouses in us. -The temptation, fall, and punishment of the little child touch indeed -the most sensitive nerve in the human heart; the one that can give -the keenest pain; that cuts through the heart like a knife. The story -would be well-nigh unbearable in another hand than Mérimée’s, or had he -told it in a clean, clear thrust of reality, as in _The Taking of the -Redoubt_. But he retards the action in the beginning with details and -diverts the attention with local colour; not, however, be it remarked, -such local colour as he saw with his own eyes, in Spain, but the kind -that he learned how to make so easily in the days of _Clara Gazul_ and -_La Guzla_, that he lost, as he confesses, all respect for it. Mateo, -Gianetto, Gamba, and Giuseppa belong also to the domain of the not -seen, not known. But the child, the unfortunate Fortunato, stands out -against the artificial background of place, time, and circumstance, -with a vividness of reality that, as in _The Taking of the Redoubt_, -would make the reality seem vague and indistinct beside it. A few pages -of this story might be cited as the highest point that Mérimée attained -as an artist. - -He himself considered _The Venus of Ille_ the best story he ever wrote. -The preference is characteristic of him. It contains all the elements -of the mysterious and horrible for which he had an inherent passion; -and he relates it as he loved to relate the extraordinary, in the tone -of skeptical raillery that is the surest as well as the subtlest way of -sowing in a reader distrust in the integrity of his common sense. This -tone, also, was an inherent quality of Mérimée’s; it represented the -attitude of his mind towards the illusions of his imagination, which -he explains in one of his _Lettres Inédites_: “You cannot imagine, -madame, the difference there is between the things which it pleases -me to suppose and those which I admit to be true. I please myself in -imagining goblins and fairies. I make my own hair stand on end by -relating ghost stories to myself. But, notwithstanding the physical -effect I experience, I am not prevented from not believing in ghosts; -on this point my incredulity is so great that even if I were to see a -ghost, I would not believe in it any the more.” - -The old mediæval legend was exhumed by Mérimée, as he unearthed the -bronze statue of the maleficent Venus, in the little village under -the shadow of the Canigou,--in all its beauty and terror, in all its -ferocity, one might say, of pagan Christian. He altered nothing of -it, and added only what as a visiting archæologist, his rôle in the -story, he could not omit: the details of his rather curious experience; -the impression made upon him by the statue, as a woman of seductive -wickedness and cruel, imperious passions, a type of woman that, as his -biographer comments, “none in the Paris of his day (the home of such -divinities) understood so well as he.” - -The ascent to the dramatic catastrophe of the story is so natural, -easy, and pleasant (the preparations for a wedding and its celebration -are of all pleasant things in the world what a reader loves most to -dally with); the means employed by the writer are so natural--for -there is not the faintest suggestion of or appeal to the morbid--that -we arrive at the crisis well prepared to lose none of its weird and -terrible intensity, and the thrill and the shudder that arise in us -then are as real as Mérimée’s own physical tribute to the power of his -imagination. - -Such stories have an intrinsic value that renders them independent of -an author’s name and reputation, even of his time and country. They are -as easily detached from him, and with as little loss to themselves, -as precious stones are from the name and place of the mine that once -held them. This supreme distinction of a story is, nevertheless, what -commends it to the assiduous seekers after the secret of literary -perfection; the philosopher’s stone of the world of letters. Mérimée, -on the whole, has stood the biographical and critical tests applied to -him well, both as man and artist, and, although the secret of his art -in truth went to the grave with him, this much at least has been found -out, that he was worthy to be the author of his stories. - -[Illustration: (Signature) Grace King] - - - - -Carmen - - Πᾶσα γυνὴ χόλος ἐστίν· ἔχει δ' ἀγαθάς δύο ὥρας - Τήν μίαν ἐν θαλάμω, τήν μίαν ἐν θανάτω. - - PALLADAS. - - -I - -I had always suspected the geographers of not knowing what they were -talking about when they placed the battle-field of Munda in the country -of the Bastuli-Pœni, near the modern Monda, some two leagues north of -Marbella. According to my own conjectures concerning the text of the -anonymous author of the _Bellum Hispaniense_, and in view of certain -information collected in the Duke of Ossuna’s excellent library, I -believed that we should seek in the vicinity of Montilla the memorable -spot where for the last time Cæsar played double or quits against -the champions of the republic. Happening to be in Andalusia in the -early autumn of 1830, I made quite a long excursion for the purpose of -setting at rest such doubts as I still entertained. A memoir which I -propose to publish ere long will, I trust, leave no further uncertainty -in the minds of all honest archæologists. Pending the time when my -deliverance shall solve at last the geographical problem which is now -holding all the learning of Europe in suspense, I propose to tell you a -little story; it has no bearing on the question of the actual location -of Munda. - -I had hired a guide and two horses at Cordova, and had taken the -field with no other impedimenta than Cæsar’s _Commentaries_ and a -shirt or two. On a certain day, as I wandered over the more elevated -portion of the plain of Cachena, worn out with fatigue, dying with -thirst, and scorched by a sun of molten lead, I was wishing with all -my heart that Cæsar and Pompey’s sons were in the devil’s grip, when -I spied, at a considerable distance from the path I was following, -a tiny greensward, studded with reeds and rushes, which indicated -the proximity of a spring. In fact, as I drew nearer, I found that -what had seemed to be a greensward was a marshy tract through which a -stream meandered, issuing apparently from a narrow ravine between two -high buttresses of the Sierra de Cabra. I concluded that by ascending -the stream I should find cooler water, fewer leeches and frogs, and -perhaps a bit of shade among the cliffs. As we rode into the gorge my -horse whinnied, and another horse, which I could not see, instantly -answered. I had ridden barely a hundred yards when the gorge, widening -abruptly, disclosed a sort of natural amphitheatre, entirely shaded by -the high cliffs which surrounded it. It was impossible to find a spot -which promised the traveller a more attractive sojourn. At the foot -of perpendicular cliffs, the spring came bubbling forth and fell into -a tiny basin carpeted with sand as white as snow. Five or six fine -live-oaks, always sheltered from the wind and watered by the spring, -grew upon its brink and covered it with their dense shade; and all -about the basin, a fine, sheeny grass promised a softer bed than one -could find at any inn within a radius of ten leagues. - -The honour of discovering so attractive a spot did not belong to me. -A man was already reposing there, and was asleep in all probability -when I rode in. Roused by the neighing of the horses, he had risen, -and had walked towards his horse, which had taken advantage of his -master’s slumber to make a hearty meal on the grass in the immediate -neighbourhood. He was a young fellow, of medium height, but of robust -aspect, and with a proud and distrustful expression. His complexion, -which might once have been fine, had become darker than his hair -through the action of the sun. He held his horse’s halter in one hand -and in the other a blunderbuss with a copper barrel. I will admit -that at first blush the blunderbuss and the forbidding air of its -bearer took me a little by surprise; but I had ceased to believe in -robbers, because I had heard so much said about them and had never -met one. Moreover, I had seen so many honest farmers going to market -armed to the teeth that the sight of a firearm did not justify me in -suspecting the stranger’s moral character.--“And then, too,” I said to -myself, “what would he do with my shirts and my Elzevir Cæsar?” So I -saluted the man with the blunderbuss with a familiar nod, and asked him -smilingly if I had disturbed his sleep. - -He eyed me from head to foot without replying; then, as if satisfied -by his examination, he scrutinised no less closely my guide, who rode -up at that moment. I saw that the latter turned pale and stopped in -evident alarm. “An unfortunate meeting!” I said to myself. But prudence -instantly counselled me to betray no uneasiness. I dismounted, told the -guide to remove the horses’ bridles, and, kneeling by the spring, I -plunged my face and hands in the water; then I took a long draught and -lay flat on my stomach, like the wicked soldiers of Gideon. - -But I kept my eyes on my guide and the stranger. The former drew near, -sorely against his will; the other seemed to have no evil designs upon -us, for he had set his horse at liberty once more, and his blunderbuss, -which he had held at first in a horizontal position, was now pointed -towards the ground. - -As it seemed to me inexpedient to take umbrage at the small amount of -respect shown to my person, I stretched myself out on the grass, and -asked the man with the blunderbuss, in a careless tone, if he happened -to have a flint and steel about him. At the same time I produced my -cigar-case. The stranger, still without a word, felt in his pocket, -took out his flint and steel and courteously struck a light for me. -Evidently he was becoming tamer, for he sat down opposite me, but did -not lay aside his weapon. When my cigar was lighted, I selected the -best of those that remained and asked him if he smoked. - -“Yes, señor,” he replied. - -Those were the first words that he had uttered, and I noticed that -he did not pronounce the s after the Andalusian fashion,[1] whence I -concluded that he was a traveller like myself, minus the archæologist. - -“You will find this rather good,” I said, offering him a genuine Havana -regalia. - -He bent his head slightly, lighted his cigar by mine, thanked me with -another nod, then began to smoke with every appearance of very great -enjoyment. - -“Ah!” he exclaimed, as he discharged the first puff slowly through his -mouth and his nostrils, “how long it is since I have had a smoke!” - -In Spain, a cigar offered and accepted establishes hospitable -relations, just as the sharing of bread and salt does in the East. -My man became more talkative than I had hoped. But, although he -claimed to live in the _partido_ of Montilla, he seemed to be but -ill-acquainted with the country. He did not know the name of the -lovely valley where we were; he could not mention any village in the -neighbourhood; and, lastly, when I asked him whether he had seen any -ruined walls thereabouts, or any tiles with raised edges, or any carved -stones, he admitted that he had never paid any attention to such -things. By way of compensation he exhibited much expert knowledge of -horses. He criticised mine, which was not very difficult; then he gave -me the genealogy of his, which came from the famous stud of Cordova; -a noble animal in very truth, and so proof against fatigue, according -to his master, that he had once travelled thirty leagues in a day, at -a gallop or a fast trot. In the middle of his harangue the stranger -paused abruptly, as if he were surprised and angry with himself for -having said too much. - -“You see, I was in a hurry to get to Cordova,” he added, with some -embarrassment. “I had to present a petition to the judges in the matter -of a lawsuit.” - -As he spoke, he glanced at my guide, Antonio, who lowered his eyes. - -The cool shade and the spring were so delightful to me that I -remembered some slices of excellent ham which my friends at Montilla -had put in my guide’s wallet. I bade him produce them, and I invited -the stranger to join me in my impromptu collation. If he had not smoked -for a long while, it seemed probable to me that he had not eaten for -at least forty-eight hours. He devoured the food like a starved wolf. -It occurred to me that our meeting was a providential affair for the -poor fellow. My guide meanwhile ate little, drank still less, and did -not talk at all, although from the very beginning of our journey he had -revealed himself to me in the guise of an unparalleled chatterbox. Our -guest’s presence seemed to embarrass him, and a certain distrust kept -them at arm’s length from each other, but I was unable to divine its -cause. - -The last crumbs of the bread and ham had vanished; each of us had -smoked a second cigar; I ordered the guide to put the bridles on our -horses, and I was about to take leave of my new friend, when he asked -me where I intended to pass the night. - -I replied, before I had noticed a signal from my guide, that I was -going on to the Venta del Cuervo. - -“A wretched place for a man like you, señor. I am going there, and if -you will allow me to accompany you, we will ride together.” - -“With great pleasure,” I replied, mounting my horse. - -My guide, who was holding my stirrup, made another signal with his -eyes. I answered it with a shrug of my shoulders, as if to assure him -that I was perfectly unconcerned, and we set forth. - -Antonio’s mysterious signs, his evident uneasiness, a few words that -had escaped from the stranger, and, above all, his gallop of thirty -leagues, and the far from plausible explanation of it which he had -offered, had already formed my opinion concerning our travelling -companion. I had no doubt that I had fallen in with a smuggler, -perhaps a highwayman; but what did it matter to me? I was sufficiently -acquainted with the Spanish character to be very sure that I had -nothing to fear from a man who had broken bread and smoked with me. His -very presence was a certain protection against any unpleasant meetings. -Furthermore, I was very glad to know what manner of man a brigand -is. One does not see them every day, and there is a certain charm in -finding oneself in the company of a dangerous individual, especially -when one finds him to be gentle and tame. - -I hoped to lead the stranger by degrees to the point of making me -his confidant, and despite my guide’s meaning winks, I turned the -conversation to the subject of highway robbers. Be it understood that I -spoke of them with great respect. There was in Andalusia at that time -a celebrated brigand named José Maria, whose exploits were on every -tongue. - -“Suppose I were riding beside José Maria!” I said to myself. - -I told such stories as I knew concerning that hero--all to his credit, -by the way,--and I expressed in warm terms my admiration for his -gallantry and his generosity. - -“José Maria is a villain pure and simple,” observed the stranger, -coldly. - -“Is he doing himself justice?” I thought; “or is this merely an excess -of modesty on his part?” For, by dint of observing my companion -closely, I had succeeded in applying to him the description of José -Maria which I had seen placarded on the gates of many a town in -Andalusia. “Yes, it is certainly he: fair hair, blue eyes, large mouth, -fine teeth, small hands; a shirt of fine linen, velvet jacket with -silver buttons, white leather gaiters, a bay horse. There is no doubt -of it! But I will respect his incognito.” - -We arrived at the _venta_. It was the sort of place that he had -described, that is to say, one of the vilest taverns that I had seen as -yet. A large room served as kitchen, dining-room, and bedroom. The fire -was kindled on a flat stone in the middle of the room, and the smoke -emerged through a hole in the roof, or rather hung about it, forming a -dense cloud a few feet from the floor. Stretched on the ground along -the walls could be seen some five or six worn mule-blankets; they were -the beds of the guests. Some twenty yards from the house, or rather -from the single room which I have described, was a sort of shed, which -did duty as a stable. In this attractive abode there were no other -human beings, for the moment at least, than an old woman and a little -girl of eight or ten years, both as black as soot and clad in shocking -rags. - -“Behold,” I said to myself, “all that remains of the population of the -ancient Munda Bœtica! O Cæsar! O Sextus Pompey! how surprised you would -be, should you return to earth!” - -At sight of my companion, the old woman uttered an exclamation of -surprise. - -“Ah! Señor Don José!” she cried. - -Don José frowned and raised his hand with an authoritative gesture -which instantly silenced the old woman. I turned to my guide, and with -an imperceptible sign gave him to understand that there was nothing -that he could tell me concerning the man with whom I was about to pass -the night. - -The supper was better than I anticipated. On a small table about a -foot high we were served with an aged rooster, fricasseed with rice -and an abundance of peppers; then with peppers in oil; and lastly with -_gaspacho_, a sort of pepper salad. Three dishes thus highly seasoned -compelled us to have frequent recourse to a skin of Montilla wine, -which was delicious. After we had eaten, happening to spy a mandolin -hanging on the wall,--there are mandolins everywhere in Spain,--I asked -the little girl who waited on us if she knew how to play it. - -“No,” she replied, “but Don José plays it so well!” - -“Be good enough,” I said to him, “to sing me something; I am -passionately fond of your national music.” - -“I can refuse no request of such a gallant gentleman, who gives me such -excellent cigars,” said Don José, good-naturedly. - -And, having asked for the mandolin, he sang to his own accompaniment. -His voice was rough, but very agreeable, the tune melancholy and weird; -as for the words, I did not understand a syllable. - -“If I am not mistaken,” I said, “that is not a Spanish air. It -resembles the _zorzicos_ which I have heard in the Provinces,[2] and -the words must be Basque.” - -“Yes,” replied Don José, with a gloomy air. - -He placed the mandolin on the floor, and sat with folded arms, gazing -at the dying fire with a strange expression of melancholy. His face at -once noble and fierce, lighted by a lamp that stood on the low table, -reminded me of Milton’s Satan. Perhaps, like him, my companion was -thinking of the sojourn that he had left, of the banishment that he -had incurred by a sin. I tried to revive the conversation, but he did -not answer, absorbed as he was in his sad thoughts. The old woman had -already retired in one corner of the room, behind an old torn blanket -suspended by a cord. The little girl had followed her to that retreat, -reserved for the fair sex. Thereupon my guide rose and invited me to -accompany him to the stable; but at that suggestion Don José, as if -suddenly awakened, asked him roughly where he was going. - -“To the stable,” was the guide’s reply. - -“What for? The horses have their feed. Sleep here; the señor will not -object.” - -“I am afraid the señor’s horse is sick; I would like the señor to see -him; perhaps he will know what to do for him.” - -It was evident that Antonio wished to speak to me in private; but I had -no desire to arouse Don José’s suspicions, and, in view of the footing -on which we then stood, it seemed to me that the wisest course was to -show the most entire confidence. So I told Antonio that I understood -nothing about horses, and that I wished to sleep. Don José went with -him to the stable, whence he soon returned alone. He told me that -nothing was the matter with the horse, but that my guide considered him -such a valuable beast that he was rubbing him with his jacket to make -him sweat, and that he proposed to pass the night in that delectable -occupation. Meanwhile I had stretched myself out on the mule-blankets, -carefully wrapped in my cloak, in order not to come in contact with -them. After apologising for the liberty he took in taking his place -beside me, Don José lay down before the door, not without renewing -the priming of his blunderbuss, which he took care to place under the -wallet which served him for a pillow. Five minutes after we had bade -each other good-night we were both sound asleep. - -I had believed that I was tired enough to be able to sleep even on such -a couch; but after about an hour, a very unpleasant itching roused me -from my first nap. As soon as I realised the nature of it, I rose, -convinced that it would be better to pass the night in the open air -than beneath that inhospitable roof. I walked to the door on tiptoe, -stepped over Don José, who was sleeping the sleep of the just, and -exerted such care that I left the house without waking him. Near the -door was a broad wooden bench; I lay down upon it, and bestowed myself -as comfortably as possible to finish the night. I was just closing my -eyes for the second time, when it seemed to me that I saw the shadows -of a man and a horse pass me, both moving without the slightest sound. -I sat up, and fancied that I recognised Antonio. Surprised to find him -outside of the stable at that time of night, I rose and walked toward -him. He had halted, having seen me first. - -“Where is he?” he asked in a whisper. - -“In the _venta_; he is asleep; he has no fear of fleas. Why are you -taking that horse away?” - -I noticed then that to avoid making any noise on leaving the shed, -Antonio had carefully wrapped the animal’s feet in the remnants of an -old blanket. - -“Speak lower, in God’s name!” said Antonio. “Don’t you know who that -man is? He’s José Navarro, the most celebrated bandit in Andalusia. I -have been making signs to you all day, but you wouldn’t understand.” - -“Bandit or not, what do I care?” said I; “he has not robbed us, and -I’ll wager that he has no inclination to do so.” - -“Very good! but there’s a reward of two hundred ducats for whoever -causes his capture. I know that there’s a detachment of lancers -stationed a league and a half from here, and before daybreak I will -bring up some stout fellows to take him. I would have taken his horse, -but the beast is so vicious that no one but Navarro can go near him.” - -“The devil take you!” said I. “What harm has the poor fellow done to -you that you should denounce him? Besides, are you quite sure that he -is the brigand you say he is?” - -“Perfectly sure; he followed me to the stable just now and said to me: -‘You act as if you knew me; if you tell that honest gentleman who I -am, I’ll blow your brains out!’--Stay, señor, stay with him; you have -nothing to fear. So long as he knows you are here he won’t suspect -anything.” - -As we talked we had walked so far from the _venta_ that the noise of -the horse’s shoes could not be heard there. Antonio, in a twinkling, -removed the rags in which he had wrapped them, and prepared to mount. I -tried to detain him by entreaties and threats. - -“I am a poor devil, señor,” he said; “two hundred ducats aren’t to be -thrown away, especially when it’s a question of ridding the province -of such vermin. But beware! if Navarro wakes, he’ll jump for his -blunderbuss, and then look out for yourself! I have gone too far to go -back; take care of yourself as best you can.” - -The rascal was already in the saddle; he dug both spurs into the horse, -and I soon lost sight of him in the darkness. - -I was very angry with my guide, and decidedly uneasy. After a moment’s -reflection, I decided what to do, and returned to the _venta_. Don José -was still asleep, repairing doubtless the effects of the fatigue and -vigils of several days of peril. I was obliged to shake him violently -in order to rouse him. I shall never forget his fierce glance and -the movement that he made to grasp his blunderbuss, which, as a -precautionary measure, I had placed at some distance from his couch. - -“Señor,” I said, “I ask your pardon for waking you; but I have a -foolish question to ask you: would you be greatly pleased to see half a -dozen lancers ride up to this door?” - -He sprang to his feet and demanded in a terrible voice: - -“Who told you?” - -“It matters little whence the warning comes, provided that it be well -founded.” - -“Your guide has betrayed me, but he shall pay me for it! Where is he?” - -“I don’t know; in the stable, I think.--But some one told me----” - -“Who told you? It couldn’t have been the old woman.” - -“Some one whom I do not know.--But without more words, have you any -reason for not awaiting the soldiers, yes or no? If you have, waste no -time; if not, good-night, and I ask your pardon for disturbing your -sleep.” - -“Ah! your guide! your guide! I suspected him from the first; but--his -account is made up! Farewell, señor! God will repay you for the -service you have rendered me. I am not altogether so bad as you think; -no, there is still something in me which deserves a gallant man’s -compassion.--Farewell, señor! I have but one regret, and that is that I -cannot pay my debt to you.” - -“In payment of the service I have rendered you, promise, Don José, to -suspect no one, and not to think of revenge. Here, take these cigars, -and a pleasant journey to you!” - -And I offered him my hand. - -He pressed it without replying, took his blunderbuss and his wallet, -and after exchanging a few words with the old woman, in an argot which -I could not understand, he ran to the shed. A few moments later I heard -him galloping across country. - -I lay down again on my bench, but I slept no more. I wondered whether -I had done right to save a highwayman, perhaps a murderer, from the -gibbet, simply because I had eaten ham and rice _à la Valenciennes_ -with him. Had I not betrayed my guide, who was upholding the cause of -the law? Had I not exposed him to the vengeance of a miscreant? But -the duties of hospitality!--“The prejudice of a savage!” I said to -myself; “I shall be responsible for all the crimes that bandit may -commit.”--But after all, is it really a prejudice, that instinct of -the conscience which is impervious to all argument? Perhaps, in the -delicate situation in which I found myself, I could not have taken -either course without remorse. I was still in a maze of uncertainty -concerning the moral aspect of my action, when I saw half a dozen -horsemen approaching, with Antonio, who remained prudently with the -rear-guard. I went to meet them and informed them that the brigand had -taken flight more than two hours before. The old woman, when questioned -by the officer in command, admitted that she knew Navarro, but said -that, living alone as she did, she should never have dared to risk her -life by denouncing him. She added that it was his custom, whenever he -visited her house, to leave in the middle of the night. For my part, I -was obliged to go to a place a few leagues away, to show my passport -and sign a declaration before an alcalde, after which I was allowed -to resume my archæological investigations. Antonio bore me a grudge, -suspecting that it was I who had prevented him from earning the two -hundred ducats. However, we parted on friendly terms at Cordova, where -I gave him a gratuity as large as the state of my finances would permit. - - -II - -I passed several days at Cordova. I had been told of a certain -manuscript in the library of the Dominican convent, in which I was -likely to find valuable information concerning the Munda of the -ancients. Being very amiably received by the good fathers, I passed -the days in their convent, and walked about the city in the evenings. -There is always a throng of idlers, about sunset, on the quay that -borders the right bank of the Guadalquivir at Cordova. There one -inhales the emanations from a tannery which still maintains the ancient -celebrity of the district for the manufacture of leather; but, on the -other hand, one enjoys a spectacle that has its merits. A few minutes -before the Angelus, a great number of women assemble on the river -bank, below the quay, which is quite high. No man would dare to join -that group. As soon as the Angelus rings, it is supposed to be dark. -At the last stroke of the bell, all those women undress and go into -the water. Thereupon there is tremendous shouting and laughter and an -infernal uproar. From the quay above, the men stare at the bathers, -squinting their eyes, but they see very little. However, those vague -white shapes outlined against the dark blue of the stream set poetic -minds at work; and with a little imagination it is not difficult to -conjure up a vision of Diana and her nymphs in the bath, without -having to fear the fate of Actæon. I had been told that on a certain -day a number of profane scapegraces clubbed together to grease the palm -of the bell-ringer at the cathedral and hire him to ring the Angelus -twenty minutes before the legal hour. Although it was still broad -daylight, the nymphs of the Guadalquivir did not hesitate, but trusting -the Angelus rather than the sun, they fearlessly made their bathing -toilet, which is always of the simplest. I was not there. In my day the -bell-ringer was incorruptible, the twilight far from brilliant, and -only a cat could have distinguished the oldest orange-woman from the -prettiest grisette in Cordova. - -One evening, when it was too dark to see anything, I was leaning -against the parapet of the quay, smoking, when a woman ascended the -steps leading to the river and seated herself by my side. She had in -her hair a large bouquet of jasmine, the flowers of which exhale an -intoxicating odour at night. She was simply, perhaps poorly clad, all -in black, like most grisettes in the evening. Women of fashion wear -black only in the morning; in the evening they dress _à la francesca_. -When she reached my side, my bather allowed the mantilla which covered -her head to fall over her shoulders, and I saw, “by the dim light -that falleth from the stars,” that she was young, small, well built, -and that she had very large eyes. I threw my cigar away at once. She -appreciated that distinctively French attention, and made haste to -say that she was very fond of the smell of tobacco; in fact, that she -sometimes smoked herself, when she could obtain a very mild _papelito_. -Luckily, I happened to have some of that description in my case, and -I lost no time in offering them to her. She deigned to take one and -lighted it at a piece of burning string which a child brought us in -consideration of a small coin. Mingling our smoke, we talked so long, -the fair bather and myself, that we were finally left almost alone on -the quay. I thought that I might safely venture to invite her to take -an ice at the _neveria_.[3] After hesitating modestly, she accepted; -but before concluding to do so, she wished to know what time it was. I -caused my repeater to strike, and that striking seemed to surprise her -greatly. - -“What wonderful things you foreigners invent! From what country are -you, señor? An Englishman, no doubt?”[4] - -“A Frenchman, and your humble servant. And you, señorita, or señora, -are of Cordova, I presume?” - -“No.” - -“You are an Andalusian, at all events. It seems to me that I can tell -that by your soft speech.” - -“If you observe everybody’s speech so closely, you should be able to -guess what I am.” - -“I believe that you are from the land of Jesus, within two steps of -paradise.” - -(I had learned this metaphor, which designates Andalusia, from my -friend Francisco Sevilla, a well-known picador.) - -“Bah! paradise--the people about here say that it wasn’t made for us.” - -“In that case you must be a Moor, or----” - -I checked myself, not daring to say “Jewess.” - -“Nonsense! you see well enough that I am a gypsy; would you like me to -tell your _baji_?[5] Have you ever heard of La Carmencita? I am she.” - -I was such a ne’er-do-well in those days--fifteen years ago--that I did -not recoil in horror when I found myself seated beside a sorceress. - -“Pshaw!” I said to myself, “last week I supped with a highway robber, -to-day I will eat ices with a handmaid of the devil. When one is -travelling, one must see everything.” - -I had still another motive for cultivating her acquaintance. When I -left school, I confess to my shame, I had wasted some time studying the -occult sciences, and several times indeed I had been tempted to conjure -up the spirits of darkness. Long since cured of my fondness for such -investigations, I still retained, nevertheless, a certain amount of -curiosity concerning all kinds of superstition, and I rejoiced at the -prospect of learning how far the art of magic had been carried among -the gypsies. - -While talking together we had entered the _neveria_ and had taken -our seats at a small table lighted by a candle confined in a glass -globe. I had abundant opportunity to examine my _gitana_, while -divers respectable folk who were eating ices there lost themselves in -amazement at seeing me in such goodly company. - -I seriously doubt whether Señorita Carmen was of the pure breed; at -all events, she was infinitely prettier than any of the women of her -nation whom I had ever met. No woman is beautiful, say the Spaniards, -unless she combines thirty _so’s_; or, if you prefer, unless she may -be described by ten adjectives, each of which is applicable to three -parts of her person. For instance, she must have three black things: -eyes, lashes, and eyebrows, etc. (See Brantôme for the rest.) My gypsy -could make no pretension to so many perfections. Her skin, albeit -perfectly smooth, closely resembled the hue of copper. Her eyes were -oblique, but of a beautiful shape; her lips a little heavy but well -formed, and disclosed two rows of teeth whiter than almonds without -their skins. Her hair, which was possibly a bit coarse, was black with -a blue reflection, like a crow’s wing, and long and glossy. To avoid -fatiguing you with a too verbose description, I will say that for each -defect she had some good point, which stood out the more boldly perhaps -by the very contrast. It was a strange, wild type of beauty, a face -which took one by surprise at first, but which one could not forget. -Her eyes, especially, had an expression at once voluptuous and fierce, -which I have never seen since in any mortal eye. “A gypsy’s eye is a -wolf’s eye” is a Spanish saying which denotes keen observation. If you -have not the time to go to the Jardin des Plantes to study the glance -of a wolf, observe your cat when it is watching a sparrow. - -Of course it would have been absurd to have my fortune told in a café. -So I requested the pretty sorceress to allow me to accompany her to her -home. She readily consented, but she desired once more to know how the -time was passing and asked me to make my watch strike again. - -“Is it real gold?” she inquired, scrutinising it with extraordinary -attention. - -When we left the café, it was quite dark; most of the shops were -closed, and the streets almost deserted. We crossed the Guadalquivir -by the bridge, and at the very extremity of the suburb, we stopped -in front of a house which bore no resemblance to a palace. A child -admitted us. The gypsy said some words to him in a language entirely -unknown to me, which I afterwards found was the _rommani_ or _chipe -calli_, the language of the _gitanos_. The child at once disappeared, -leaving us in a room of considerable size, furnished with a small -table, two stools, and a chest. I must not forget to mention a jar of -water, a pile of oranges, and a bunch of onions. - -As soon as we were alone, the gypsy took from her chest a pack of cards -which seemed to have seen much service, a magnet, a dried chameleon, -and a number of other articles essential to her art. Then she bade me -make a cross in my left hand with a coin, and the magic ceremonies -began. It is unnecessary to repeat her predictions; and, as for her -method of operation, it was evident that she was not a sorceress by -halves. - -Unfortunately we were soon disturbed. The door was suddenly thrown -open with violence, and a man wrapped to the eyes in a brown cloak -entered the room, addressing the gypsy in a far from amiable fashion. -I did not understand what he said, but his tone indicated that he was -in a very bad temper. At sight of him the _gitana_ exhibited neither -surprise nor anger, but she ran to meet him, and, with extraordinary -volubility, said several sentences in the mysterious tongue which she -had already used in my presence. The word _payllo_, repeated several -times, was the only word that I understood. I knew that the gypsies -designated thus every man of another race than their own. Assuming -that I was the subject of discussion, I looked forward to a delicate -explanation; I already had my hand on one of the stools and was -deliberating as to the precise moment when it would be well for me to -hurl it at the intruder’s head. But he roughly pushed the gypsy aside -and strode toward me; then recoiled a step, exclaiming: - -“What! is it you, señor?” - -I looked closely at him and recognised my friend Don José. At that -moment I was inclined to regret that I had not let him be hanged. - -“Ah! is it you, my fine fellow?” I cried, laughing as heartily as I -could manage to do; “you interrupted the señorita just as she was -telling me some very interesting things.” - -“Always the same! This must come to an end,” he said between his teeth, -glaring savagely at the girl. - -She meanwhile continued to talk to him in her own language. She became -excited by degrees. Her eye became bloodshot and terrible to look at, -her features contracted, and she stamped upon the floor. It seemed to -me that she was earnestly urging him to do something which he evidently -hesitated to do. What that something was, I fancied that I understood -only too well, when I saw her draw her little hand swiftly back and -forth under her chin. I was tempted to believe that it was a matter of -cutting a throat, and I had some suspicion that the throat in question -was my own. - -To all this torrent of eloquence Don José replied only by two or three -words uttered in a sharp tone. Thereupon the gypsy bestowed on him a -glance of supreme contempt; then seated herself Turkish fashion in a -corner of the room, selected an orange, peeled it, and began to eat it. - -Don José seized my arm, opened the door and led me into the street. -We walked about two hundred yards in absolute silence. Then he said, -extending his hand: - -“Go straight ahead and you will come to the bridge.” - -With that he turned his back on me and walked rapidly away. I returned -to my inn rather sheepishly and in a very bad temper. The worst feature -of the affair was that when I undressed I found that my watch was -missing. - -Various considerations deterred me from going the next day to demand -it back, or from applying to the corregidor to recover it for me. -I completed my work on the manuscript at the Dominican convent and -departed for Seville. After wandering about Andalusia for several -months, I determined to return to Madrid, and it was necessary for me -to pass through Cordova once more. I did not propose to make a long -stay there, for I had taken a violent dislike to that fair city and -the bathers in the Guadalquivir. However, a few errands to do and some -friends to call upon would detain me three or four days at least in the -ancient capital of the Mussulman princes. - -When I appeared at the Dominican convent, one of the fathers, who had -taken a lively interest in my investigations concerning the location of -Munda, welcomed me with open arms. - -“Blessed be the name of God!” he cried. “Welcome, my dear friend! We -all believed you to be dead, and I who speak to you, I have recited -many _paters_ and _aves_, which I do not regret, for the welfare of -your soul. So you were not murdered?--for robbed we know that you -were.” - -“How so?” I asked, not a little astonished. - -“Why, yes--you know, that beautiful repeating watch that you used to -make strike in the library when we told you that it was time to go to -the choir. Well! it has been recovered; it will be restored to you.” - -“That is to say,” I interrupted, somewhat disconcerted, “I lost it----” - -“The villain is behind the bars, and as he was known to be a man who -would fire a gun at a Christian to obtain a penny, we were terribly -afraid that he had killed you. I will go to the corregidor’s with you, -and we will obtain your fine watch. And then, do not let me hear you -whisper that justice does not know its business in Spain!” - -“I confess,” said I, “that I would rather lose my watch than give -testimony in court which might send a poor devil to the gallows, -especially because--because----” - -“Oh! do not be alarmed on that score; he is well recommended, and he -cannot be hanged twice. When I say hanged, I am wrong. He is a hidalgo, -is your robber; so that he will be garroted[6] day after to-morrow, -without fail. So, you see, one theft more or less will have no effect -on his fate. Would to God that he had done nothing but steal! but he -has committed several murders, each more shocking than the last.” - -“What is his name?” - -“He is known throughout the province by the name of José Navarro, -but he has another Basque name, which neither you nor I could ever -pronounce. But he is a man worth looking at, and you, interested as you -are in seeing all the curiosities of the province, should not neglect -the opportunity to learn how villains leave this world in Spain. It -will be in the chapel, and Father Martinez will take you thither.” - -My Dominican insisted so earnestly that I should view the preparations -for the “pretty little hanging” that I could not refuse. I went to see -the prisoner, having first supplied myself with a bunch of cigars, -which, I hoped, would induce him to pardon my indiscretion. - -I was ushered into the presence of Don José while he was eating. He -nodded coldly to me, and thanked me courteously for the present I -brought him. Having counted the cigars in the bunch which I placed in -his hands, he took out a certain number and returned the rest to me, -remarking that he should not need any more. - -I asked him if I could make his lot any easier by the expenditure of a -little money or by the influence of my friends. At first he shrugged -his shoulders and smiled sadly; but in a moment, on further reflection, -he requested me to have a mass said for the salvation of his soul. - -“Would you,” he added timidly,--“would you be willing to have one said -also for a person who injured you?” - -“Certainly, my dear fellow,” I said; “but there is no one in this part -of the country who has injured me, so far as I know.” - -He took my hand and pressed it, with a solemn expression. After a -moment’s silence, he continued: - -“May I venture to ask another favour at your hands? When you return to -your own country, perhaps you will pass through Navarre; at all events, -you will go by way of Vittoria, which is not very far away.” - -“Yes,” I said, “I certainly shall go by way of Vittoria, but it is not -impossible that I may turn aside to go to Pampelune, and, to oblige -you, I think that I would willingly make that détour.” - -“Very well! if you go to Pampelune, you will see more than one thing -that will interest you. It is a fine city. I will give you this -locket (he showed me a little silver locket which he wore about his -neck); you will wrap it in paper”--he paused a moment to control his -emotion--“and deliver it, or have it delivered, to a good woman whose -address I will give you. You will tell her that I am dead, but that you -do not know how I died.” - -I promised to perform his commission. I saw him again the next day, and -passed a large part of the day with him. It was from his own lips that -I learned the melancholy adventures which follow. - - -III - -“I was born,” he said, “at Elizondo, in the valley of Baztan. My name -is Don José Lizzarrabengoa, and you are familiar enough with Spain, -señor, to know at once from my name that I am a Basque and a Christian -of the ancient type. I use the title _Don_ because I am entitled to -it; and if I were at Elizondo, I would show you my genealogy on a -sheet of parchment. My family wished me to be a churchman, and they -forced me to study, but I profited little by it. I was too fond of -playing tennis--that was my ruin. When we Navarrese play tennis, we -forget everything. One day, when I had won, a young man from Alava -picked a quarrel with me; we took our _maquilas_,[7] and again I had -the advantage; but that incident compelled me to leave the country. -I fell in with some dragoons, and I enlisted in the cavalry regiment -of Almanza. The men from our mountains learn the military profession -quickly. I soon became a corporal, with the promise of being promoted -to quartermaster, when, to my undoing, I was placed on duty at the -tobacco factory in Seville. If you have ever been to Seville, you -must have seen that great building, outside of the fortifications, -close to the Guadalquivir. It seems to me that I can see the doorway -and the guard-house beside it at this moment. When on duty Spanish -troops either gamble or sleep; I, like an honest Navarrese, always -tried to find something to do. I was making a chain of brass wire, to -hold my primer. Suddenly my comrades said: ‘There goes the bell; the -girls will be going back to work.’ You must know, señor, that there -are four or five hundred girls employed in the factory. They roll the -cigars in a large room which no man can enter without a permit from -the Twenty-four,[8] because they are in the habit of making themselves -comfortable, the young ones especially, when it is warm. At the hour -when the women return to work, after their dinner, many young men -assemble to see them pass, and they make remarks of all colours to -them. There are very few of those damsels who will refuse a silk -mantilla, and the experts in that fishery have only to stoop to pick -up their fish. While the others stared, I remained on my bench, near -the door. I was young then; I was always thinking of the old province, -and I did not believe that there were any pretty girls without blue -petticoats and long plaited tresses falling over their shoulders.[9] -Moreover, the Andalusian girls frightened me; I was not accustomed as -yet to their manners: always jesting, never a serious word. So I had my -nose over my chain, when I heard some civilians say: ‘Here comes the -_gitanella_!’ I raised my eyes and I saw her. It was a Friday, and I -shall never forget it. I saw that Carmen whom you know, at whose house -I met you several months ago. - -“She wore a very short red skirt, which revealed white silk stockings -with more than one hole, and tiny shoes of red morocco, tied with -flame-coloured ribbons. She put her mantilla aside, to show her -shoulders and a huge bunch of cassia, which protruded from her chemise. -She had a cassia flower in the corner of her mouth, too, and as she -walked she swung her hips like a filly in the stud at Cordova. In -my province a woman in that costume would have compelled everybody -to cross themselves. At Seville every one paid her some equivocal -compliment on her appearance, and she had a reply for every one, -casting sly glances here and there, with her hand on her hip, as -impudent as the genuine gypsy that she was. At first sight she did not -attract me, and I returned to my work; but she, according to the habit -of women and cats, who do not come when you call them, but come when -you refrain from calling them,--she halted in front of me and spoke to -me. - -“‘_Compadre_,’ she said in Andalusian fashion, ‘will you give me your -chain to hold the keys of my strong-box?’ - -“‘It is to hold my primer’ [_épinglette_], I replied. - -“‘Your _épinglette_!’ she exclaimed, with a laugh. ‘Ah! the señor makes -lace, since he needs pins!’ [_épingles_] - -“Everybody present began to laugh, and I felt the blood rise to my -cheeks, nor could I think of any answer to make. - -“‘Well, my heart,’ she continued, ‘make me seven ells of black lace -for a mantilla, pincushion [_épinglier_] of my soul!’ - -“And, taking the flower from her mouth she threw it at me with a jerk -of her thumb, and struck me between the eyes. Señor, that produced -on me the effect of a bullet. I did not know which way to turn, so I -sat as still as a post. When she had gone into the factory, I saw the -cassia blossom lying on the ground between my feet; I do not know what -made me do it, but I picked it up, unseen by my comrades, and stowed it -carefully away in my pocket--the first folly! - -“Two or three hours later, I was still thinking of her, when a porter -rushed into the guard-house, gasping for breath and with a horrified -countenance. He told us that a woman had been murdered in the large -room where the cigars were made, and that we must send the guard there. -The quartermaster told me to take two men and investigate. I took my -two men and I went upstairs. Imagine, señor, that on entering the room -I found, first of all, three hundred women in their chemises, or -practically that, all shouting and yelling and gesticulating, making -such an infernal uproar that you could not have heard God’s thunder. -On one side a woman lay on the floor, covered with blood, with an X -carved on her face by two blows of a knife. On the opposite side from -the wounded woman, whom the best of her comrades were assisting, I saw -Carmen in the grasp of five or six women. - -“‘Confession! Confession! I am killed!’ shrieked the wounded woman. - -“Carmen said nothing; she clenched her teeth and rolled her eyes about -like a chameleon. - -“‘What is all this?’ I demanded. I had great difficulty in learning -what had taken place, for all the work-girls talked at once. It seemed -that the wounded one had boasted of having money enough in her pocket -to buy an ass at the fair at Triana. - -“‘I say,’ said Carmen, who had a tongue of her own, ‘isn’t a -broomstick good enough for you?’ The other, offended by the insult, -perhaps because she was conscious that she was vulnerable on that -point, replied that she was not a connoisseur in broomsticks, as she -had not the honour to be a gypsy or a godchild of Satan, but that the -Señorita Carmencita would soon make the acquaintance of her ass, when -the corregidor took her out to ride, with two servants behind to keep -the flies away. ‘Well!’ said Carmen, ‘I’ll make watering-troughs for -flies on your cheek, and I’ll paint a checker-board on it.’ And with -that, vli, vlan! she began to draw St. Andrew’s crosses on the other’s -face with the knife with which she cut off the ends of the cigars. - -“The case was clear enough; I took Carmen by the arm. ‘You must come -with me, my sister,’ I said to her courteously. She darted a glance at -me, as if she recognised me; but she said, with a resigned air: - -“‘Let us go. Where’s my mantilla?’ - -“She put it over her head in such wise as to show only one of her great -eyes, and followed my two men, as mild as a sheep. When we reached the -guard-house, the quartermaster said that it was a serious matter, and -that she must be taken to prison. It fell to my lot again to escort -her there. I placed her between two dragoons, and marched behind, as a -corporal should do under such circumstances. We started for the town. -At first the gypsy kept silent; but on Rue de Serpent--you know that -street; it well deserves its name because of the détours it makes--she -began operations by letting her mantilla fall over her shoulders, in -order to show me her bewitching face, and turning toward me as far as -she could, she said: - -“‘Where are you taking me, my officer?’ - -“‘To prison, my poor child,’ I replied, as gently as possible, as a -good soldier should speak to a prisoner, especially to a woman. - -“‘Alas! what will become of me? Señor officer, take pity on me. You are -so young, so good looking!’ Then she added, in a lower tone: ‘Let me -escape, and I’ll give you a piece of the _bar lachi_, which will make -all women love you.’ - -“The _bar lachi_, señor, is the lodestone, with which the gypsies claim -that all sorts of spells may be cast when one knows how to use it. Give -a woman a pinch of ground lodestone in a glass of white wine, and she -ceases to resist.--I replied with as much gravity as I could command: - -“‘We are not here to talk nonsense; you must go to prison--that is the -order, and there is no way to avoid it.’ - -“We natives of the Basque country have an accent which makes it easy -for the Spaniards to identify us; on the other hand, there is not one -of them who can learn to say even _baï, jaona_.[10] So that Carmen -had no difficulty in guessing that I came from the provinces. You -must know, señor, that the gypsies, being of no country, are always -travelling, and speak all languages, and that most of them are -perfectly at home in Portugal, in France, in the Basque provinces, in -Catalonia, everywhere; they even make themselves understood by the -Moors and the English. Carmen knew Basque very well. - -“‘_Laguna ene bihotsarena_, comrade of my heart,’ she said to me -abruptly, ‘are you from the provinces?’ - -“Our language, señor, is so beautiful, that, when we hear it in a -foreign land, it makes us tremble.--I would like to have a confessor -from the provinces,” added the bandit in a lower tone. - -He continued after a pause: - -“‘I am from Elizondo,’ I replied in Basque, deeply moved to hear my -native tongue spoken. - -“‘And I am from Etchalar,’ said she. That is a place about four hours’ -journey from us. ‘I was brought to Seville by gypsies. I have been -working in the factory to earn money enough to return to Navarre, to -my poor mother, who has no one but me to support her, and a little -_barratcea_[11] with twenty cider-apple trees! Ah! if I was at home, -by the white mountain! They insulted me because I don’t belong in -this land of thieves and dealers in rotten oranges; and those hussies -all leagued against me, because I told them that all their Seville -_jacques_[12] with their knives, wouldn’t frighten one of our boys -with his blue cap and his _maquila_. Comrade, my friend, won’t you do -anything for a countrywoman?’ - -“She lied, señor, she always lied. I doubt whether that girl ever said -a true word in her life; but when she spoke, I believed her; it was too -much for me. She murdered the Basque language, yet I believed that she -was a Navarrese. Her eyes alone, to say nothing of her mouth and her -colour, proclaimed her a gypsy. I was mad, I paid no heed to anything. -I thought that if Spaniards had dared to speak slightingly to me of -the provinces, I would have slashed their faces as she had slashed her -comrade’s. In short, I was like a drunken man; I began to say foolish -things, I was on the verge of doing them. - -“‘If I should push you and you should fall, my countryman,’ she -continued, in Basque, ‘it would take more than these two Castilian -recruits to hold me.’ - -“Faith, I forgot orders and everything, and said to her: - -“‘Well, my dear, my countrywoman, try it, and may Our Lady of the -Mountain be with you!’ - -“At that moment we were passing one of the narrow lanes of which there -are so many in Seville. All of a sudden Carmen turned and struck me -with her fist in the breast. I purposely fell backward. With one spring -she leaped over me and began to run, showing us a fleet pair of legs! -Basque legs are famous; hers were quite equal to them--as swift and as -well moulded. I sprang up instantly; but I held my lance horizontally -so as to block the street, so that my men were delayed for a moment -when they attempted to pursue her. Then I began to run myself, and they -at my heels. But overtake her! there was no danger of that, with our -spurs, and sabres, and lances![13] In less time than it takes to tell -it, the prisoner had disappeared. Indeed, all the women in the quarter -favoured her flight, laughed at us, and sent us in the wrong direction. -After much marching and countermarching, we were obliged to return to -the guard-house without a receipt from the governor of the prison. - -“My men, to avoid being punished, said that Carmen had talked Basque -with me; and to tell the truth, it did not seem any too natural that -a blow with the fist of so diminutive a girl should upset a fellow of -my build so easily. It all seemed decidedly suspicious, or rather it -seemed only too clear. When I went off duty I was reduced to the ranks -and sent to prison for a month. That was my first punishment since I -had been in the service. Farewell to the uniform of a quartermaster, -which I fancied that I had already won! - -“My first days in prison passed dismally enough. When I enlisted I had -imagined that I should at least become an officer. Longa and Mina, -countrymen of mine, are captains-general; Chapalangarra, who, like -Mina, is a negro and is a refugee in your country--Chapalangarra was -a colonel, and I have played tennis twenty times with his brother, -who was a poor devil like myself. Now I said to myself: ‘All the time -that you have served without punishment is time thrown away. Here you -are blacklisted, and to regain the good graces of your superiors, you -will have to work ten times harder than when you first enlisted! And -why did you receive punishment? For a gypsy hussy, who made a fool of -you, and who is doubtless stealing at this moment in some corner of the -city.’--But I could not help thinking of her. Would you believe it, -señor? I had always before my eyes her silk stockings, full of holes, -which she had shown me from top to bottom when she ran away. I looked -through the bars into the street, and among all the women who passed -I did not see a single one who could be compared with that devil of a -girl! And then, too, in spite of myself, I smelt of the cassia flower -she had thrown at me, which, although it had withered, still retained -its sweet odour. If there are such things as witches, that girl was one! - -“One day the jailer came in and gave me an Alcala[14] loaf. - -“‘Here,’ said he, ‘your cousin sends you this.’ - -“I took the loaf, greatly surprised, for I had no cousin in Seville. -‘It may be a mistake,’ I thought as I glanced at the loaf; but it was -so appetising, it smelt so good, that, without disturbing myself as -to whence it came or for whom it was intended, I determined to eat it. -On attempting to cut it my knife came in contact with something hard. -I investigated and found a small English file, which had been slipped -into the dough before baking. There was also in the loaf a gold piece -of two piastres. There was no more doubt in my mind; it was a gift from -Carmen. To people of her race freedom is everything, and they would set -fire to a city to save themselves from a day in prison. However, she -was a shrewd minx, and with that loaf one could snap one’s fingers at -jailers. In an hour’s time the stoutest bar could be sawed through with -the little file; and with the two piastres I could exchange my uniform -for a civilian’s coat at the first old clo’-man’s. You may imagine that -a man who had many a time taken young eaglets from their nests on our -cliffs would not have been at a loss to climb down into the street from -a window less than thirty feet high. But I did not wish to escape. I -still possessed my honour as a soldier, and to desert seemed to me a -heinous crime. However, I was touched by that token of remembrance. -When you are in prison you like to think that you have a friend outside -who is interested in you. The gold piece disturbed me a little, and I -would have liked to return it; but where was I to find my creditor? -That did not seem to me a simple matter. - -“After the ceremony of reduction to the ranks, I thought that I could -not suffer any more; but I had still another humiliation to undergo: -when, on my release from prison, I was restored to duty and made to -take my turn at sentry-go like any private. You cannot conceive what -a man of spirit feels at such a time. I believe that I would as lief -have been shot. Then, at all events, you walk alone, in front of the -platoon; you feel that you are somebody; people look at you. - -“I was stationed at the colonel’s door. He was a wealthy young man, -a good fellow, who liked to enjoy himself. All the young officers -were at his house, and many civilians--women, too, actresses, so it -was said. For my own part, it seemed to me as if the whole city had -arranged to meet at his door, in order to stare at me. Finally, the -colonel’s carriage drives up, with his valet on the box. Whom do I see -alight from it?--the _gitanella_! She was arrayed like a shrine this -time, bedizened and bedecked, all gold and ribbons. A spangled dress, -blue slippers, also with spangles, and flowers and lace everywhere. She -had a tambourine in her hand. There were two other gypsy women with -her, one young and one old. There always is an old woman to go about -with them. Then, there was an old man, also a gypsy, with a guitar, to -play for them to dance. You know that it is the fashion to hire gypsies -to go about to parties, to dance the _romalis_--that is their national -dance--and oftentimes for something else. - -“Carmen recognised me and we exchanged a glance. I do not know why, but -at that moment I would have liked to be a hundred feet underground. - -“‘_Agur laguna_,’[15] she said; ‘you seem to be mounting guard, like a -raw recruit, my officer!’ - -“And before I had thought of a word to say in reply, she was inside the -house. - -“The whole company was in the _patio_, and in spite of the crowd, I -could see through the gate almost everything that took place.[16] -I heard the castanets, the tambourine, the laughter and applause; -sometimes I could see her head when she leaped into the air with her -tambourine. And then I heard some of the officers say to her many -things that brought the blood to my cheeks. I did not know what she -replied. It was that day, I believe, that I began to love her in good -earnest; for I was tempted three or four times to go into the _patio_ -and run my sabre into the belly of those popinjays who were making love -to her. My torture lasted a good hour; then the gypsies came out and -the carriage took them away. Carmen, as she passed, glanced at me again -with the eyes that you know, and said, very low: - -“‘My countryman, when one likes nice fried things, one goes to Lillas -Pastia’s at Triana for them.’ - -“Nimble as a kid, she jumped into the carriage, the coachman whipped -his mules, and the whole merry band drove away, I know not where. - -“You will readily guess that when I was relieved from duty I went to -Triana; but I was shaved first, and brushed my clothes as for a dress -parade. She was at Lillas Pastia’s, an old gypsy, black as a Moor, -who kept an eating-house, to which many civilians came to eat fried -fish--especially, I rather think, since Carmen had taken up her -quarters there. - -“‘Lillas,’ she said, as soon as she saw me, ‘I shall do nothing more -to-day. It will be light to-morrow.[17] Come, my countryman, let’s go -for a walk.’ - -“She put her mantilla over her face, and behold, we were in the street, -I with no idea where we were going. - -“‘Señorita,’ I said, ‘I believe that I have to thank you for a present -which you sent me when I was in prison. I ate the bread; I shall use -the file to sharpen my lance, and I shall keep it in memory of you; but -here is the money.’ - -“‘My word! he has kept the money!’ she exclaimed, laughing heartily. -‘However, it’s all the better, for I am not in funds. But what does it -matter? The dog that keeps going always finds a bone.[18] Come on, we -will eat it all up. You shall treat me.’ - -“We were walking in the direction of Seville. As we entered Rue -de Serpent, she bought a dozen oranges and bade me put them in my -handkerchief. A little farther on she bought bread and sausages, and a -bottle of Manzanilla; and finally she entered a confectioner’s shop. -There she tossed on the counter the gold piece I had given back to -her with another that she had in her pocket and some small silver; -then she asked me for all that I had. I had only a _piecette_ and a -few _cuartos_, which I gave her, sorely vexed because I had no more. -I thought that she intended to carry off the whole shop. She selected -all the best and most expensive sweetmeats: _yemas_,[19] _turon_,[20] -preserved fruits, so long as the money held out. All those things too -I must needs carry in paper bags. Perhaps you know Rue de Candilejo, -where there’s a head of King Don Pedro the Justiciary?[21] That head -should have suggested some salutary reflections to my mind. We stopped -in front of an old house on that street. She entered the passage and -knocked at a door on the ground floor. A gypsy woman, a veritable -handmaid of Satan, opened the door. Carmen said a few words to her in -_rommani_. The old woman grumbled at first, and Carmen, to pacify her, -gave her two oranges and a handful of bonbons, and allowed her to taste -the wine. Then she put her cloak over her shoulders and escorted her -to the door, which she secured behind her with an iron bar. As soon as -we were alone, she began to dance and laugh like a mad woman, saying: - -“‘You are my _rom_, and I am your _romi_!’[22] - -“I stood in the middle of the room, laden with all her purchases, not -knowing where to put them. She threw them all on the floor and jumped -on my neck, saying: - -“‘I pay my debts, I pay my debts! That is the law of the _cales_.’[23] - -“Ah! that day, señor! that day! When I think of it, I forget to-morrow!” - -The bandit was silent for a moment; then, having relighted his cigar, -he continued: - -“We passed the whole day together, eating, drinking, and the rest. -When she had eaten her fill of bonbons, like a child of six, she -stuffed handfuls of them into the old woman’s water-jar.--‘That’s to -make sherbet for her,’ she said. She crushed _yemas_ by throwing them -against the wall. ‘That’s to induce the flies to let us alone,’ she -said. There is no conceivable trick and no folly that she did not -commit. I told her that I would like to see her dance; but where was -she to obtain castanets? She instantly took the old woman’s only plate, -broke it in pieces, and in a moment she was dancing the _romalis_, -clapping the pieces of crockery in as perfect time as if they had been -castanets of ebony or ivory. One was never bored with that girl, I -assure you. - -“Night came on and I heard the drums beating the retreat. - -“‘I must go to quarters for the roll-call,’ I said. - -“‘To quarters?’ she repeated, contemptuously; ‘are you a negro, pray, -that you allow yourself to be led by a stick? You are a regular canary, -in dress and in temper![24] Go! you are a chicken-hearted fellow!’ - -“I remained, with my mind made up beforehand to the guard-room. The -next morning, she was the first to mention parting. - -“‘Look you, Joseito,’ she said, ‘have I paid you? According to our law, -I owed you nothing, as you are a _payllo_; but you are a comely youth, -and you took my fancy. We are quits. Good-day.’ - -“I asked her when I should see her again. - -“‘When you are less stupid,’ she replied with a laugh. Then, in a more -serious tone: ‘Do you know, my son, that I believe that I love you a -little bit? But it can’t last. Dog and wolf don’t live happily together -for long. Perhaps, if you should swear allegiance to Egypt, I should -like to be your _romi_. But this is foolish talk; it can never be. -Believe me, my boy, you have come off cheap. You have met the devil, -yes, the devil; he isn’t always black, and he didn’t wring your neck. I -am dressed in wool, but I am no sheep.[25] Go and put a wax candle in -front of your _majari_.[26] She has well earned it. Well, good-bye once -more. Think no more of Carmencita, or she might be the cause of your -marrying a widow with wooden legs.’[27] - -“As she spoke she removed the bar that secured the door, and once in -the street, she wrapped herself in her mantilla and turned her back on -me. - -“She spoke truly. I should have been wise to think no more of her; but -after that day on Rue de Candilejo, I could think of nothing else. I -walked about all day long, hoping to meet her. I asked the old woman -and the eating-house keeper for news of her. Both replied that she -had gone to Laloro,[28] which was their way of designating Portugal. -Probably they said that in accordance with Carmen’s instructions, but I -very soon found out that they lied. Several weeks after my day on Rue -de Candilejo, I was on duty at one of the gates of the city. A short -distance from the gate there was a breach in the wall; men were at work -repairing it during the day, and at night a sentinel was posted there -to prevent smuggling. During the day I saw Lillas Pastia going to and -fro around the guard-house, and talking with some of my comrades; all -of them knew him, and they knew his fish and his fritters even better. -He came to me and asked me if I had heard from Carmen. - -“‘No,’ said I. - -“‘Well, you will, _compadre_.’ - -“He was not mistaken. At night I was stationed at the breach. As soon -as the corporal had retired, I saw a woman coming towards me. My heart -told me that it was Carmen. However, I shouted: - -“‘Go back! You cannot pass!’ - -“‘Don’t be disagreeable,’ she said, showing me her face. - -“‘What! is it you, Carmen?’ - -“‘Yes, my countryman. Let us talk a little and talk quick. Do you want -to earn a _douro_? There are some men coming with bundles; let them -alone.’ - -“‘No,’ I replied. ‘I must prevent them from passing; those are my -orders.’ - -“‘Orders! orders! So you’ve forgotten the Rue de Candilejo?’ - -“‘Ah!’ I exclaimed, completely overwhelmed by the bare memory of that -day, ‘that would be well worth the penalty of forgetting orders; but I -want no smugglers’ money.’ - -“‘Well, if you don’t want money, would you like to go again to old -Dorothy’s and dine?’ - -“‘No,’ I said, half suffocated by the effort it cost me, ‘I cannot.’ - -“‘Very good. If you are so stiff-backed, I know whom to apply to. I -will go to your officer and offer to go to Dorothy’s with him. He looks -like a good fellow, and he will put some man on duty here who will see -no more than he ought to see. Farewell, Canary. I shall laugh with all -my heart on the day when the orders are to hang you.’ - -“I was weak enough to call her back, and I promised to allow all -gypsydom to pass, if necessary, provided that I obtained the only -reward that I desired. She instantly swore to keep her word on the -next day, and hastened away to notify her friends, who were close by. -There were five of them,--Pastia was one--all well laden with English -goods. Carmen kept watch. She was to give warning with her castanets -the instant that she saw the patrol; but she did not need to do it. The -smugglers did their work in an instant. - -“The next day I went to Rue de Candilejo. Carmen kept me waiting, and -when she came she was in a villainous temper. - -“‘I don’t like people who make you ask them so many times,’ she said. -‘You did me a very great service the first time, without knowing -whether you would gain anything by it. Yesterday, you bargained with -me. I don’t know why I came, for I don’t love you any more. Here, take -this _douro_ for your trouble.’ - -“I was within an ace of throwing the money at her head, and I was -obliged to make a violent effort over myself to keep from striking -her. After we had quarrelled for an hour, I left the house in a rage. -I wandered about the city a long while, tramping hither and thither -like a madman; at last I entered a church, and, seeking out the darkest -corner, wept scalding tears. Suddenly I heard a voice: - -“‘A dragoon’s tears! I must make a love-philtre of them!’ - -“I raised my eyes; Carmen stood in front of me. - -“‘Well, my countryman, are you still angry with me?’ she said. ‘It must -be that I love you, in spite of what I know of you, for since you left -me, I don’t know what is the matter with me. See, I am the one now who -asks you to come to Rue de Candilejo.’ - -“So we made our peace; but Carmen’s moods were like the weather in our -country. Among our mountains a storm is never so near as when the sun -shines brightest. She promised to meet me again at Dorothy’s, and she -did not come. And Dorothy told me coolly that she had gone to Laloro on -business of Egypt. - -“As I knew already from experience what to think on that subject, I -sought Carmen wherever I thought that she could possibly be, and I -passed through Rue de Candilejo twenty times a day. One evening I was -at Dorothy’s, having almost tamed her by treating her now and then to a -glass of anisette, when Carmen came in, followed by a young officer, a -lieutenant in our regiment. - -“‘Off with you, quick,’ she said to me in Basque. - -“I sat as if stupefied, with rage in my heart. - -“‘What are you doing here?’ the lieutenant asked me; ‘decamp, leave -this house!’ - -“I could not take a step; I was like a man who has lost the use of his -limbs. The officer, seeing that I did not withdraw, and that I had not -even removed my forage cap, lost his temper, seized me by the collar, -and shook me roughly. I do not know what I said to him. He drew his -sword, and I my sabre. The old woman grasped my arm, and the lieutenant -struck me a blow on the forehead, the mark of which I still bear. I -stepped back and knocked Dorothy down with a blow of my elbow; then, -as the lieutenant followed me, I held the point of my sabre to his -breast, and he spitted himself on it. Thereupon Carmen put out the -lamp and told Dorothy in her language to fly. I myself rushed out into -the street and started to run, I knew not whither. It seemed to me -that some one was following me. When I came to my senses, I found that -Carmen had not left me. - -“‘You great idiot of a canary!’ she exclaimed; ‘you can’t do anything -but make a fool of yourself! I told you, you know, that I should bring -you bad luck. Well! there’s a cure for everything when one has for -one’s friend a Roman Fleming.[29] First of all, put this handkerchief -on your head, and toss me that belt. Wait for me in this passage. I -will return in two minutes.’ - -“She disappeared, and soon brought me a striped cloak, which she had -obtained heaven knows where. She bade me take off my uniform and put -on the cloak over my shirt. Thus attired, with the handkerchief with -which she had bound up the wound on my head, I looked not unlike a -peasant from Valencia, so many of whom came to Seville to sell their -_chufas_[30] orgeat. Then she took me into a house much like Dorothy’s, -at the end of a narrow lane. She and another gypsy washed me and -dressed my wound better than any surgeon could have done, and gave me -something, I don’t know what, to drink; finally, they laid me on a -mattress, and I went to sleep. - -“Probably those women had mingled with my drink one of those soporific -drugs of which they know the secret, for I did not wake until very late -the next day. I had a terrible headache and a little fever. It was -some time before I remembered the terrible scene in which I had taken -part the night before. After dressing my wound, Carmen and her friend, -both squatting beside my mattress, exchanged a few words of _chipe -calli_, which seemed to be a medical consultation. Then they united in -assuring me that I should soon be cured, but that I must leave Seville -at the earliest possible moment; for, if I should be caught, I would -inevitably be shot. - -“‘My boy,’ said Carmen, ‘you must do something. Now that the king gives -you neither rice nor dried fish,[31] you must think about earning -your living. You are too stupid to steal _à pastesas_[32]; but you -are strong and active; if you have any pluck, go to the coast and be -a smuggler. Haven’t I promised to be the cause of your being hung? -That’s better than being shot? However, if you go about it the right -way you will live like a prince as long as the _miñons_[33] and the -coast-guards don’t get their hands on your collar.’ - -“In this engaging way did that diabolical girl point out to me the new -career for which she destined me, the only one, to tell the truth, -which remained open to me, now that I had incurred the death penalty. -Need I tell you, señor? she prevailed upon me without much difficulty. -It seemed to me that I should become more closely united to her by that -life of perils and of rebellion. Thenceforth I felt that I was sure -of her love. I had often heard of a band of smugglers who infested -Andalusia, mounted on good horses, blunderbuss in hand, and their -mistresses _en croupe_. I imagined myself trotting over mountain and -valley with the pretty gypsy behind me. When I spoke to her about -it she laughed until she held her sides, and told me that there was -nothing so fine as a night in camp, when every _rom_ retires with -his _romi_ under the little tent formed of three hoops with canvas -stretched over them. - -“‘If I ever have you in the mountains,’ I said to her, ‘I shall be sure -of you! There, there are no lieutenants to share with me.’ - -“‘Oh! you are jealous,’ she replied. ‘So much the worse for you! Are -you really stupid enough for that? Don’t you see that I love you, as I -have never asked you for money?’ - -“When she talked like that I felt like strangling her. - -“To cut it short, señor, Carmen procured a civilian’s costume for me -in which I left Seville without being recognised. I went to Jerez -with a letter from Pastia to a dealer in anisette, whose house was -a rendezvous for smugglers. There I was presented to those gentry, -whose leader, one Dancaïre, took me into his troop. We started for -Gaucin, where I found Carmen, who had agreed to meet me there. In our -expeditions she served us as a spy, and a better spy there never was. -She was returning from Gibraltar and she had already arranged with the -master of a vessel to bring a cargo of English goods which we were to -receive on the coast. We went to Estepona to wait for it, and concealed -a portion in the mountains. Then, laden with the rest, we journeyed to -Ronda. Carmen had preceded us thither, and it was she who let us know -the opportune moment to enter the town. That first trip and several -succeeding ones were fortunate. The smuggler’s life pleased me better -than that of a soldier. I made presents to Carmen; I had money and a -mistress. I suffered little from remorse, for, as the gypsies say: -‘The scab does not itch when one is enjoying one’s self.’ We were well -received everywhere; my companions treated me well, and even showed me -much consideration. The reason was that I had killed a man, and there -were some among them who had not such an exploit on their consciences. -But what appealed to me most strongly in my new life was that I saw -Carmen often. She was more affectionate with me than ever; but before -our comrades she would not admit that she was my mistress; and she -had even made me swear all sorts of oaths never to say anything about -her. I was so weak before that creature that I obeyed all her whims. -Moreover, it was the first time that she had exhibited herself to -me with the reserve of a virtuous woman, and I was simple enough to -believe that she had really corrected herself of her former manners. - -“Our troop, which consisted of eight or ten men, seldom met except -at critical moments; ordinarily we were scattered about by twos and -threes, in different towns and villages. Each of us claimed to have -a trade; one was a tinker, another a horse-dealer; I was a silk -merchant, but I seldom showed my face in the large places because of my -unfortunate affair at Seville. - -“One day, or rather one night, our rendezvous was at the foot of Veger. -Dancaïre and I arrived there before the rest. He seemed in very high -spirits. - -“‘We are going to have another comrade,’ he said. ‘Carmen has just -played one of her best tricks. She has managed the escape of her _rom_, -who was at the presidio at Tarifa.’ - -“I was already beginning to understand the gypsy tongue, which almost -all my comrades spoke, and that word _rom_ gave me a shock. - -“‘What’s that? her husband! is she married?’ I asked the captain. - -“‘Yes,’ he replied, ‘to Garcia the One-Eyed, a gypsy, as sharp as -herself. The poor fellow was at the galleys. Carmen bamboozled the -surgeon at the presidio so successfully that she has obtained her -_rom’s_ liberty. Ah! that girl is worth her weight in gold. For two -years she has been trying to manage his escape. Every scheme failed -until they took it into their heads to change surgeons. With the new -one she seems to have found a way to come to an understanding very -soon.’ - -“You can imagine the pleasure that that news afforded me. I soon saw -Garcia the One-Eyed; he was surely the most loathsome monster that -ever gypsydom reared; black of skin, and blacker of heart, he was the -most unblushing villain that I have ever met in my life. Carmen came -with him; and when she called him her _rom_ in my presence, you should -have seen the eyes she made at me and her grimaces when Garcia turned -his head. I was angry, and I did not speak to her that night. In the -morning we had made up our bales and were already on the march, when -we discovered that a dozen horsemen were at our heels. The braggart -Andalusians, who talked of nothing but massacring everybody, made a -most pitiful show. It was a general save himself who could. Dancaïre, -Garcia, a handsome fellow from Ecija whom we called the Remendado, and -Carmen, did not lose their heads. The rest had abandoned the mules, and -had plunged into the ravines, where horses could not follow them. We -could not keep our animals, and we hastily unpacked the best of our -booty and loaded it on our shoulders, then tried to escape down the -steep slopes of the cliffs. We threw our bundles before us and slid -down on our heels after them as best we could. Meanwhile the enemy were -peppering us; it was the first time that I had ever heard the whistle -of bullets, and it didn’t affect me very much. When one is under the -eye of a woman, there is no merit in laughing at death. We escaped, all -except the poor Remendado, who received a shot in the loins. I dropped -my bundle and tried to carry him. - -“‘Fool!’ shouted Garcia, ‘what have we to do with carrion? Finish him -and don’t lose the stockings!’ - -“‘Drop him!’ Carmen called to me. - -“Fatigue forced me to place him on the ground a moment, behind a rock. -Garcia stepped up and discharged his blunderbuss at his head. - -“‘It will be a clever man who will recognise him now,’ he said, -glancing at his face, which was torn to shreds by a dozen bullets. - -“Such, señor, was the noble life I led. That night we found ourselves -in a copse, utterly worn out and ruined by the loss of our mules. -What does that infernal Garcia do but pull a pack of cards from his -pocket and begin to play with Dancaïre by the light of a fire which -they kindled. Meanwhile I had lain down and was gazing at the stars, -thinking of the Remendado and saying to myself that I would rather be -in his place. Carmen was sitting near me, and from time to time she -played with the castanets and sang under her breath. Then, drawing -nearer as if to speak to me, she kissed me, almost against my will, two -or three times. - -“‘You are the devil!’ I said to her. - -“‘Yes,’ she replied. - -“After a few hours’ rest she started for Gaucin, and the next day a -young goatherd brought us food. We remained there the whole day, and -at night went in the direction of Gaucin. We expected to hear from -Carmen. No one appeared. At daybreak we saw a muleteer conducting a -well-dressed woman with a parasol, and a small girl who seemed to be -her servant. Garcia said: - -“‘Here’s two mules and two women sent to us by Saint Nicholas; I should -rather have four mules; but no matter, I’ll make the best of it.’ - -“He took his blunderbuss and crept down toward the path, keeping out -of sight in the underbrush. We followed him, Dancaïre and I, at a -short distance. When we were within arm’s length we showed ourselves -and called to the muleteer to stop. The woman when she saw us, instead -of being frightened--and our costumes were quite enough to frighten -her--shouted with laughter. - -“‘Ha! ha! the _lillipendi_, to take me for an _erani_!’[34] - -“It was Carmen, but so perfectly disguised that I should not have -recognised her if she had spoken a different tongue. She jumped down -from her mule and talked for some time in a low tone with Dancaïre and -Garcia, then said to me: - -“‘We shall meet again, Canary, before you’re hung. I am going to -Gibraltar on business of Egypt. You will hear of me soon.’ - -“We parted, after she had told us of a place where we could obtain -shelter for a few days. That girl was the Providence of our party. We -soon received some money which she sent us, and some information which -was worth much more to us; it was to the effect that on such a day two -English noblemen would leave Gibraltar for Grenoble by such a road. -A word to the wise is sufficient. They had a store of good guineas. -Garcia wanted to kill them, but Dancaïre and I objected. We took only -their money and watches, in addition to their shirts, of which we were -in sore need. - -“Señor, a man becomes a rascal without thinking of it. A pretty girl -steals your wits, you fight for her, an accident happens, you have to -live in the mountains, and from a smuggler you become a robber before -you know it. We considered that it was not healthy for us in the -neighbourhood of Gibraltar, after the affair of the noblemen, and we -buried ourselves in the Sierra de Ronda. You once mentioned José Maria -to me; well, it was there that I made his acquaintance. He took his -mistress on his expeditions. She was a pretty girl, clean and modest -and well-mannered; never an indecent word, and such devotion. As a -reward, he made her very unhappy. He was always running after women, he -maltreated her, and sometimes he took it into his head to pretend to be -jealous. Once he struck her with a knife. Well, she loved him all the -better for it. Women are made like that, especially the Andalusians. -She was proud of the scar she had on her arm, and showed it as the -most beautiful thing in the world. And then José Maria was the worst -kind of a comrade, to boot. In an expedition that we made together, he -managed matters so well that he had all the profit, we all the blows -and trouble. But I resume my story. We heard nothing at all from Carmen. - -“‘One of us must go to Gibraltar to find out something about her,’ said -Dancaïre; ‘she should have arranged some affair for us. I would go, but -I am too well known at Gibraltar.’ - -“The One-Eyed said: - -“‘So am I too; everybody knows me there, and I’ve played so many games -on the lobsters[35]! and as I have only one eye, I am hard to disguise.’ - -“‘Shall I go then?’ said I in my turn, overjoyed at the bare thought of -seeing Carmen again; ‘tell me, what must I do?’ - -“The others said to me: - -“‘Arrange it so as to go by sea or by San Roque, as you choose; and -when you get to Gibraltar, ask at the harbour where a chocolate seller -called Rollona lives; when you have found her, you can learn from her -what’s going on yonder.’ - -“It was agreed that we three should go together to the Sierra de -Gaucin, where I was to leave my companions and go on to Gibraltar in -the guise of a dealer in fruit. At Ronda, a man who was in our pay -had procured me a passport; at Gaucin they gave me a donkey; I loaded -him with oranges and melons, and started. When I reached Gibraltar, I -found that Rollona was well known there, but that she was dead or had -gone _to the ends of the earth_,[36] and her disappearance explained, -in my opinion, the loss of our means of correspondence with Carmen. I -put my donkey in a stable, and, taking my oranges, I walked about the -city as if to sell them, but in reality to see if I could not meet -some familiar face. There are quantities of riff-raff there from all -the countries on earth, and it is like the Tower of Babel, for you -cannot take ten steps on any street without hearing as many different -languages. I saw many gypsies, but I hardly dared to trust them; I -sounded them and they sounded me. We divined that we were villains; -the important point was to know whether we belonged to the same band. -After two days of fruitless going to and fro, I had learned nothing -concerning Rollona or Carmen, and was thinking of returning to my -comrades after making a few purchases, when, as I passed through a -street at sunset, I heard a woman’s voice calling to me from a window: -‘Orange-man!’ I looked up and saw Carmen on a balcony, leaning on the -rail with an officer in red, gold epaulets, curly hair--the whole -outfit of a great noble. She too was dressed magnificently: a shawl -over her shoulders, a gold comb, and her dress all silk; and the saucy -minx--always the same!--was laughing so that she held her sides. The -Englishman called to me in broken Spanish to come up, that the señora -wanted some oranges; and Carmen said in Basque: - -“‘Come up, and don’t be surprised at anything.’ - -“In truth nothing was likely to surprise me on her part. I do not know -whether I felt more joy or grief at seeing her again. There was a tall -English servant with powdered hair, at the door, who ushered me into a -gorgeous salon. Carmen instantly said to me in Basque: - -“‘You don’t know a word of Spanish; you don’t know me.’ Then, turning -to the Englishman: ‘I told you I recognised him at once as a Basque; -you will hear what a strange tongue it is. What a stupid look he has, -hasn’t he? One would take him for a cat caught in a pantry.’ - -“‘And you,’ I said to her in my language, ‘have the look of a -brazen-faced slut, and I am tempted to slash your face before your -lover.’ - -“‘My lover!’ she said; ‘did you really guess that all by yourself? And -you are jealous of this simpleton? You are more of a fool than you -were before our evenings in Rue de Candilejo. Don’t you see, blockhead -that you are, that I am doing the business of Egypt at this moment, and -in the most brilliant fashion too? This house is mine, the lobster’s -guineas will be mine; I lead him by the end of the nose, and I will -lead him to a place he will never come out of.’ - -“‘And I,’ I said, ‘if you go on doing the business of Egypt in this -way, I will see to it that you won’t do it again.’ - -“‘Ah! indeed! Are you my _rom_, to give me orders? The One-Eyed thinks -it’s all right, what business is it of yours? Oughtn’t you to be -content to be the only man who can say that he’s my _minchorrò?_’[37] - -“‘What does he say?’ asked the Englishman. - -“‘He says that he is thirsty and would like to drink a glass,’ Carmen -replied. - -“And she threw herself on a couch, roaring with laughter at her -translation. - -“When that girl laughed, señor, it was impossible to talk sense. -Everybody laughed with her. The tall Englishman began to laugh too, -like the fool that he was, and ordered something to be brought for me -to drink. - -“While I was drinking: - -“‘Do you see that ring he has on his finger?’ she asked me; ‘I will -give it to you if you want.’ - -“I replied: - -“‘I would give a finger to have your lord on the mountains, each of us -with a _maquila_ in his hand.’ - -“‘_Maquila_--what does that mean?’ asked the Englishman. - -“‘_Maquila_,’ said Carmen, still laughing, ‘is an orange. Isn’t that a -curious word for orange? He says that he would like to give you some -_maquila_ to eat.’ - -“‘Yes?’ said the Englishman. ‘Well! bring some _maquila_ to-morrow.’ - -“While we were talking, the servant entered and said that dinner was -ready. Thereupon the Englishman rose, gave me a piastre and offered -Carmen his arm, as if she could not walk alone. Carmen, still laughing, -said to me: - -“‘I can’t invite you to dinner, my boy; but to-morrow, as soon as you -hear the drums beating for the parade, come here with some oranges. You -will find a room better furnished than the one on Rue de Candilejo, and -you will see whether I am still your Carmencita. And then we will talk -about the business of Egypt.’ - -“I made no reply, and after I was in the street I heard the Englishman -calling after me: - -“‘Bring some _maquila_ to-morrow!’ and I heard Carmen’s shouts of -laughter. - -“I went out, having no idea what I should do. I slept little, and in -the morning I found myself so enraged with that traitress that I had -resolved to leave Gibraltar without seeing her; but at the first beat -of the drum all my courage deserted me; I took my bag of oranges and -hurried to Carmen. Her blinds were partly open, and I saw her great -black eye watching me. The powdered servant ushered me in at once; -Carmen gave him an errand to do, and as soon as we were alone she burst -out with one of her shouts of crocodile laughter and threw herself -on my neck. I had never seen her so lovely. Arrayed like a Madonna, -perfumed--silk-covered furniture, embroidered hangings--ah!--and I, -dressed like the highwayman that I was! - -“‘_Minchorrò!_’ said Carmen, ‘I have a mind to smash everything here, -to set fire to the house, and fly to the mountains!’ - -“And such caresses! and such laughter! and she danced, and she tore her -falbalas; never did monkey go through more antics, more deviltry, more -grimacing. When she had resumed her gravity: - -“‘Listen,’ she said, ‘let us talk of Egypt. I want him to take me to -Ronda, where I have a sister who’s a nun (a fresh outburst of laughter -here). We shall go by a place that I will let you know. Do you fall -upon him; strip him clean! The best way would be to finish him; but,’ -she added, with a diabolical smile which she assumed at certain times, -and no one had any desire to imitate that smile at such times,--‘do you -know what you must do? Let the One-Eyed appear first. Do you stay back -a little; the lobster is brave and a good shot; he has good pistols. Do -you understand?’ - -“She interrupted herself with a fresh burst of laughter that made me -shudder. - -“‘No,’ I said, ‘I hate Garcia, but he is my comrade. Some day, perhaps, -I will rid you of him, but we will settle our accounts after the -fashion of my country. I am a gypsy only by chance; and in certain -things I shall always be a downright Navarrese, as the proverb says.’ - -“She retorted: - -“‘You are a blockhead, a fool, a genuine _payllo_! You are like the -dwarf who thinks he’s tall when he can spit a long way. You don’t love -me--be off!’ - -“When she said ‘be off!’ I could not go. I promised to leave Gibraltar, -to return to my comrades and wait for the Englishman; she, on her side, -promised to be ill until it was time to leave Gibraltar for Ronda. I -stayed at Gibraltar two more days. She had the audacity to come to -see me at my inn, in disguise. I left the city; I, too, had my plan. -I returned to our rendezvous, knowing the place and hour when the -Englishman and Carmen were to pass. I found Dancaïre and Garcia waiting -for me. We passed the night in a wood beside a fire of pine cones, -which blazed finely. I proposed a game of cards to Garcia. He accepted. -In the second game I told him he was cheating; he began to laugh. I -threw the cards in his face. He tried to take his gun, but I put my -foot on it and said to him: ‘They say you can handle a knife like the -best _jaque_ in Malaga--will you try it with me?’ Dancaïre tried to -separate us. I had struck Garcia two or three times with my fist. Anger -made him brave; he drew his knife and I mine. We both told Dancaïre to -give us room and a fair field. He saw that there was no way of stopping -us, and he walked away. Garcia was bent double, like a cat on the point -of springing at a mouse. He held his hat in his left hand to parry, his -knife forward. That is the Andalusian guard. I took my stand Navarrese -fashion, straight in front of him, with the left arm raised, the left -leg forward, and the knife along the right thigh. I felt stronger than -a giant. He rushed on me like a flash; I turned on my left foot, and -he found nothing in front of him; but I caught him in the throat, and -my knife went in so far that my hand was under his chin. I twisted the -blade so sharply that it broke. That was the end. The knife came out of -the wound, forced by a stream of blood as big as your arm. He fell to -the ground as stiff as a stake. - -“‘What have you done?’ Dancaïre asked me. - -“‘Look you,’ said I; ‘we couldn’t live together. I love Carmen, and -I wish to be her only lover. Besides, Garcia was a villain, and I -remember what he did to poor Remendado. There are only two of us left, -but we are stout fellows. Tell me, do you want me for your friend, in -life or death?’ - -“Dancaïre gave me his hand. He was a man of fifty. - -“‘To the devil with love affairs!’ he cried. ‘If you had asked him for -Carmen, he’d have sold her to you for a piastre. There’s only two of us -now; how shall we manage to-morrow?’ - -“‘Let me do it all alone,’ I replied. ‘I snap my fingers at the whole -world now.’ - -“We buried Garcia and pitched our camp again two hundred yards away. -The next day Carmen and her Englishman passed, with two muleteers and a -servant. - -“I said to Dancaïre: - -“‘I will take care of the Englishman. Frighten the others--they are not -armed.’ - -“The Englishman had pluck. If Carmen had not struck his arm, he would -have killed me. To make my story short, I won Carmen back that day, and -my first words to her were to tell her that she was a widow. When she -learned how it had happened: - -“‘You will always be a _lillipendi_!’ she said. ‘Garcia ought to have -killed you. Your Navarrese guard is all folly, and he has put out the -light of better men than you. It means that his time had come. Yours -will come too.’ - -“‘And yours,’ I retorted, ‘unless you’re a true _romi_ to me.’ - -“‘All right,’ said she, ‘I’ve read more than once in coffee grounds -that we were to go together. Bah! let what is planted come up!’ - -“And she rattled her castanets, as she always did when she wished to -banish some unpleasant thought. - -“We forget ourselves when we are talking about ourselves. All these -details tire you, no doubt, but I shall soon be done. The life we were -then leading lasted quite a long time. Dancaïre and I associated with -ourselves several comrades who were more reliable than the former -ones, and we devoted ourselves to smuggling, and sometimes, I must -confess, we stopped people on the highroad, but only in the last -extremity and when we could not do otherwise. However, we did not -maltreat travellers, and we confined ourselves to taking their money. -For several months I had no fault to find with Carmen; she continued -to make herself useful in our operations, informing us of profitable -strokes of business we could do. She stayed sometimes at Malaga, -sometimes at Cordova, sometimes at Granada; but at a word from me, she -would leave everything and join me at some isolated tavern, or even in -our camp. Once only--it was at Malaga--she caused me some anxiety. I -knew that she had cast her spell upon a very rich merchant, with whom -she probably proposed to repeat the Gibraltar pleasantry. In spite of -all that Dancaïre could say, I left him and went to Malaga in broad -daylight; I sought Carmen and took her away at once. We had a sharp -explanation. - -“‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘that since you have been my _rom_ for good -and all I love you less than when you were my _minchorrò_? I don’t -choose to be tormented or, above all, to be ordered about! What I want -is to be free and to do what I please. Look out that you don’t drive me -too far. If you tire me out I will find some good fellow who will serve -you as you served the One-Eyed.’ - -“Dancaïre made peace between us; but we had said things to each -other that remained on our minds and we were no longer the same as -before. Soon after an accident happened to us. The troops surprised -us, Dancaïre was killed, and two more of my comrades; two others were -captured. I was seriously wounded and but for my good horse I should -have fallen into the soldiers’ hands. Worn out with fatigue, and with -a bullet in my body, I hid in some woods with the only comrade I had -left. I fainted when I dismounted, and I thought that I was going to -die in the underbrush like a wounded rabbit. My comrade carried me -to a cave that we knew, then he went in search of Carmen. She was at -Granada, and she instantly came to me. For a fortnight she did not -leave me a moment. She did not close an eye; she nursed me with a skill -and attention which no woman ever showed for the man she loved best. As -soon as I could stand she took me to Granada with the utmost secrecy. -Gypsies find sure places of refuge everywhere, and I passed more than -six weeks in a house within two doors of the corregidor who was looking -for me. More than once as I looked out from behind a shutter I saw him -pass. At last I was cured; but I had reflected deeply on my bed of pain -and I proposed to change my mode of life. I spoke to Carmen of leaving -Spain and of seeking an honest livelihood in the New World. She laughed -at me. - -“‘We were not made to plant cabbages,’ said she; ‘our destiny is -to live at the expense of the _payllos_. Look you, I have arranged -an affair with Nathan Ben-Joseph of Gibraltar. He has some cotton -stuffs that are only waiting for you, to pass the frontier. He knows -that you are alive. He is counting on you. What would our Gibraltar -correspondents say if you should go back on your word?’ - -“I allowed her to persuade me and I resumed my wretched trade. - -“While I was in hiding in Granada there were some bull-fights which -Carmen attended. When she returned she had much to say of a very -skilful picador named Lucas. She knew the name of his horse and how -much his embroidered jacket cost. I paid no attention to it. Juanito, -my last remaining comrade, told me some days later that he had seen -Carmen with Lucas in a shop on the Zacatin. That began to disturb me. -I asked Carmen how and why she had made the picador’s acquaintance. - -“‘He’s a fellow with whom one can do business,’ she said. ‘A river that -makes a noise has either water or stones. He won twelve hundred reals -in the bull-fights. One of two things must happen: either we must have -that money, or else, as he’s a good rider and a fellow of good pluck, -we must take him into our band. Such a one and such a one are dead and -you need some one in their places. Take him.’ - -“‘I don’t want either his money or his person,’ I said, ‘and I forbid -you to speak to him.’ - -“‘Beware!’ said she, ‘when any one defies me to do a thing it’s soon -done!’ - -“Luckily the picador left for Malaga, and I turned my attention to -bringing in the Jew’s bales of cotton. I had a great deal to do in that -affair, and so did Carmen; and I forgot Lucas; perhaps she forgot him, -too, for the moment at least. It was about that time, señor, that I met -you, first near Montilla, then at Cordova. I will say nothing about -our last interview. Perhaps you remember it better than I do. Carmen -stole your watch; she wanted your money, too, and above all, that ring -that I see on your finger, which, she said, was a magnificent ring, -which it was most important for her to own. We had a violent quarrel, -and I struck her. She turned pale and shed tears, and that produced -a terrible effect on me. I asked her to forgive me, but she sulked a -whole day, and, when I started to return to Montilla, she refused to -kiss me. My heart was very heavy, when, three days later, she came -to see me with a laughing face and gay as a lark. Everything was -forgotten, and we were like lovers of two days’ standing. At the moment -of parting, she said to me: - -“‘There’s to be a fête at Cordova; I am going to it, and I shall find -out what people are going away with money and let you know.’ - -“I let her go. When I was alone, I mused upon that fête and upon -Carmen’s change of humour. ‘She must have had her revenge already,’ I -thought, ‘as she was the first to make advances.’ A peasant told me -that there were bulls at Cordova. My blood began to boil, and like a -madman, I started for the city and went to the public square. Lucas was -pointed out to me, and on the bench next to the barrier, I recognised -Carmen. A single glance at her was enough to satisfy me. Lucas, when -the first bull appeared, played the gallant, as I had foreseen. He tore -the cockade[38] from the bull and carried it to Carmen, who instantly -put it in her hair. The bull took it upon himself to avenge me. Lucas -was thrown down, with his horse across his chest and the bull on top -of them both. I looked for Carmen; she was no longer in her seat. -It was impossible for me to leave the place where I was, and I was -compelled to wait until the end of the sports. Then I went to the house -that you know, and I lay in wait there all the evening and part of the -night. About two o’clock Carmen returned, and was rather surprised to -see me. - -“‘Come with me,’ I said to her. - -“‘All right!’ said she; ‘let us go.’ - -“I went for my horse and took her behind me, and we rode all the rest -of the night without exchanging a word. At daybreak we stopped at a -lonely _venta_, near a little hermitage. There I said to Carmen: - -“‘Listen; I will forget everything; I will never say a word to you -about anything that has happened; but promise me one thing--that you -will go to America with me and remain quietly there.’ - -“‘No,’ she said, sullenly, ‘I don’t want to go to America. I am very -well off here.’ - -“‘That is because you are near Lucas; but understand this, if he -recovers, he won’t live to have old bones. But, after all, why should I -be angry with him? I am tired of killing all your lovers; you are the -one I will kill.’ - -“She looked earnestly at me with that savage look of hers, and said: - -“‘I have always thought that you would kill me. The first time I saw -you, I had just met a priest at the door of my house. And that night -when we left Cordova, didn’t you see anything? A hare crossed the road -between your horse’s feet. It is written.’ - -“‘Carmen, don’t you love me any more?’ I asked her. - -“She made no reply. She was seated with her legs crossed, on a mat, and -making figures on the ground with her finger. - -“‘Let us change our mode of life, Carmen,’ I said to her in suppliant -tone. ‘Let us go somewhere to live where we shall never be parted. You -know, we have a hundred and twenty ounces buried under an oak, not far -from here. Then, too, we have funds in the Jew Ben-Joseph’s hands.’ - -“She smiled and said: - -“‘Me first, then you. I know that it is bound to happen so.’ - -“‘Reflect,’ I continued; ‘I am at the end of my patience and my -courage; make up your mind, or I shall make up mine.’ - -“I left her and walked in the direction of the hermitage. I found the -hermit praying. I waited until his prayer was at an end; I would have -liked to pray, but I could not. When he rose I went to him. - -“‘Father,’ I said, ‘will you say a prayer for some one who is in great -danger?’ - -“‘I pray for all who are afflicted,’ he said. - -“‘Can you say a mass for a soul which perhaps is soon to appear before -its Creator?’ - -“‘Yes,’ he replied, gazing fixedly at me. - -“And, as there was something strange in my manner, he tried to make me -talk. - -“‘It seems to me that I have seen you before,’ he said. - -“I placed a piastre on his bench. - -“‘When will you say the mass?’ I asked. - -“‘In half an hour. The son of the innkeeper yonder will come soon to -serve it. Tell me, young man, have you not something on your conscience -which torments you? Will you listen to the advice of a Christian?’ - -“I felt that I was on the point of weeping. I told him that I would -come again, and I hurried away. I lay down on the grass until I heard -the bell ring. Then I returned, but I remained outside the chapel. When -the mass was said, I returned to the _venta_. I hoped that Carmen would -have fled--she might have taken my horse and made her escape--but I -found her there. She did not propose that any one should say that I had -frightened her. During my absence she had ripped the hem of her dress, -to take out the lead. Now she was standing by a table, watching the -lead, which she had melted and had just thrown into a bowl filled with -water. She was so engrossed by her magic that she did not notice my -return at first. At one moment she would take up a piece of lead and -turn it in every direction with a melancholy air; then she would sing -one of those ballads of magic in which they invoke Maria Padilla, Don -Pedro’s mistress, who, they say, was the _Bari Crallisa_, or the great -queen of the gypsies.[39] - -“‘Carmen,’ I said, ‘will you come with me?’ - -“She rose, pushed her bowl away, and put her mantilla over her head, as -if ready to start. My horse was brought, she mounted behind me, and we -rode away. - -“‘So, my Carmen,’ I said, after we had ridden a little way, ‘you will -go with me, won’t you?’ - -“‘I will go with you to death, yes, but I won’t live with you any more.’ - -“We were in a deserted ravine; I stopped my horse. - -“‘Is this the place?’ she said. - -“And with one spring she was on the ground. She took off her mantilla, -dropped it at her feet, and stood perfectly still, with one hand on her -hip, looking me in the eye. - -“‘You mean to kill me, I can see that,’ she said; ‘it is written, but -you will not make me yield.’ - -“‘Be reasonable, I beg,’ I said to her. ‘Listen to me. All of the past -is forgotten. However, as you know, it was you who ruined me; it was -for your sake that I became a robber and a murderer. Carmen! my Carmen! -let me save you and myself with you.’ - -“‘José,’ she replied, ‘you ask something that is impossible. I no -longer love you; you do still love me, and that is the reason you -intend to kill me. I could easily tell you some lie; but I don’t choose -to take the trouble. All is over between us. As my _rom_, you have a -right to kill your _romi_; but Carmen will always be free. _Calli_ she -was born, _calli_ she will die.’ - -“‘Then you love Lucas?’ I demanded. - -“‘Yes, I did love him, as I loved you, for a moment--but less than I -loved you, I think. Now, I love nobody, and I hate myself for having -loved you.’ - -“I threw myself at her feet, I took her hands, I drenched them with -my tears. I reminded her of all the blissful moments we had passed -together. I offered to remain a brigand to please her. Everything, -señor, everything; I offered her everything, if only she would love me -again. - -“She said to me: - -“‘To love you again is impossible. I will not live with you.’ - -“Frenzy took possession of me. I drew my knife. I would have liked her -to show some fear and to beg for mercy, but that woman was a demon. - -“‘For the last time,’ I cried, ‘will you stay with me?’ - -“‘No! no! no!’ she replied, stamping the ground with her foot. - -“And she took from her finger a ring I had given her and threw it into -the underbrush. - -“I struck her twice. It was the One-Eyed’s knife, which I had taken, -having broken my own. She fell at the second stroke, without a sound. -I fancy that I still see her great black eye gazing at me; then it -grew dim and closed. I remained utterly crushed beside that corpse for -a long hour. Then I remembered that Carmen had often told me that she -would like to be buried in a wood. I dug a grave with my knife and laid -her in it. I hunted a long while for her ring and found it at last. I -placed it in the grave with her, also a small crucifix. Perhaps I did -wrong. Then I mounted my horse, galloped to Cordova, and gave myself -up at the first guard-house. I said that I had killed Carmen, but I -have refused to tell where her body is. The hermit was a holy man. He -prayed for her! He said a mass for her soul. Poor child! The _Cales_ -are guilty, for bringing her up so.” - - -IV - -Spain is one of those countries where we find to-day in the greatest -numbers those nomads who are scattered over all Europe, and are -known by the names of _Bohemians_, _Gitanos_, _Gypsies_, _Zigeuner_, -etc. Most of them live, or rather lead a wandering existence, in the -provinces of the south and east, in Andalusia, Estremadura, and the -kingdom of Murcia; there are many in Catalonia. These latter often -cross the frontier into France. They are to be seen at all the fairs -in the Midi. Ordinarily the men carry on the trades of horse-dealer, -veterinary, and clipper of mules; they combine therewith the industry -of mending kettles and copper implements, to say nothing of smuggling -and other illicit traffic. The women tell fortunes, beg, and sell all -sorts of drugs, innocent or not. - -The physical characteristics of the gypsy are easier to distinguish -than to describe, and when you have seen a single one, you can readily -pick out a person of that race from a thousand others. Features and -expression--these above all else separate them from the natives of -the countries where they are found. Their complexion is very dark, -always darker than that of the peoples among whom they live. Hence the -name _Cale_--black--by which they often refer to themselves. Their -eyes, which are perceptibly oblique, well-shaped, and very black, are -shaded by long, thick lashes. One can compare their look to nothing -save that of a wild beast. Audacity and timidity are depicted therein -at once, and in that respect their eyes express accurately enough -the character of the race--crafty, insolent, but _naturally afraid -of blows_, like Panurge. As a general rule, the men are well-knit, -slender, and active; I believe that I have never seen a single one -overburdened with flesh. In Germany, the gypsy women are often very -pretty; beauty is very rare among the _gitanas_ of Spain. When they are -very young, they may pass for rather attractive ugly women; but when -they have once become mothers, they are repulsive. The uncleanliness -of both sexes is beyond belief, and one who has never seen the hair -of a gypsy matron would find it hard to form an idea of it, even by -imagining it as like the coarsest, greasiest, dustiest horsehair. In -some large cities of Andalusia, some of the girls who are a little -more attractive than the rest take more care of their persons. They go -about dancing for money--dances very like those which are forbidden at -our (Parisian) public balls during the Carnival. M. Borrow, an English -missionary, the author of two very interesting works on the gypsies of -Spain, whom he had undertaken to convert at the expense of the Bible -Society, asserts that there is no known instance of a _gitana_ having -a weakness for a man not of her race. It seems to me that there is -much exaggeration in the eulogium which he bestows on their chastity. -In the first place, the great majority of them are in the plight of -Ovid’s ugly woman: _Casta quam nemo rogavit_. As for the pretty ones, -they are, like all Spanish women, exacting in the choice of their -lovers. A man must please them and deserve them. M. Borrow cites as a -proof of their virtue an instance which does honour to his own virtue, -and above all to his innocence. An immoral man of his acquaintance, -he says, offered several ounces of gold to a pretty _gitana_, to no -purpose. An Andalusian to whom I told this anecdote declared that -that same immoral man would have had better luck if he had shown only -two or three piastres, and that to offer ounces of gold to a gypsy -was as poor a way to persuade her as to promise a million or two to a -servant girl at an inn. However that may be, it is certain that the -_gitanas_ display a most extraordinary devotion to their husbands. -There is no peril or privation which they will not defy, in order to -assist them in their need. One of the names by which the gypsies call -themselves--_romi_ or _spouses_--seems to me to bear witness to the -respect of the race for the marriage state. In general, we may say that -their principal virtue is patriotism, if we may call by that name the -fidelity which they observe in their relations with persons of the same -origin as themselves, the zeal with which they help one another, and -the inviolable secrecy which they maintain in respect to compromising -affairs. Indeed, we may remark something similar in all associations -that are shrouded in mystery and are outside of the law. - -A few months ago, I visited a tribe of gypsies settled in the Vosges. -In the cabin of an old woman, the patriarch of the tribe, there was a -gypsy unknown to her family, suffering from a fatal disease. That man -had left a hospital, where he was well cared for, to die among his -compatriots. For thirteen weeks he had been in bed in the cabin of -his hosts, and much better treated than the sons and sons-in-law who -lived in the same house. He had a comfortable bed of straw and moss, -with reasonably white sheets, whereas the rest of the family, to the -number of eleven, slept on boards three feet long. So much for their -hospitality. The same woman who was so humane to her guest said in his -presence: “_Singo, singo, homte hi mulo.”_ “Before long, before long, -he must die.” After all, the life of those people is so wretched that -the certainty of death has no terrors for them. - -A remarkable feature of the gypsy character is their indifference in -the matter of religion. Not that they are atheists or skeptics. They -have never made profession of atheism. Far from that, they adopt the -religion of the country in which they live; but they change when they -change countries. The superstitions which among ignorant peoples -replace religious sentiments are equally foreign to them. Indeed, how -could superstition exist among people who, in most cases, live on the -credulity of others! I have observed, however, among Spanish gypsies, a -strange horror at the thought of touching a dead body. There are few of -them whom money could hire to carry a corpse to the cemetery. - -I have said that most gypsy women dabble in fortune-telling. They are -very skillful at it. But another thing that is a source of very great -profit to them is the sale of charms and love-philtres. Not only do -they keep frogs’ feet to fix fickle hearts, or powdered lodestone to -force the unfeeling to love; but at need they make potent conjurations -which compel the devil to lend them his aid. Last year a Spanish -woman told me the following story: She was passing one day along Rue -d’Alcala, sad and distraught, when a gypsy sitting on the sidewalk -called after her: “Your lover has been false to you, fair lady.”--It -was the truth.--“Do you want me to bring him back?”--You will imagine -how joyfully the offer was accepted, and what unbounded confidence -was naturally inspired by a person who could thus divine at a glance -the inmost secrets of the heart. As it would have been impossible to -proceed to magic rites in the most frequented street in Madrid, they -made an appointment for the morrow.--“Nothing easier than to bring -the unfaithful one back to your feet,” said the _gitana_. “Have you a -handkerchief, a scarf, or a mantilla that he has given you?”--The lady -gave her a silk handkerchief.--“Now sew a piastre into a corner of it, -with crimson silk; half a piastre into another; a _piecette_ here; a -two real piece here. Then you must sew a gold piece in the centre; a -doubloon would be best.”--The doubloon and the rest were duly sewn -into the handkerchief.--“Now, give it to me; I will take it to the -Campo-Santo when the clock strikes twelve. Come with me, if you want -to see some fine deviltry. I promise you that you will see the man you -love to-morrow.”--The gypsy started alone for the Campo-Santo, for the -lady was too much afraid of the devils to accompany her. I leave you to -guess whether the poor love-lorn creature saw her handkerchief or her -faithless lover again. - -Despite their poverty and the sort of aversion which they inspire, the -gypsies enjoy a certain consideration none the less among unenlightened -peoples, and they are very proud of it. They feel a haughty contempt -for intelligence, and cordially despise the people who give them -hospitality. “The Gentiles are such fools,” said a gypsy of the Vosges -to me one day, “that there’s no merit in tricking them. The other day -a peasant woman called to me on the street, and I went into her house. -Her stove was smoking, and she asked me for a spell, to make it burn. -I told her to give me first of all a big piece of pork. Then I mumbled -a few words in _rommani_. ‘You are a fool,’ I said, ‘you were born a -fool, a fool you will die.’--When I was at the door, I said to her in -good German: ‘The infallible way to keep your stove from smoking is not -to make any fire in it.’--And I ran off at full speed.” - -The history of the gypsies is still a problem. To be sure, we know that -the first bands of them, very small in numbers, showed themselves in -the east of Europe early in the fifteenth century; but no one can say -whence they came to Europe, or why; and, which is more extraordinary, -we have no idea how they multiplied so prodigiously, in a short time, -in several countries at a great distance from one another. The gypsies -themselves have preserved no tradition concerning their origin, and, -although most of them speak of Egypt as their original fatherland, it -is because they have adopted a fable that was spread abroad concerning -them many, many years ago. - -Most Orientalists who have studied the gypsy language believe that they -came originally from India. In fact, it seems that a great number of -the roots of the _rommani_ tongue and many of its grammatical forms -are found in phrases derived from the Sanskrit. We can understand -that, in their long wanderings, the gypsies may have adopted many -foreign words. In all the dialects of the _rommani_, we find many -Greek words. For example: _cocal_, bone, from κόκκαλον; _petalli_, -horseshoe, from πέταλον; _cafi_, nail, from καρφί, etc. To-day, the -gypsies have almost as many different dialects as there are bands of -their race living apart from one another. Everywhere they speak the -language of the country in which they live more readily than their -own, which they seldom use except as a means of speaking freely before -strangers. If we compare the dialect of the gypsies of Germany with -that of the Spaniards, who have had no communication with the former -for centuries, we discover a very great number of words common to the -two; but the original tongue has been noticeably modified everywhere, -although in different degrees, by the contact with the more cultivated -tongues, which these nomads have been constrained to employ. German -on the one side, Spanish on the other, have so modified the substance -of the _rommani_ that it would be impossible for a gypsy of the Black -Forest to converse with one of his Andalusian brethren, although they -need only exchange a few sentences to realise that each of them is -speaking a dialect derived from the same parent tongue. A few words in -very frequent use are common, I believe, to all dialects; for instance, -in all the vocabularies which I have had an opportunity to see, _pani_ -means water, _manro_, bread, _mas_, meat, and _lon_, salt. - -The names of the numbers are almost the same everywhere. The German -dialect seems to me much purer than the Spanish; for it has retained -a number of the primitive grammatical forms, while the _gitanos_ -have adopted those of the Castilian tongue. A few words, however, -are exceptions to this rule and attest the former community of the -dialects. The preterit tenses in the German dialect are formed by -adding _ium_ to the imperative, which is always the root of the verb. -The verbs in the Spanish _rommani_ are all conjugated like Castilian -verbs of the first conjugation. From the infinitive _jamar_, to eat, -they regularly make _jamé_, I have eaten; from _lillar_, to take, -_lillé_, I have taken. But some old gypsies say, on the other hand, -_jayon_, _lillon_. I know no other verbs which have retained this -ancient form. - -While I am thus parading my slight acquaintance with the _rommani_ -tongue, I must note a few words of French argot, which our thieves -have borrowed from the gypsies. The _Mystères de Paris_ has taught -good society that _chourin_ means knife. The word is pure _rommani_; -_tchouri_ is one of the words common to all the dialects. M. Vidocq -calls a horse _grès_--that is another _rommani_ word--_gras_, _gre_, -_graste_, _gris_. Add the word _romanichel_, which in Parisian -slang means gypsies. It is a corruption of _rommane tchave_, gypsy -youths. But an etymology of which I am proud is that of _frimousse_, -expression, face--a word which all schoolboys use, or did use in my -day. Observe first that Oudin, in his curious dictionary, wrote in 1640 -_firlimouse_. Now, _firla_, _fila_, in _rommani_ means face; _mui_ -has the same meaning, it exactly corresponds to the Latin _os_. The -combination _firlamui_ was instantly understood by a gypsy purist, and -I believe it to be in conformity with the genius of his language. - -This is quite enough to give the readers of _Carmen_ a favourable idea -of my studies in _rommani_. I will close with this proverb, which is -quite apropos: _En retudi panda nasti abela macha_--“a fly cannot enter -a closed mouth.” - - 1845. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] The Andalusians aspirate the _s_, and in pronunciation confound it -with _c_ soft and _z_, which the Spaniards pronounce like the English -_th_. It is possible to recognise an Andalusian by the one word _señor_. - -[2] That is, the _privileged provinces_, which enjoy special _fueros_, -namely, Alava, Biscay, Guipuzcoa, and a part of Navarre. Basque is the -language spoken in those provinces. - -[3] A café provided with an ice-house, or rather with a store of snow. -There is hardly a village in Spain which has not its _neveria_. - -[4] In Spain every traveller who does not carry about with him -specimens of calico or silk is taken for an Englishman, _Inglesito_. It -is the same in the East; at Chalcis I had the honour of being announced -as a Μιλὸρδος Φραντσέοος. - -[5] Fortune. - -[6] In 1830 the nobility alone enjoyed that privilege. To-day (1847) -under the constitutional _régime_, the plebeians have obtained the -privilege of the _garrote_. - -[7] Ironshod staves carried by the Basques. - -[8] The magistrate at the head of the police and municipal -administration. - -[9] The ordinary costume of the peasant women of Navarre and the Basque -provinces. - -[10] Yes, sir. - -[11] Enclosure, garden. - -[12] Bravoes, bullies. - -[13] All the Spanish cavalry are armed with lances. - -[14] Alcala de los Panaderos, a hamlet two leagues from Seville, where -they make delicious small loaves. It is claimed that their excellence -is due to the water of Alcala, and great quantities of them are taken -to Seville daily. - -[15] Good-day, comrade. - -[16] Most of the houses in Seville have an interior courtyard -surrounded by porticos. The inhabitants live there in summer. The -courtyard is covered with canvas, which is kept wet during the day and -removed at night. The gate into the street is almost always open, and -the passage leading into the courtyard is closed by an iron gate of -elaborate workmanship. - -[17] _Mañana sera otro dia._--A Spanish proverb. - -[18] A gypsy proverb. - -[19] Sugared yolks of eggs. - -[20] A kind of nougat. - -[21] King Don Pedro, whom we call the _Cruel_, but whom Isabella -the Catholic always called the _Justiciary_, loved to walk the -streets of Seville at night in search of adventures, like the -Caliph Haroun-al-Raschid. On a certain night he had a quarrel in an -out-of-the-way street with a man who was giving a serenade. They fought -and the king slew the love-lorn knight. Hearing the clash of swords, -an old woman put her head out of a window and lighted up the scene -with a small lamp (_candilejo_) which she held in her hand. You must -know that King Don Pedro, who was very active and powerful, had one -physical peculiarity: his knees cracked loudly when he walked. The old -woman had no difficulty in recognising him by means of that cracking. -The next day the Twenty-four who was on duty came to the king to make -his report. “Sire, there was a duel last night on such a street. One -of the combatants was killed.” “Have you discovered the murderer?” -“Yes, sire.” “Why is he not punished before now?” “I await your orders, -sire.” “Carry out the law.” Now the king had recently issued a decree -providing that every duellist should be beheaded, and that his head -should be exposed on the battle-field. The Twenty-four extricated -himself from the dilemma like a man of wit. He caused the head of a -statue of the king to be sawed off, and exposed it in a recess in the -middle of the street where the murder had taken place. The king and all -the good people of Seville thought it an excellent joke. The street -took its name from the lamp of the old woman, who was the sole witness -of the adventure. Such is the popular tradition. Zuñiga tells the story -a little differently. (See _Anales de Sevilla_, vol. ii., p. 136.) -However, there is still a Rue de Candilejo in Seville, and in that -street a stone bust said to be a portrait of Don Pedro. Unfortunately -the bust is a modern affair. The old one was sadly defaced in the -seventeenth century, and the municipal government caused it to be -replaced by the one we see to-day. - -[22] _Rom_, husband; _romi_, wife. - -[23] _Calo_; feminine _calli_; plural _cales_. Literally _black_--the -name by which the gypsies call themselves in their own tongue. - -[24] The Spanish dragoons wear a yellow uniform. - -[25] A gypsy proverb. - -[26] Saint--the Blessed Virgin. - -[27] The gallows, supposed to be the widow of the last man hanged. - -[28] The red (land). - -[29] _Flamenço de Roma_--a slang term to designate a gypsy. _Roma_ does -not mean here the Eternal City, but the race of _Romi_, or married -folk, a name which the gypsies assume. The first that were seen in -Spain probably came from the Low Countries, whence the designation -_Flemings_. - -[30] A bulbous root of which a very pleasant drink is made. - -[31] The ordinary rations of the Spanish soldier. - -[32] That is, with address, and without violence. - -[33] A sort of unattached body of troops. - -[34] The idiots, to take me for a swell! - -[35] A name which the common people in Spain give to the English, on -account of the colour of their uniform. - -[36] That is to say, to the galleys, or to all the devils. - -[37] My lover, or rather, my fancy. - -[38] _La divisa_, a bow of ribbon, the colour of which indicates the -place from which the bull comes. This bow is fastened in the bull’s -hide by a hook, and it is the very climax of gallantry to tear it from -the living animal and present it to a woman. - -[39] Maria Padilla has been accused of having bewitched King Don Pedro. -A popular tradition says that she presented to Queen Blanche de Bourbon -a golden girdle, which seemed to the fascinated eyes of the king a -living serpent. Hence the repugnance which he always displayed for the -unfortunate princess. - - - - -The Taking of the Redoubt - - -A military friend of mine, who died of a fever in Greece a few years -ago, told me one day about the first action in which he took part. His -story made such an impression on me that I wrote it down from memory as -soon as I had time. Here it is: - -I joined the regiment on the fourth of September, in the evening. I -found the colonel in camp. He received me rather roughly; but when he -had read General B----’s recommendation, his manner changed and he said -a few courteous words to me. - -I was presented by him to my captain, who had just returned from a -reconnaissance. This captain, with whom I hardly had time to become -acquainted, was a tall, dark man, with a harsh, repellent face. He -had been a private and had won his epaulets and his cross on the -battle-field. His voice, which was hoarse and weak, contrasted -strangely with his almost gigantic stature. I was told that he owed -that peculiar voice to a bullet which had passed through his lungs at -the battle of Jena. - -When he learned that I was fresh from the school at Fontainebleau, he -made a wry face and said: - -“My lieutenant died yesterday.” - -I understood that he meant to imply: “You ought to take his place, and -you are not capable of it.” - -A sharp retort came to my lips, but I restrained myself. - -The moon rose behind the redoubt of Cheverino, about two gunshots from -our bivouac. It was large and red, as it usually is when it rises. But -on that evening it seemed to me of extraordinary size. For an instant -the redoubt stood sharply out in black against the brilliant disk of -the moon. It resembled the crater of a volcano at the instant of an -eruption. - -An old soldier beside whom I happened to be, remarked upon the colour -of the moon. - -“It is very red,” said he; “that’s a sign that it will cost us dear to -take that famous redoubt!” - -I have always been superstitious, and that prophecy, at that particular -moment especially, affected me. I lay down, but I could not sleep. I -rose and walked about for some time, watching the tremendously long -line of camp-fires that covered the heights above the village of -Cheverino. - -When I thought that the fresh, sharp night air had cooled my blood -sufficiently, I returned to the fire; I wrapped myself carefully in -my cloak and closed my eyes, hoping not to open them before dawn. But -sleep refused to come. Insensibly my thoughts took a gloomy turn. I -said to myself that I had not a friend among the hundred thousand -men who covered that plain. If I were wounded, I should be taken to -a hospital and treated roughly by ignorant surgeons. All that I had -heard of surgical operations came to my mind. My heart beat violently, -and I instinctively arranged my handkerchief, and the wallet that I had -in my breast pocket, as a sort of cuirass. I was worn out with fatigue, -I nodded every moment, and every moment some sinister thought returned -with renewed force and roused me with a start. - -But weariness carried the day, and when they beat the reveille, I was -sound asleep. We were drawn up in battle array, the roll was called, -then we stacked arms, and everything indicated that we were to have a -quiet day. - -About three o’clock an aide-de-camp appeared, bringing an order. We -were ordered under arms again; our skirmishers spread out over the -plain; we followed them slowly, and after about twenty minutes, we saw -all the advanced posts of the Russians fall back and return inside the -redoubt. - -A battery of artillery came into position at our right, another at our -left, but both well in advance of us. They began a very hot fire at -the enemy, who replied vigorously, and the redoubt of Cheverino soon -disappeared beneath dense clouds of smoke. - -Our regiment was almost protected from the Russian fire by a rise in -the ground. Their balls, which, indeed, were rarely aimed at us, for -they preferred to fire at our gunners, passed over our heads, or, at -the worst, spattered us with dirt and small stones. - -As soon as we received the order to advance, my captain looked at me -with a close scrutiny which compelled me to run my hand over my budding -moustache twice or thrice, as unconcernedly as I could. Indeed, I was -not frightened, and the only fear I had was that he should believe that -I was frightened. Those harmless cannon-balls helped to maintain me in -my heroically calm frame of mind. My self-esteem told me that I was -really in danger, as I was at last under the fire of a battery. I was -overjoyed to be so entirely at my ease, and I thought of the pleasure I -should take in telling of the capture of the redoubt of Cheverino in -Madame de B----’s salon on Rue de Provence. - -The colonel passed our company; he spoke to me: - -“Well, you are going to see some sharp work for your début.” - -I smiled with an altogether martial air as I brushed my coat sleeve, on -which a shot that struck the ground thirty yards away had spattered a -little dust. - -It seems that the Russians observed the ill success of their -cannon-balls; for they replaced them with shells, which could more -easily be made to reach us in the hollow where we were posted. A large -piece of one took off my shako and killed a man near me. - -“I congratulate you,” said my captain, as I picked up my shako; “you’re -safe now for to-day.” - -I was acquainted with the military superstition which believes that -the axiom, _Non bis in idem_, has the same application on a field of -battle as in a court of justice. I proudly replaced my shako on my head. - -“That is making a fellow salute rather unceremoniously,” I said as -gaily as I could. That wretched joke was considered first-rate, in view -of the circumstances. - -“I congratulate you,” continued the captain; “you will get nothing -worse, and you will command a company this evening; for I feel that the -oven is being heated for me. Every time that I have been wounded the -officer nearest me has been hit by a spent ball; and,” he added in a -low tone and almost as if he were ashamed, “their names always began -with a P.” - -I feigned incredulity; many men would have done the same; many men too -would have been, as I was, profoundly impressed by those prophetic -words. Conscript as I was, I realised that I could not confide my -sensations to any one, and that I must always appear cool and fearless. - -After about half an hour the Russian fire sensibly diminished; -thereupon we left our sheltered position to march upon the redoubt. - -Our regiment consisted of three battalions. The second was ordered to -turn the redoubt on the side of the entrance; the other two were to -make the assault. I was in the third battalion. - -As we came out from behind the species of ridge which had protected -us, we were received by several volleys of musketry, which did little -damage in our ranks. The whistling of the bullets surprised me; I -kept turning my head, and thus induced divers jests on the part of my -comrades, who were more familiar with that sound. - -“Take it all in all,” I said to myself, “a battle isn’t such a terrible -thing.” - -We advanced at the double-quick, preceded by skirmishers; suddenly the -Russians gave three hurrahs, three distinct hurrahs, then remained -silent and ceased firing. - -“I don’t like this silence,” said my captain; “it bodes us no good.” - -I considered that our men were a little too noisy, and I could not -forbear making a mental comparison between their tumultuous shouting -and the enemy’s impressive silence. - -We speedily reached the foot of the redoubt; the palisades had been -shattered and the earth torn up by our balls. The soldiers rushed at -these newly made ruins with shouts of “_Vive l’Empereur!_” louder than -one would have expected to hear from men who had already shouted so -much. - -I raised my eyes, and I shall never forget the spectacle that I saw. -The greater part of the smoke had risen, and hung like a canopy about -twenty feet above the redoubt. Through a bluish haze one could see -the Russian grenadiers behind their half-destroyed parapet, with arms -raised, motionless as statues. It seems to me that I can see now each -soldier, with his left eye fastened upon us, the right hidden by the -levelled musket. In an embrasure, a few yards away, a man stood beside -a cannon, holding a fusee. - -I shuddered, and I thought that my last hour had come. - -“The dance is going to begin,” cried my captain. “Bonsoir!” - -Those were the last words I heard him utter. - -The drums rolled inside the redoubt. I saw all the muskets drop. I -closed my eyes, and I heard a most appalling crash, followed by shrieks -and groans. I opened my eyes, surprised to find myself still among the -living. The redoubt was filled with smoke once more. I was surrounded -by dead and wounded. My captain lay at my feet; his head had been -shattered by a cannon-ball, and I was covered with his brains and his -blood. Of all my company only six men and myself were left on our feet. - -This carnage was succeeded by a moment of stupefaction. The colonel, -placing his hat on the point of his sword, was the first to scale the -parapet, shouting: “_Vive l’Empereur!_” He was followed instantly by -all the survivors. I have a very dim remembrance of what followed. -We entered the redoubt; how, I have no idea. We fought hand to hand, -amid smoke so dense that we could not see one another. I believe that -I struck, for my sabre was all bloody. At last I heard shouts of -“Victory!” and as the smoke grew less dense, I saw blood and corpses -completely covering the surface of the redoubt. The guns especially -were buried beneath piles of bodies. About two hundred men, in the -French uniform, were standing about in groups, with no pretence of -order, some loading their muskets, others wiping their bayonets. Eleven -hundred Russian prisoners were with them. - -The colonel, covered with blood, was lying on a shattered caisson near -the ravine. A number of soldiers were bustling about him. I approached. - -“Where is the senior captain?” he asked a sergeant. - -The sergeant shrugged his shoulders most expressively. - -“And the senior lieutenant?” - -“Monsieur here, who arrived last night,” said the sergeant, in a -perfectly matter-of-fact tone. - -The colonel smiled bitterly. - -“Well, monsieur,” he said, “you command in chief; order the entrance to -the redoubt to be strengthened with these waggons, for the enemy is in -force; but General C---- will see that you are supported.” - -“Colonel,” I said, “are you severely wounded?” - -“Finished, my boy, but the redoubt is taken!” - - 1829. - - - - -Mateo Falcone - - -As you leave Porto Vecchio and journey north-west, towards the interior -of the island, you find that the ground rises rather rapidly; and -after a three hours’ jaunt along winding paths, obstructed by huge -boulders, and sometimes interrupted by ravines, you find yourself on -the edge of a very extensive _maquis_. The _maquis_ is the home of the -Corsican shepherd and of all those who are at odds with the law. You -must know that the Corsican farmer, to save himself the trouble of -fertilising his land, sets fire to a certain amount of woodland. If -the fire spreads farther than is necessary, so much the worse; come -what come may, he is quite sure of obtaining a good harvest by planting -the ground fertilised by the ashes of the trees it formerly bore. When -the ripe grain is gathered,--for they leave the straw, which it would -require some labour to collect,--the roots which are left unburned in -the ground put forth in the following spring very vigorous shoots, -which reach a height of seven or eight feet in a few years. It is this -species of dense underbrush which is called _maquis_. It consists of -trees and bushes of different kinds, mingled together as God pleases. -Only with hatchet in hand can man open a path through it; and there are -some _maquis_ so dense and thick that even the wild sheep cannot break -through. - -If you have killed a man, betake yourself to the _maquis_ of Porto -Vecchio, and you can live there in safety with a good rifle, powder, -and shot. Do not forget a brown cloak provided with a hood, to serve as -a covering and as a mattress. The shepherds will give you milk, cheese, -and chestnuts, and you will have no reason to fear the law, or the dead -man’s kindred, except when you are forced to go down into the town to -replenish your stock of ammunition. - -Mateo Falcone, when I was in Corsica, in 18--, had his home about half -a league from this _maquis_. He was a rather wealthy man for that -country; living nobly--that is to say, without working--on the produce -of his flocks, which were driven to pasture here and there upon the -mountains by shepherds, a sort of nomadic people. When I saw him, -two years subsequent to the episode I am about to relate, he seemed -to me to be not more than fifty years old at most. Imagine a small, -but sturdily built man, with curly hair as black as jet, aquiline -nose, thin lips, large bright eyes, and a complexion of the hue of a -boot-flap. His skill in marksmanship was considered extraordinary, even -in his country, where there are so many good shots. For example, Mateo -would never fire at a wild sheep with buckshot; but he would bring -one down at a hundred and twenty yards with a bullet in the head or -the shoulder, as he pleased. He used his weapons as readily at night -as by day, and I was told of this instance of his skill, which will -seem incredible perhaps to those who have not travelled in Corsica. A -candle was placed at a distance of twenty-four yards, behind a piece of -transparent paper as large as a plate. He took aim, then the candle was -extinguished, and, a minute later, in absolute darkness, he fired and -hit the paper three times out of four. - -With such transcendent talent, Mateo Falcone had won a great -reputation. He was said to be as true a friend as he was a dangerous -enemy; always ready to oblige, and generous to the poor, he lived at -peace with all the world in the district of Porto Vecchio. But the -story was told of him, that at Corte, where he married his wife, he had -disposed very summarily of a rival who was reputed to be as redoubtable -in war as in love; at all events, Mateo was given credit for a certain -rifle shot which surprised the aforesaid rival as he was shaving in -front of a little mirror that hung at his window. When the affair was -forgotten, Mateo married. His wife, Giuseppa, gave him at first three -daughters (which caused him to fret and fume), and finally a son, whom -he named Fortunato; he was the hope of the family, the heir to the -name. The daughters were well married; their father could at need rely -upon the daggers and carbines of his sons-in-law. The son was only ten -years old, but he already gave rich promise for the future. - -On a certain day in autumn, Mateo left the house early, with his wife, -to inspect one of his flocks at a clearing in the _maquis_. Fortunato -would have liked to go with them, but the clearing was too far; -moreover, some one must stay behind to watch the house; so the father -refused; we shall see whether he had reason to repent. - -He had been absent several hours, and little Fortunato was lying -placidly in the sun, watching the blue mountains, and thinking that, on -the following Sunday, he was going to the town to dine with his uncle -the _caporal_,[40] when he was suddenly interrupted in his meditations -by the report of a firearm. He rose and turned towards the plain from -which the sound came. Other reports followed, at unequal intervals, -coming constantly nearer. At last, on a path leading from the plain -to Mateo’s house, appeared a man wearing a pointed cap such as the -mountaineers wear, with a long beard, clad in rags, and hardly able to -drag himself along, using his rifle as a cane. He had received a bullet -in the thigh. - -That man was a bandit,[41] who, having started under cover of the -darkness to go to the town for powder, had fallen into an ambush -of Corsican voltigeurs.[42] After a stout defence he had succeeding -in beating a retreat, hotly pursued, and firing from one rock after -another. But he was only a little in advance of the soldiers, and his -wound made it impossible to reach the _maquis_ before he was overtaken. - -He went up to Fortunato and said: - -“You are Mateo Falcone’s son?” - -“Yes.” - -“I am Gianetto Sanpiero. I am pursued by the yellow collars.[43] Hide -me, for I can’t go any farther.” - -“What will my father say if I hide you without his leave?” - -“He will say that you did well.” - -“Who knows?” - -“Hide me quick; they’re coming.” - -“Wait till my father comes home.” - -“Wait? damnation! They will be here in five minutes. Come, hide me, or -I’ll kill you.” - -Fortunato replied with the utmost coolness: - -“Your gun’s empty, and there ain’t any cartridges left in your -_carchera_.”[44] - -“I have my stiletto.” - -“But can you run as fast I can?” - -He gave a leap and placed himself out of danger. - -“You are not Mateo Falcone’s son! Will you let me be arrested in front -of your house?” - -The child seemed to be moved. - -“What will you give me if I hide you?” he said, drawing nearer. - -The bandit felt in a leather pocket that hung from his belt and took -out a five-franc piece, which he had kept in reserve, no doubt, to buy -powder. Fortunato smiled at sight of the silver; he seized it and said -to Gianetto: - -“Don’t be afraid.” - -He instantly dug a great hole in a haystack that stood near the house. -Gianetto crept into it, and the child covered him so as to let him -have a little air to breathe, but so that it was impossible to suspect -that the hay concealed a man. He conceived also an ingeniously crafty -idea, worthy of a savage. He took a cat and her kittens and placed -them on the haystack, to make it appear that it had not been disturbed -recently. Then, noticing marks of blood on the path near the house, he -carefully covered them with dirt, and, when that was done, lay down -again in the sun with the most perfect tranquillity. - -A few minutes later, six men in brown uniform with yellow facings -commanded by an adjutant halted in front of Mateo’s door. This -adjutant was distantly related to the Falcones. (It is well known -that in Corsica degrees of kinship are followed out much farther than -elsewhere.) His name was Tiodoro Gamba; he was an active officer, -greatly feared by the bandits, several of whom he had already run to -earth. - -“Good-day, my young cousin,” he said to Fortunato, walking to where he -lay; “how you’ve grown! Did you see a man pass by just now?” - -“Oh! I ain’t as tall as you yet, cousin,” replied the child, with a -stupid expression. - -“That will come. But tell me, didn’t you see a man pass?” - -“Didn’t I see a man pass?” - -“Yes, a man with a black velvet pointed cap and a red and yellow -embroidered jacket?” - -“A man in a pointed cap and a red and yellow embroidered jacket?” - -“Yes; answer at once, and don’t repeat my questions.” - -“Monsieur le curé passed our door this morning, on his horse Piero. He -asked me how papa was and I told him----” - -“Ah! you little scamp, you are playing sly! Tell me quick which way -Gianetto went; for he’s the man we’re looking for, and I am certain he -took this path.” - -“Who knows?” - -“Who knows? I know that you saw him.” - -“Does a fellow see people pass when he’s asleep?” - -“You weren’t asleep, good-for-nothing; the shots woke you.” - -“Do you think, cousin, that your guns make such a great noise? My -father’s carbine makes a lot more.” - -“May the devil take you, you infernal rascal! I am perfectly sure you -saw Gianetto. Perhaps you have hidden him even. Come, boys; go into the -house, and see if our man isn’t there. He was only going on one foot, -and he knows too much, the villain, to try to get to the _maquis_ at -that gait. Besides, the marks of blood stopped here.” - -“What will papa say?” queried Fortunato, with a mocking laugh. “What -will he say when he knows that you went into his house when he was -away?” - -“You good-for-nothing!” said Adjutant Gamba, taking him by the ear, “do -you know that it rests with me to make you change your tune? Perhaps, -if I give you twenty blows or so with the flat of my sabre, you will -conclude to speak.” - -But Fortunato continued to laugh sneeringly. - -“My father is Mateo Falcone!” he said with emphasis. - -“Do you know, you little scamp, that I can take you to Corte or to -Bastia? I’ll make you sleep in a dungeon, on straw, with irons on -your feet, and I’ll have you guillotined, if you don’t tell me where -Gianetto Sanpiero is.” - -The child laughed heartily at this absurd threat. - -“My father’s Mateo Falcone,” he repeated. - -“Adjutant,” said one of the voltigeurs in an undertone, “let us not get -into a row with Mateo.” - -Gamba was evidently perplexed. He talked in a low tone with his -soldiers, who had already searched the whole house. It was not a very -long operation, for a Corsican’s cabin consists of a single square -room. The furniture consists of a table, benches, chests, and household -and hunting implements. Meanwhile little Fortunato patted his cat, -and seemed to derive a wicked enjoyment from the embarrassment of the -voltigeurs and his cousin. - -A soldier approached the haystack. He saw the cat and thrust his -bayonet carelessly into the hay, shrugging his shoulders, as if he -realised that it was an absurd precaution. Nothing stirred; and the -child’s face did not betray the slightest excitement. - -The adjutant and his squad were at their wit’s end; they were already -glancing meaningly toward the plain, as if proposing to return whence -they came, when their leader, convinced that threats would have no -effect on Falcone’s son, determined to make one last effort, and to try -the power of caresses and gifts. - -“You seem to be a very wide-awake youngster, cousin,” said he. “You -will go far. But you are playing a low game with me; and if I wasn’t -afraid of distressing my cousin Mateo, deuce take me if I wouldn’t -carry you off with me!” - -“Bah!” - -“But, when my cousin returns, I’ll tell him the story, and he’ll give -you the lash till the blood comes, to punish you for lying.” - -“And then?” - -“You will see. But, I say, be a good boy, and I’ll give you something.” - -“And I’ll give you a piece of advice, cousin: if you stay here any -longer, Gianetto will be in the _maquis_, and then it will take more -than one fox like you to catch him.” - -The adjutant took a silver watch from his pocket, worth perhaps thirty -francs; and observing that little Fortunato’s eyes sparkled as he -looked at it, he said, holding it up at the end of its steel chain: - -“Rascal! you’d like to have a watch like this hanging round your neck, -and you’d stroll through the streets of Porto Vecchio, as proud as a -peacock; and people would ask you: ‘What time is it?’ and you’d say: -‘Look at my watch!’” - -“When I’m big, my uncle the _caporal_ will give me a watch.” - -“Yes; but your uncle’s son has got one now--not such a fine one as -this, to be sure. Still, he’s younger than you.” - -The child sighed. - -“Well! would you like this watch, my little cousin?” - -Fortunato, with his eye fixed on the watch, resembled a cat to which a -whole chicken is presented. As the beast feels sure that he is being -made a fool of, he dares not touch it with his claws, and he turns -his eyes away from time to time to avoid the risk of yielding to -temptation; but he licks his chops every instant, and seems to say to -his master: “What a cruel joke this is!” - -But Adjutant Gamba seemed to be in earnest in his offer of the watch. -Fortunato did not put out his hand; but he said with a bitter smile: - -“Why do you make sport of me?” - -“By God! I am not joking. Just tell me where Gianetto is, and this -watch is yours.” - -Fortunato smiled an incredulous smile; and, fastening his black eyes on -the adjutant’s, he strove to read therein how far he should put faith -in his words. - -“May I lose my epaulets,” cried the adjutant, “if I don’t give you the -watch on that condition! My comrades are witnesses; and I can’t go back -on my word.” - -As he spoke, he held the watch nearer and nearer, so that it almost -touched the child’s pale cheek. His face betrayed the battle that was -taking place in his mind between covetousness and respect for the -duties of hospitality. His bare breast rose and fell violently, and he -seemed on the point of suffocation. Meanwhile the watch swung to and -fro, turned, and sometimes touched the end of his nose. At last, by -slow degrees, his right hand rose toward the watch; the ends of his -fingers touched it; and he felt the full weight of it on his hand, but -still the adjutant did not let go the end of the chain. The face was -sky-blue, the case newly polished--in the sun it shone like fire. The -temptation was too great. - -Fortunato raised his left hand, too, and pointed with his thumb, over -his left shoulder, to the haystack against which he was leaning. The -adjutant understood him instantly. He let go the end of the chain; -Fortunato realised that he was the sole possessor of the watch. He -sprang up with the agility of a stag, and ran some yards away from the -haystack, which the voltigeurs began at once to demolish. - -They soon saw the hay begin to move; and a man covered with blood -came forth, dagger in hand; but when he tried to raise himself, his -stiffened wound prevented him from standing erect. He fell. The -adjutant threw himself upon him and tore his stiletto from his hand. -In a trice he was securely bound, despite his resistance. - -Gianetto, lying on the ground and corded like a bundle of sticks, -turned his head toward Fortunato, who had drawn near. - -“Son of----!” he said, with more scorn than anger. - -The child tossed him the piece of silver which he had received from -him, feeling that he no longer deserved it; but the outlaw seemed to -pay no heed to that movement. He said to the adjutant, as coolly as -possible: - -“I can’t walk, my dear Gamba; you will have to carry me to the town.” - -“You ran faster than a kid just now,” retorted the cruel victor; “but -never fear; I am so pleased to have caught you, that I would carry you -on my back a whole league without getting tired. However, my boy, we’ll -make a litter for you with some branches and your cloak; and we shall -find horses at Crespoli’s farm.” - -“Good,” said the prisoner; “just put a little straw on your litter, -too, so that I can be more comfortable.” - -While the voltigeurs busied themselves, some in making a sort of litter -with chestnut branches, others in dressing Gianetto’s wound, Mateo -Falcone and his wife suddenly appeared at a bend in the path leading to -the _maquis_. The woman was stooping painfully beneath the weight of an -enormous bag of chestnuts, while her husband sauntered along, carrying -nothing save one rifle in his hand and another slung over his shoulder; -for it is unworthy of a man to carry any other burden than his weapons. - -At sight of the soldiers, Mateo’s first thought was that they had come -to arrest him. But why that thought? Had Mateo any difficulties to -adjust with the authorities? No. He enjoyed an excellent reputation. He -was, as they say, a person of good fame; but he was a Corsican and a -mountaineer; and there are few Corsican mountaineers who, by carefully -searching their memory, cannot find some trifling peccadillo--such as -a rifle shot, a dagger thrust, or other bagatelle. Mateo’s conscience -was clearer than most, for he had not aimed his rifle at a man for more -than ten years; but he was prudent none the less, and he placed himself -in a position to make a stout defence, if need be. - -“Wife,” he said to Giuseppa, “put down your bag and be ready.” - -She instantly obeyed. He gave her the gun that he carried slung over -his shoulder, which might be in his way. He cocked the one he had in -his hand, and walked slowly toward his house, skirting the trees that -lined the path, and ready, at the slightest hostile demonstration, to -jump behind the largest trunk, where he could fire without exposing -himself. His wife followed at his heels, holding his spare gun and his -cartridge-box. A good housewife’s work, in case of a fight, is to load -her husband’s weapons. - -The adjutant, on the other hand, was greatly disturbed to see Mateo -advance thus with measured steps, with rifle raised and finger on -trigger. - -“If by any chance,” he thought, “Mateo proves to be related to -Gianetto, or if he is his friend and should take it into his head to -defend him, the charges of his two rifles would reach two of us, as -sure as a letter reaches its address; and suppose he should draw a bead -on me, notwithstanding our relationship!” - -In his perplexity he adopted an extremely courageous course--he went -forward alone toward Mateo, to tell him what had happened, accosting -him as an old acquaintance; but the short distance that separated them -seemed to him terribly long. - -“Hallo! my old comrade,” he cried; “how goes it, old fellow? It’s me, -Gamba, your cousin.” - -Mateo, without a word in reply, halted, and as the other spoke he -raised the barrel of his gun slowly, so that it was pointed at the sky -when the adjutant met him. - -“Good-day, brother,” said the adjutant, “it’s a long while since I saw -you.” - -“Good-day, brother.” - -“I looked in to say good-day to you and Cousin Pepa as I passed. We -have had a long jaunt to-day; but we ought not to complain of fatigue, -as we have made a famous capture. We have caught Gianetto Sanpiero.” - -“God be praised!” cried Giuseppa. “He stole a milch goat from us last -week.” - -Those words made Gamba’s heart glad. - -“Poor devil!” said Mateo, “he was hungry.” - -“The rascal defended himself like a lion,” continued the adjutant, -slightly mortified; “he killed one of my men, and, not content with -that, he broke Corporal Chardon’s arm; but there’s no great harm done; -he was only a Frenchman. After that, he hid himself so completely that -the devil himself couldn’t have found him. If it hadn’t been for my -little cousin, Fortunato, I could never have unearthed him.” - -“Fortunato!” cried Mateo. - -“Fortunato!” echoed Giuseppa. - -“Yes, Gianetto was hidden under the haystack yonder; but my little -cousin showed me the trick. And I’ll tell his uncle the _caporal_, so -that he’ll send him a handsome present for his trouble. And his name -and yours will be in the report I shall send the advocate-general.” - -“Malediction!” muttered Mateo. - -They had joined the squad. Gianetto was already lying on the litter, -ready to start. When he saw Mateo with Gamba, he smiled a strange -smile; then, turning towards the door of the house, he spat on the -threshold, saying: - -“House of a traitor!” - -Only a man who had made up his mind to die would have dared to utter -the word traitor as applying to Falcone. A quick thrust of the -stiletto, which would not have needed to be repeated, would have paid -for the insult instantly. But Mateo made no other movement than to put -his hand to his forehead, like a man utterly crushed. - -Fortunato had gone into the house when he saw his father coming. He -soon reappeared with a mug of milk, which he handed to Gianetto with -downcast eyes. - -“Away from me!” shouted the outlaw in a voice of thunder. Then, turning -to one of the voltigeurs, “Comrade,” he said, “give me a drink.” - -The soldier placed his gourd in his hands, and the outlaw drank the -water given him by a man with whom he had recently exchanged rifle -shots. Then he asked that his hands might be bound so that they would -be folded on his breast, instead of behind his back. - -“I like to lie comfortably,” he said. - -They readily gratified him; then the adjutant gave the signal for -departure, bade adieu to Mateo, who made no reply, and marched down at -a rapid pace towards the plain. - -Nearly ten minutes passed before Mateo opened his mouth. The child -glanced uneasily, now at his mother and now at his father, who, -leaning upon his gun, gazed at him with an expression of intense wrath. - -“You begin well!” said Mateo at last, in a voice which, although calm, -was terrifying to one who knew the man. - -“Father!” cried the child stepping forward, with tears in his eyes, as -if to throw himself at his feet. - -But Mateo cried: - -“Away from me!” - -And the child stopped and stood still, sobbing, a few steps from his -father. - -Giuseppa approached. She had spied the watch chain, one end of which -protruded from Fortunato’s shirt. - -“Who gave you that watch?” she asked in a harsh tone. - -“My cousin the adjutant.” - -Falcone seized the watch, and hurled it against a stone, breaking it -into a thousand pieces. - -“Woman,” he said, “is this child mine?” - -Giuseppa’s brown cheeks turned a brick red. - -“What do you say, Mateo? Do you know who you’re talking to?” - -“Well, this child is the first of his race that ever did an act of -treachery.” - -Fortunato’s sobs and hiccoughs redoubled in force, and Falcone still -kept his lynx-eyes fastened on him. At last he struck the butt of his -gun on the ground, then threw it over his shoulder again and started -back toward the _maquis_, calling to Fortunato to follow him. The child -obeyed. - -Giuseppa ran after Mateo and grasped his arm. - -“He is your son,” she said in a trembling voice, fixing her black eyes -on her husband’s, as if to read what was taking place in his mind. - -“Let me alone,” replied Mateo, “I am his father.” - -Giuseppa embraced her son and entered her cabin, weeping. She fell -on her knees before an image of the Virgin and prayed fervently. -Meanwhile Falcone walked some two hundred yards along the path, and did -not stop until they reached a narrow ravine into which he descended. -He sounded the earth with the butt of his rifle, and found it soft and -easy to dig. It seemed to him a suitable spot for his design. - -“Fortunato, go and stand by that big stone.” - -The child did what he ordered, then knelt. - -“Say your prayers.” - -“Father, father, don’t kill me!” - -“Say your prayers!” Mateo repeated, in a terrible voice. - -The child, stammering and sobbing, repeated the _Pater_ and the -_Credo_. The father, in a loud voice, said _Amen!_ at the end of each -prayer. - -“Are those all the prayers you know?” - -“I know the _Ave Maria_, too, father, and the litany my aunt taught me.” - -“That’s very long, but no matter.” - -The child finished the litany in a feeble voice. - -“Have you finished?” - -“Oh, father! mercy! forgive me! I won’t do it again! I will pray so -hard to my uncle the _caporal_ that he’ll forgive Gianetto!” - -He continued to speak; Mateo had cocked his gun, and he took aim at -him, saying: - -“May God forgive you!” - -The child made a desperate effort to rise and grasp his father’s knees; -but he had not time. Mateo fired, and Fortunato fell stark dead. - -Without glancing at the body, Mateo returned to his house to fetch a -spade, in order to bury his son. He had taken only a few steps, when he -met Giuseppa, who was running after them, terrified by the report. - -“What have you done?” she cried. - -“Justice.” - -“Where is he?” - -“In the ravine. I am going to bury him. He died the death of a -Christian; I will have a mass sung for him. Send word to my son-in-law -Tiodoro Bianchi to come and live with us.” - - 1829. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[40] In olden times the _caporals_ were the leaders chosen by the -Corsican communes when they rebelled against the feudal lords. To-day -the name is sometimes given to a man who, by reason of his property, -his alliances, and his clientage, exerts a certain influence and acts -as a sort of magistrate in a _pieve_ or a canton. The Corsicans, by an -ancient custom, divide themselves into _gentlemen_ (some of whom are -_magnificoes_, others _signori_), _caporali_, _citizens_, _plebeians_, -and _foreigners_. - -[41] The word is in this instance synonymous with outlaw. - -[42] A corps levied within a few years by the government and employed -on police duty, concurrently with the gendarmerie. - -[43] The uniform of the voltigeurs consisted of a brown coat with a -yellow collar. - -[44] A leather girdle used as cartridge-box and as wallet. - - - - -The Venus of Ille - - Ἰλεὼς ἣν δ' ἐγὼ, ἔστω ὁ ἀνδρίας - Καὶ ἤπιος, οὔτως ἀνδρεῖος ὢν. - - ΛΟΥΚΙΑΝΟΥ ΦΙΛΟΨΕΥΔΗΣ. - - -I was descending the last slope of Canigou, and, although the sun had -already set, I could distinguish in the plain below the houses of the -little town of Ille, for which I was bound. - -“You know,” I said to the Catalan who had been acting as my guide since -the preceding day, “you know, doubtless, where Monsieur de Peyrehorade -lives?” - -“Do I know!” he cried; “why, I know his house as well as I do my own; -and if it wasn’t so dark, I’d show it to you. It’s the finest house in -Ille. He has money, you know, has Monsieur de Peyrehorade; and his son -is going to marry a girl that’s richer than himself.” - -“Is the marriage to take place soon?” I asked. - -“Soon! It may be that the fiddles are already ordered for the wedding. -To-night, perhaps, or to-morrow, or the day after, for all I know! It’s -to be at Puygarrig; for it’s Mademoiselle de Puygarrig that the young -gentleman is going to marry.” - -I had a letter of introduction to M. de Peyrehorade from my friend M. -de P. He was, so my friend had told me, a very learned antiquarian, and -good-natured and obliging to the last degree. He would take pleasure in -showing me all the ruins within a radius of ten leagues. Now, I relied -upon him to accompany me about the country near Ille, which I knew to -be rich in monuments of ancient times and of the Middle Ages. This -marriage, of which I now heard for the first time, might upset all my -plans. - -“I shall be an interloper,” I said to myself. - -But I was expected; as my arrival had been announced by M. de P., I -must needs present myself. - -“I’ll bet you, monsieur,” said my guide, as we reached the foot of the -mountain, “I’ll bet you a cigar that I can guess what you are going to -do at Monsieur de Peyrehorade’s.” - -“Why, that is not very hard to guess,” I replied, offering him a cigar. -“At this time of day, when one has walked six leagues over Canigou, the -most urgent business is supper.” - -“Yes, but to-morrow? Look you, I’ll bet that you have come to Ille to -see the idol! I guessed that when I saw you drawing pictures of the -saints at Serrabona.” - -“The idol! what idol?” The word had aroused my curiosity. - -“What! didn’t any one at Perpignan tell you how Monsieur de Peyrehorade -had found an idol in the ground?” - -“You mean a terra-cotta, or clay statue, don’t you?” - -“No, indeed! I mean a copper one, and it’s big enough to make a lot of -big sous. It weighs as much as a church bell. It was way down in the -ground, at the foot of an olive tree, that we found it.” - -“So you were present at the discovery, were you?” - -“Yes, monsieur. Monsieur de Peyrehorade told us a fortnight ago, Jean -Coll and me, to dig up an old olive tree that got frozen last year--for -it was a very hard winter, you know. So, while we were at work, Jean -Coll, who was going at it with all his might, dug his pick into the -dirt, and I heard a _bimm_--just as if he’d struck a bell.--‘What’s -that?’ says I. We kept on digging and digging, and first a black hand -showed; it looked like a dead man’s hand sticking out of the ground. -For my part, I was scared. I goes to monsieur, and I says to him: ‘Dead -men under the olive tree, master. You’d better call the curé.’ - -“‘What dead men?’ he says. - -“He went with me, and he’d no sooner seen the hand than he sings out: -‘An antique! an antique!’ You’d have thought he had found a treasure. -And to work he went with the pick and with his hands, and did as much -as both of us together, you might say.” - -“Well, what did you find?” - -“A tall black woman more than half naked, saving your presence, -monsieur, of solid copper; and Monsieur de Peyrehorade told us that it -was an idol of heathen times--of the time of Charlemagne!” - -“I see what it is: a bronze Blessed Virgin from some dismantled -convent.” - -“A Blessed Virgin! oh, yes! I should have recognised it if it had been -a Blessed Virgin. It’s an idol, I tell you; you can see that from its -expression. It fastens its great white eyes on you; you’d think it was -trying to stare you out of countenance. Why, you actually lower your -eyes when you look at it.” - -“White eyes? They are incrusted on the bronze, no doubt. It may be some -Roman statue.” - -“Roman! that’s it. Monsieur de Peyrehorade says she’s a Roman.--Ah! I -see that you’re a scholar like him.” - -“Is it whole, well preserved?” - -“Oh! it’s all there, monsieur. It’s even handsomer and finished better -than the plaster-of-Paris bust of Louis Philippe at the mayor’s office. -But for all that, I can’t get over the idol’s face. It has a wicked -look--and she is wicked, too.” - -“Wicked! what harm has she done you?” - -“None to me exactly; but I’ll tell you. We had got down on all fours to -stand her up, and Monsieur de Peyrehorade, he was pulling on the rope, -too, although he hasn’t any more strength than a chicken, the excellent -man! With a good deal of trouble we got her on her feet. I was picking -up a piece of stone to wedge her, when, _patatras!_ down she went -again, all in a heap. ‘Stand from under!’ says I. But I was too late, -for Jean Coll didn’t have time to pull out his leg.” - -“And he was hurt?” - -“His poor leg broken off short like a stick! _Pécaïre!_ when I saw -that, I was furious. I wanted to smash the idol with my pickaxe, but -Monsieur de Peyrehorade held me back. He gave Jean Coll some money, -but he’s been in bed all the same ever since it happened, a fortnight -ago, and the doctor says he’ll never walk with that leg like the -other. It’s a pity, for he was our best runner, and next to monsieur’s -son, the best tennis player. I tell you, it made Monsieur Alphonse de -Peyrehorade feel bad, for Coll always played with him. It was fine to -see how they’d send the balls back at each other. Paf! paf! They never -touched the ground.” - -Chatting thus we entered Ille, and I soon found myself in M. de -Peyrehorade’s presence. He was a little old man, still hale and -active, with powdered hair, a red nose, and a jovial, bantering air. -Before opening M. de P.’s letter, he installed himself in front of a -bountifully spread table, and introduced me to his wife and son as an -illustrious archæologist, who was destined to rescue Roussillon from -the oblivion in which the indifference of scholars had thus far left it. - -While eating with a hearty appetite--for nothing is more conducive -thereto than the keen mountain air--I examined my hosts. I have -already said a word or two of M. de Peyrehorade; I must add that he -was vivacity personified. He talked, ate, rose from his chair, ran to -his library, brought books to me, showed me prints, filled my glass; -he was never at rest for two minutes in succession. His wife, who was -a trifle too stout, like all the Catalan women after they have passed -forty, impressed me as a typical provincial, who had no interests -outside of her household. Although the supper was ample for at least -six persons, she ran to the kitchen, ordered pigeons killed, all sorts -of things fried, and opened Heaven knows how many jars of preserves. In -an instant the table was laden with dishes and bottles, and I should -certainly have died of indigestion if I had even tasted everything -that was offered me. And yet, with every new dish that I declined, -there were renewed apologies. She was afraid that I would find myself -very badly off at Ille. One had so few resources in the provinces, and -Parisians were so hard to please! - -Amid all the goings and comings of his parents, M. Alphonse de -Peyrehorade sat as motionless as the god Terminus. He was a tall young -man of twenty-six, with a handsome and regular face, which however -lacked expression. His figure and his athletic proportions fully -justified the reputation of an indefatigable tennis player which he -enjoyed throughout the province. On this evening he was dressed in the -height of fashion, exactly in accordance with the engraving in the last -number of the _Journal des Modes_. But he seemed ill at ease in his -clothes; he was as stiff as a picket in his velvet stock, and moved his -whole body when he turned. His rough, sunburned hands and short nails -formed a striking contrast to his costume. They were the hands of a -ploughman emerging from the sleeves of a dandy. Furthermore, although -he scrutinised me with interest from head to foot, I being a Parisian, -he spoke to me but once during the evening, and that was to ask me -where I bought my watch chain. - -“Look you, my dear guest,” said M. de Peyrehorade, as the supper drew -to a close, “you belong to me, you are in my house; I shall not let -you go until you have seen everything of interest that we have in our -mountains. You must learn to know our Roussillon, and you must do her -justice. You have no suspicion of all that we are going to show you: -Phœnician, Celtic, Roman, Arabian, Byzantine monuments--you shall see -them all, from the cedar to the hyssop. I will take you everywhere, and -I will not let you off from a single brick.” - -A paroxysm of coughing compelled him to pause. I seized the opportunity -to say that I should be distressed to incommode him at a season so -fraught with interest to his family. If he would simply give me the -benefit of his excellent advice as to the excursions it would be well -for me to make, I could easily, without putting him to the trouble of -accompanying me---- - -“Ah! you refer to this boy’s marriage,” he exclaimed, interrupting -me. “That’s a mere trifle--it will take place day after to-morrow. -You must attend the wedding with us, _en famille_, as the bride is in -mourning for an aunt whose property she inherits. So there are to be -no festivities, no ball. It is too bad, for you might have seen our -Catalan girls dance. They are very pretty, and perhaps you would have -felt inclined to follow my Alphonse’s example. One marriage, they say, -leads to others.--Saturday, when the young people are married, I shall -be free, and we will take the field. I ask your pardon for subjecting -you to the ennui of a provincial wedding. For a Parisian, sated with -parties of all sorts--and a wedding without a ball, at that! However, -you will see a bride--a bride--you must tell me what you think of her. -But you are a serious man, and you don’t look at women any more. I have -something better than that to show you. I will show you something worth -seeing! I have a famous surprise in store for you to-morrow.” - -“Mon Dieu!” said I, “it is difficult to keep a treasure in one’s house -without the public knowing all about it. I fancy that I can divine -the surprise that you have in store for me. But if you refer to your -statue, the description of it that my guide gave me has served simply -to arouse my curiosity and to predispose me to admiration.” - -“Ah! so he spoke to you about the idol--for that is what they call -my beautiful Venus Tur--but I will tell you nothing now. You shall -see her to-morrow, by daylight, and tell me whether I am justified in -considering her a _chef-d’œuvre_. Parbleu! you could not have arrived -more opportunely! There are some inscriptions which I, poor ignoramus -that I am, interpret after my manner. But a scholar from Paris! -It may be that you will make fun of my interpretation--for I have -written a memoir--I, who speak to you, an old provincial antiquary, -have made a start; I propose to make the printing-presses groan. If -you would kindly read and correct me, I might hope. For example, I am -very curious to know how you will translate this inscription on the -pedestal: CAVE--but I won’t ask you anything yet. Until to-morrow! -until to-morrow! Not a word about the Venus to-day!” - -“You are quite right, Peyrehorade,” said his wife, “to let your old -idol rest. You must see that you are keeping monsieur from eating. Bah! -monsieur has seen much finer statues than yours in Paris. There are -dozens of them at the Tuileries, and bronze ones, too.” - -“There you have the ignorance, the blessed ignorance of the provinces!” -interrupted M. de Peyrehorade. “Think of comparing an admirable antique -to Coustou’s insipid figures! - - “‘With what irreverence - Doth my good wife speak of the gods!’ - -Would you believe that my wife wanted me to melt my statue and make it -into a bell for our church! She would have been the donor, you see. A -_chef-d’œuvre_ of Myron, monsieur!” - -“_Chef-d’œuvre! chef-d’œuvre!_ a pretty _chef-d’œuvre_ she made! to -break a man’s leg!” - -“Look you, my wife,” said M. de Peyrehorade in a determined tone, -extending his right leg encased in a stocking of Chinese silk, in her -direction, “if my Venus had broken this leg, I should not regret it.” - -“Gracious Heaven! how can you say that, Peyrehorade? Luckily the man is -getting better. Still, I can’t make up my mind to look at the statue -that causes such accidents as that. Poor Jean Coll!” - -“Wounded by Venus, monsieur,” said M. de Peyrehorade, with a chuckle, -“wounded by Venus, the clown complains: - - “‘Veneris nec præmia noris.’ - -“Who has not been wounded by Venus?” - -M. Alphonse, who understood French better than Latin, winked with a -knowing look, and glanced at me as if to ask: - -“And you, Monsieur le Parisien, do you understand?” - -The supper came to an end. I had eaten nothing for the last hour. I was -tired and I could not succeed in dissembling the frequent yawns which -escaped me. Madame de Peyrehorade was the first to notice my plight and -observed that it was time to go to bed. Thereupon began a new series -of apologies for the wretched accommodations I was to have. I should -not be as comfortable as I was in Paris. One is so badly off in the -provinces! I must be indulgent for the Roussillonnais. In vain did I -protest that after a journey in the mountains a sheaf of straw would be -a luxurious bed for me--she continued to beg me to excuse unfortunate -country folk if they did not treat me as well as they would have liked -to do. I went upstairs at last to the room allotted to me, escorted by -M. de Peyrehorade. The staircase, the upper stairs of which were of -wood, ended in the centre of a corridor upon which several rooms opened. - -“At the right,” said my host, “is the apartment which I intend to -give to Madame Alphonse that is to be. Your room is at the end of the -opposite corridor. You know,” he added, with an expression meant to be -sly, “you know we must put a newly married couple all by themselves. -You are at one end of the house and they at the other.” - -We entered a handsomely furnished room, in which the first object -that caught my eye was a bed seven feet long, six feet wide, and so -high that one had to use a stool to climb to the top. My host, having -pointed out the location of the bell, having assured himself that the -sugarbowl was full, and that the bottles of cologne had been duly -placed on the dressing-table, and having asked me several times if I -had everything that I wanted, wished me a good-night and left me alone. - -The windows were closed. Before undressing I opened one of them to -breathe the fresh night air, always delicious after a long supper. In -front of me was Canigou, beautiful to look at always, but that evening, -it seemed to me the most beautiful mountain in the world, lighted as -it was by a brilliant moon. I stood for some minutes gazing at its -wonderful silhouette, and was on the point of closing my window when, -as I lowered my eyes, I saw the statue on a pedestal some forty yards -from the house. It was placed at the corner of a quickset hedge which -separated a small garden from a large square of perfectly smooth turf, -which, as I learned later, was the tennis-court of the town. This -tract, which belonged to M. de Peyrehorade, had been ceded by him to -the commune, at his son’s urgent solicitation. - -I was so far from the statue that I could not distinguish its attitude -and could only guess at its height, which seemed to be about six -feet. At that moment two young scamps from the town walked across the -tennis-court, quite near the hedge, whistling the pretty Roussillon -air, _Montagnes Régalades_. They stopped to look at the statue, and one -of them apostrophised it in a loud voice. He spoke Catalan; but I had -been long enough in Roussillon to understand pretty nearly what he said. - -“So there you are, hussy! (The Catalan term was much more forcible.) So -there you are!” he said. “So it was you who broke Jean Coll’s leg! If -you belonged to me, I’d break your neck!” - -“Bah! with what?” said the other. “She’s made of copper, and it’s so -hard that Étienne broke his file, trying to file it. It’s copper of the -heathen times, and it’s harder than I don’t know what.” - -“If I had my cold-chisel”--it seemed that he was a locksmith’s -apprentice--“I’d soon dig out her big white eyes, as easy as I’d take -an almond out of its shell. They’d make more than a hundred sous in -silver.” - -They walked away a few steps. - -“I must bid the idol good-night,” said the taller of the two, suddenly -stopping again. - -He stooped, and, I suppose, picked up a stone. I saw him raise his arm -and throw something, and instantly there was a ringing blow on the -bronze. At the same moment the apprentice put his hand to his head, -with a sharp cry of pain. - -“She threw it back at me!” he exclaimed. - -And my two rascals fled at the top of their speed. It was evident that -the stone had rebounded from the metal, and had punished the fellow for -his affront to the goddess. - -I closed my window, laughing heartily. - -“Still another vandal chastised by Venus!” I thought. “May all the -destroyers of our ancient monuments have their heads broken thus!” - -And with that charitable prayer, I fell asleep. - -It was broad daylight when I woke. Beside my bed were, on one side, M. -de Peyrehorade in his _robe-de-chambre_; on the other a servant, sent -by his wife, with a cup of chocolate in his hand. - -“Come, up with you, Parisian! This is just like you sluggards from the -capital!” said my host, while I hastily dressed myself. “It is eight -o’clock, and you are still in bed! I have been up since six. This is -the third time I have come upstairs; I came to your door on tiptoe; not -a sound, not a sign of life. It will injure you to sleep too much at -your age. And you haven’t seen my Venus yet! Come, drink this cup of -Barcelona chocolate quickly. Genuine contraband, such chocolate as you -don’t get in Paris. You must lay up some strength, for, when you once -stand in front of my Venus, I shall not be able to tear you away from -her.” - -In five minutes I was ready--that is to say, half shaved, my clothes -half buttoned, and my throat scalded by the chocolate, which I had -swallowed boiling hot. I went down into the garden and found myself -before a really beautiful statue. - -It was, in truth, a Venus, and wonderfully lovely. The upper part of -the body was nude, as the ancients ordinarily represented the great -divinities; the right hand, raised as high as the breast, was turned -with the palm inward, the thumb and first two fingers extended, the -other two slightly bent. The other hand was near the hip and held the -drapery that covered the lower part of the body. The pose of the statue -recalled that of the Morra Player, usually known, I know not why, by -the name of Germanicus. Perhaps the sculptor intended to represent the -goddess playing the game of morra. - -However that may be, it is impossible to imagine anything more perfect -than the body of that Venus; anything more harmonious, more voluptuous -than her outlines, anything more graceful and more dignified than her -drapery. I expected to see some work of the later Empire; I saw a -_chef-d’œuvre_ of the best period of statuary. What especially struck -me was the exquisite verisimilitude of the forms, which one might have -believed to have been moulded from nature, if nature ever produced such -flawless models. - -The hair, which was brushed back from the forehead, seemed to have -been gilded formerly. The head, which was small, like those of almost -all Greek statues, was bent slightly forward. As for the face, I -shall never succeed in describing its peculiar character; it was of -a type which in no wise resembled that of any antique statue that I -can remember. It was not the tranquil, severe beauty of the Greek -sculptors, who systematically imparted a majestic immobility to all the -features. Here, on the contrary, I observed with surprise a clearly -marked intention on the part of the artist to express mischievousness -amounting almost to deviltry. All the features were slightly -contracted; the eyes were a little oblique, the corners of the mouth -raised, the nostrils a little dilated. Disdain, irony, cruelty could -be read upon that face, which none the less was inconceivably lovely. -In truth, the more one looked at that marvellous statue, the more -distressed one felt at the thought that such wonderful beauty could be -conjoined to utter absence of sensibility. - -“If the model ever existed,” I said to M. de Peyrehorade,--“and I doubt -whether Heaven ever produced such a woman--how I pity her lovers! She -must have delighted in driving them to death from despair. There is -something downright savage in her expression, and yet I never have seen -anything so beautiful!” - -“’T is Venus all intent upon her prey!” quoted M. de Peyrehorade, -delighted with my enthusiasm. - -That expression of infernal irony was heightened perhaps by the -contrast between the very brilliant silver eyes and the coating of -blackish green with which time had overlaid the whole statue. Those -gleaming eyes created a certain illusion which suggested reality, life. -I remembered what my guide had said, that she made those who looked -at her lower their eyes. That was almost true, and I could not help -feeling angry with myself as I realised that I was perceptibly ill at -ease before that bronze figure. - -“Now that you have admired her in every detail, my dear colleague -in antiquarian research,” said my host, “let us open a scientific -conference, if you please. What do you say to this inscription, which -you have not noticed as yet?” - -He pointed to the base of the statue, and I read there these words: - - CAVE AMANTEM. - -“_Quid dicis, doctissime?_” (“What do you say, most learned of men?”) -he asked, rubbing his hands. “Let us see if we shall agree as to the -meaning of this _cave amantem_.” - -“Why, there are two possible meanings,” I said. “It may be translated: -‘Beware of him who loves you--distrust lovers.’ But I am not sure that -_cave amantem_ would be good Latin in that sense. In view of the lady’s -diabolical expression, I should be inclined to believe rather that the -artist meant to put the spectator on his guard against that terrible -beauty. So that I should translate: ‘Look out for yourself if _she_ -loves you.’” - -“Humph!” ejaculated M. de Peyrehorade; “yes, that is a possible -translation; but, with all respect, I prefer the first, which I will -develop a little, however. You know who Venus’s lover was?” - -“She had several.” - -“Yes, but the first one was Vulcan. Did not the artist mean to say: -‘Despite all your beauty, and your scornful air, you shall have a -blacksmith, a wretched cripple, for a lover’? A solemn lesson for -coquettes, monsieur!” - -I could not help smiling, the interpretation seemed to me so -exceedingly far-fetched. - -“The Latin is a terrible language, with its extraordinary -conciseness,” I observed, to avoid contradicting my antiquary directly; -and I stepped back a few steps, to obtain a better view of the statue. - -“One moment, colleague!” said M. de Peyrehorade, seizing my arm, “you -have not seen all. There is still another inscription. Stand on the -pedestal and look at the right arm.” - -As he spoke, he helped me to climb up. - -I clung somewhat unceremoniously to the neck of the Venus, with whom -I was beginning to feel on familiar terms. I even looked her in the -eye for an instant, and I found her still more diabolical and still -lovelier at close quarters. Then I saw that there were some letters, -in what I took to be the antique cursive hand, engraved on the right -arm. With the aid of a strong glass I spelled out what follows, M. de -Peyrehorade repeating each word as I pronounced it, and expressing his -approbation with voice and gesture. I read: - - VENERI TVRBVL-- - - EVTYCHES MYRO - - IMPERIO FECIT - -After the word _tvrbvl_ in the first line several letters seemed to -have become effaced, but _tvrbvl_ was perfectly legible. - -“Which means?”--queried my host, with a beaming face, and winking -maliciously, for he had a shrewd idea that I would not easily handle -that _tvrbvl_. - -“There is one word here which I do not understand as yet,” I said; -“all the rest is simple. ‘Eutyches made this offering to Venus by her -order.’” - -“Excellent. But what do you make of _tvrbvl_? What is _tvrbvl_?” - -“_Tvrbvl_ puzzles me a good deal. I have tried in vain to think of -some known epithet of Venus to assist me. What would you say to -_Turbulenta_? Venus, who disturbs, who excites--as you see, I am still -engrossed by her evil expression. _Turbulenta_ is not a very inapt -epithet for Venus,” I added modestly, for I was not very well satisfied -myself with my explanation. - -“Turbulent Venus! Venus the roisterer! Ah! so you think that my Venus -is a wine-shop Venus, do you? Not by any means, monsieur; she is a -Venus in good society. But I will explain this _tvrbvl_ to you. Of -course you will promise not to divulge my discovery before my memoir is -printed. You see, I am very proud of this find of mine. You must leave -us poor devils in the provinces a few spears to glean. You are so rich, -you Parisian scholars!” - -From the top of the pedestal, whereon I was still perched, I solemnly -promised him that I would never be guilty of the baseness of stealing -his discovery. - -“_Tvrbvl_--monsieur,” he said, coming nearer to me and lowering -his voice, for fear that some other than myself might hear--“read -_tvrbvlneræ_.” - -“I don’t understand any better.” - -“Listen. About a league from here, at the foot of the mountain, is a -village called Boulternère. That name is a corruption of the Latin word -_Turbulnera_. Nothing is more common than such inversions. Boulternère, -monsieur, was a Roman city. I have always suspected as much, but I have -never had a proof of it. Here is the proof. This Venus was the local -divinity of the city of Boulternère; and this word Boulternère, whose -antique origin I have just demonstrated, proves something even more -interesting--namely, that Boulternère, before it became a Roman city, -was a Phœnician city!” - -He paused a moment to take breath and to enjoy my surprise. I succeeded -in restraining a very strong inclination to laugh. - -“It is a fact,” he continued, “_Turbulnera_ is pure Phœnician; _Tur_, -pronounced _Tour_--_Tour_ and _Sour_ are the same word, are they not? -_Sour_ is the Phœnician name of Tyre; I do not need to remind you of -its meaning. _Bul_ is Baal; Bal, Bel, Bul--slight differences in -pronunciation. As for _nera_--that gives me a little trouble. I am -inclined to believe, failing to find a Phœnician word, that it comes -from the Greek word νηρός, damp, swampy. In that case the word would -be a hybrid. To justify my suggestion of νηρός, I will show you that -at Boulternère the streams from the mountain form miasmatic pools. On -the other hand, the termination _nera_ may have been added much later, -in honour of Nera Pivesuvia, wife of Tetricus, who may have had some -property in the city of Turbul. But on account of the pools I prefer -the etymology from νηρός.” - -And he took a pinch of snuff with a self-satisfied air. - -“But let us leave the Phœnicians and return to the inscription. I -translate then: ‘To Venus of Boulternère, Myron, at her command, -dedicates this statue, his work.’” - -I had no idea of criticising his etymology, but I did desire to exhibit -some little penetration on my own part; so I said to him: - -“Stop there a moment, monsieur. Myron dedicated something, but I see -nothing to indicate that it was this statue.” - -“What!” he cried, “was not Myron a famous Greek sculptor? The talent -probably was handed down in the family; it was one of his descendants -who executed this statue. Nothing can be more certain.” - -“But,” I rejoined, “I see a little hole in the arm. I believe that it -was made to fasten something to--a bracelet, perhaps, which this Myron -presented to Venus as an expiatory offering.--Myron was an unsuccessful -lover; Venus was irritated with him and he appeased her by consecrating -a gold bracelet to her. Observe that _fecit_ is very often used in the -sense of _consecravit_; they are synonymous terms. I could show you -more than one example of what I say if I had Gruter or Orellius at -hand. It would be quite natural for a lover to see Venus in a dream and -to fancy that she ordered him to give a gold bracelet to her statue. -So Myron consecrated a bracelet to her; then the barbarians, or some -sacrilegious thief----” - -“Ah! it is easy to see that you have written novels!” cried my host, -giving me his hand to help me descend. “No, monsieur, it is a work of -the school of Myron. Look at the workmanship simply and you will agree.” - -Having made it a rule never to contradict outright an obstinate -antiquarian, I hung my head with the air of one fully persuaded, saying: - -“It’s an admirable thing.” - -“Ah! mon Dieu!” cried M. de Peyrehorade; “still another piece of -vandalism! Somebody must have thrown a stone at my statue!” - -He had just discovered a white mark a little above Venus’s breast. I -observed a similar mark across the fingers of the right hand, which I -then supposed had been grazed by the stone; or else that a fragment -of the stone had been broken off by the blow and had bounded against -the hand. I told my host about the insult that I had witnessed, and -the speedy retribution that had followed. He laughed heartily, and, -comparing the apprentice to Diomedes, expressed a hope that, like the -Grecian hero, he might see all his companions transformed into birds. - -The breakfast bell interrupted this classical conversation, and I was -again obliged, as on the preceding day, to eat for four. Then M. de -Peyrehorade’s farmers appeared; and while he gave audience to them, -his son took me to see a calèche which he had bought at Toulouse for -his fiancée, and which I admired, it is needless to say. Then I went -with him into the stable, where he kept me half an hour, boasting of -his horses, giving me their genealogies, and telling me of the prizes -they had won at various races in the province. At last he reached the -subject of his future wife, by a natural transition from a gray mare he -intended for her. - -“We shall see her to-day,” he said. “I do not know whether you will -think her pretty; but everybody here and at Perpignan considers her -charming. The best thing about her is that she’s very rich. Her aunt -at Prades left her all her property. Oh! I am going to be very happy.” - -I was intensely disgusted to see a young man more touched by the dowry -than by the _beaux yeux_ of his betrothed. - -“You know something about jewels,” continued M. Alphonse; “what do -you think of this one? This is the ring that I am going to give her -to-morrow.” - -As he spoke, he took from the first joint of his little finger a huge -ring with many diamonds, made in the shape of two clasped hands; an -allusion which seemed to me exceedingly poetical. The workmanship was -very old, but I judged that it had been changed somewhat to allow the -diamonds to be set. On the inside of the ring were these words in -Gothic letters: _Sempr’ ab ti_; that is to say, “Always with thee.” - -“It is a handsome ring,” I said, “but these diamonds have taken away -something of its character.” - -“Oh! it is much handsomer so,” he replied, with a smile. “There are -twelve hundred francs’ worth of diamonds. My mother gave it to me. It -was a very old family ring--of the times of chivalry. It belonged to my -grandmother, who had it from hers. God knows when it was made.” - -“The custom in Paris,” I said, “is to give a very simple ring, usually -made of two different metals, as gold and platinum, for instance. See, -that other ring, which you wear on this finger, would be most suitable. -This one, with its diamonds and its hands in relief, is so big that one -could not wear a glove over it.” - -“Oh! Madame Alphonse may arrange that as she pleases. I fancy that she -will be very glad to have it all the same. Twelve hundred francs on -one’s finger is very pleasant. This little ring,” he added, glancing -fatuously at the plain one which he wore, “was given me by a woman in -Paris one Mardi Gras. Ah! how I did go it when I was in Paris two -years ago! That’s the place where one enjoys one’s self!” - -And he heaved a sigh of regret. - -We were to dine that day at Puygarrig with the bride’s parents; we -drove in the calèche to the château, about a league and a half from -Ille. I was presented and made welcome as a friend of the family. I -will say nothing of the dinner or of the conversation which followed -it, and in which I took little part. M. Alphonse, seated beside his -fiancée, said a word in her ear every quarter of an hour. As for her, -she hardly raised her eyes, and whenever her future husband addressed -her she blushed modestly, but replied without embarrassment. - -Mademoiselle de Puygarrig was eighteen years of age; her supple and -delicate figure formed a striking contrast to the bony frame of her -athletic fiancé. She was not only lovely, but fascinating. I admired -the perfect naturalness of all her replies; and her good-humoured air, -which however was not exempt from a slight tinge of mischief, reminded -me, in spite of myself, of my host’s Venus. As I made this comparison -mentally, I asked myself whether the superiority in the matter of -beauty which I could not choose but accord to the statue, did not -consist in large measure in her tigress-like expression; for energy, -even in evil passions, always arouses in us a certain surprise and a -sort of involuntary admiration. - -“What a pity,” I said to myself as we left Puygarrig, “that such an -attractive person should be rich, and that her dowry should cause her -to be sought in marriage by a man who is unworthy of her!” - -On the way back to Ille, finding some difficulty in talking with Madame -de Peyrehorade, whom, however, I thought it only courteous to address -now and then, I exclaimed: - -“You are very strong-minded here in Roussillon! To think of having a -wedding on a Friday, madame! We are more superstitious in Paris; no -one would dare to take a wife on that day.” - -“Mon Dieu! don’t mention it,” said she; “if it had depended on me, -they certainly would have chosen another day. But Peyrehorade would -have it so, and I had to give way to him. It distresses me, however. -Suppose anything should happen? There must surely be some reason for -the superstition, for why else should every one be afraid of Friday?” - -“Friday!” cried her husband; “Friday is Venus’s day! A splendid day -for a wedding! You see, my dear colleague, I think of nothing but my -Venus. On my honour, it was on her account that I chose a Friday. -To-morrow, if you are willing, before the wedding, we will offer a -little sacrifice to her; we will sacrifice two pigeons, if I can find -any incense.” - -“For shame, Peyrehorade!” his wife interposed, scandalised to the last -degree. “Burn incense to an idol! That would be an abomination! What -would people in the neighbourhood say about you?” - -“At least,” said M. de Peyrehorade, “you will allow me to place a -wreath of roses and lilies on her head: - - “‘Manibus date lilia plenis.’ - -The charter, you see, monsieur, is an empty word; we have no freedom of -worship!” - -The order of ceremonies for the following day was thus arranged: -everybody was to be fully dressed and ready at precisely ten o’clock. -After taking a cup of chocolate, we were to drive to Puygarrig. The -civil ceremony would take place at the mayor’s office of that village, -and the religious ceremony in the chapel of the château. Then there -would be a breakfast. After that, we were to pass the time as best we -could until seven o’clock, when we were to return to Ille, to M. de -Peyrehorade’s, where the two families were to sup together. The rest -followed as a matter of course. Being unable to dance, the plan was to -eat as much as possible. - -At eight o’clock I was already seated in front of the Venus, pencil -in hand, beginning for the twentieth time to draw the head of the -statue, whose expression I was still absolutely unable to catch. -M. de Peyrehorade hovered about me, gave me advice, and repeated -his Phœnician etymologies; then he arranged some Bengal roses on -the pedestal of the statue, and in a tragi-comic tone addressed -supplications to it for the welfare of the couple who were to live -under his roof. About nine o’clock he returned to the house to dress, -and at the same time M. Alphonse appeared, encased in a tightly fitting -new coat, white gloves, patent-leather shoes, and carved buttons, with -a rose in his buttonhole. - -“Will you paint my wife’s portrait?” he asked, leaning over my drawing; -“she is pretty, too.” - -At that moment a game of tennis began on the court I have mentioned, -and it immediately attracted M. Alphonse’s attention. And I myself, -being rather tired, and hopeless of being able to reproduce that -diabolical face, soon left my drawing to watch the players. Among them -were several Spanish muleteers who had arrived in the town the night -before. There were Aragonese and Navarrese, almost all wonderfully -skillful at the game. So that the men of Ille, although encouraged by -the presence and counsels of M. Alphonse, were speedily beaten by these -new champions. The native spectators were appalled. M. Alphonse glanced -at his watch. It was only half after nine. His mother’s hair was not -dressed. He no longer hesitated, but took off his coat, asked for a -jacket, and challenged the Spaniards. I watched him, smiling at his -eagerness, and a little surprised. - -“I must uphold the honour of the province,” he said to me. - -At that moment I considered him really handsome. He was thoroughly -in earnest. His costume, which engrossed him so completely a moment -before, was of no consequence. A few minutes earlier he was afraid to -turn his head for fear of disarranging his cravat. Now, he paid no heed -to his carefully curled locks, or to his beautifully laundered ruff. -And his fiancée?--Faith, I believe that, if it had been necessary, he -would have postponed the wedding. I saw him hastily put on a pair of -sandals, turn back his sleeves, and with an air of confidence take his -place at the head of the beaten side, like Cæsar rallying his legions -at Dyrrhachium. I leaped over the hedge and found a convenient place in -the shade of a plum-tree, where I could see both camps. - -Contrary to general expectation, M. Alphonse missed the first ball; to -be sure, it skimmed along the ground, driven with astounding force by -an Aragonese who seemed to be the leader of the Spaniards. - -He was a man of some forty years, thin and wiry, about six feet tall; -and his olive skin was almost as dark as the bronze of the Venus. - -M. Alphonse dashed his racquet to the ground in a passion. - -“It was this infernal ring,” he cried: “it caught my finger and made me -miss a sure ball!” - -He removed the diamond ring, not without difficulty, and I stepped -forward to take it; but he anticipated me, ran to the Venus, slipped -the ring on her third finger, and resumed his position at the head of -his townsmen. - -He was pale, but calm and determined. Thereafter he did not make -a single mistake, and the Spaniards were completely routed. The -enthusiasm of the spectators was a fine spectacle; some shouted for joy -again and again, and tossed their caps in the air; others shook his -hands and called him an honour to the province. If he had repelled an -invasion, I doubt whether he would have received more enthusiastic and -more sincere congratulations. The chagrin of the defeated party added -still more to the splendour of his victory. - -“We will play again, my good fellow,” he said to the Aragonese in a -lofty tone; “but I will give you points.” - -I should have been glad if M. Alphonse had been more modest, and I -was almost distressed by his rival’s humiliation. The Spanish giant -felt the insult keenly. I saw him turn pale under his tanned skin. He -glanced with a sullen expression at his racquet, and ground his teeth; -then he muttered in a voice choked with rage: - -“_Me lo pagarás!_” - -M. de Peyrehorade’s appearance interrupted his son’s triumph. My host, -greatly surprised not to find him superintending the harnessing of -the new calèche, was much more surprised when he saw him drenched -with perspiration, and with his racquet in his hand. M. Alphonse ran -to the house, washed his face and hands, resumed his new coat and his -patent-leather boots, and five minutes later we were driving rapidly -toward Puygarrig. All the tennis players of the town and a great number -of spectators followed us with joyous shouts. The stout horses that -drew us could hardly keep in advance of those dauntless Catalans. - -We had reached Puygarrig, and the procession was about to start for -the mayor’s office, when M. Alphonse put his hand to his forehead and -whispered to me: - -“What a fool I am! I have forgotten the ring! It is on the Venus’s -finger, the devil take her! For Heaven’s sake, don’t tell my mother. -Perhaps she will not notice anything.” - -“You might send some one to get it,” I said. - -“No, no! my servant stayed at Ille, and I don’t trust these people -here. Twelve hundred francs’ worth of diamonds! that might be too much -of a temptation for more than one of them. Besides, what would they all -think of my absent-mindedness? They would make too much fun of me. They -would call me the statue’s husband.--However, I trust that no one will -steal it. Luckily, all my knaves are afraid of the idol. They don’t -dare go within arm’s length of it.--Bah! it’s no matter; I have another -ring.” - -The two ceremonies, civil and religious, were performed with suitable -pomp, and Mademoiselle de Puygarrig received a ring that formerly -belonged to a milliner’s girl at Paris, with no suspicion that her -husband was bestowing upon her a pledge of love. Then we betook -ourselves to the table, where we ate and drank, yes, and sang, all at -great length. I sympathised with the bride amid the vulgar merriment -that burst forth all about her; however, she put a better face on it -than I could have hoped, and her embarrassment was neither awkwardness -nor affectation. It may be that courage comes of itself with difficult -situations. - -The breakfast came to an end when God willed; it was four o’clock; the -men went out to walk in the park, which was magnificent, or watched the -peasant girls of Puygarrig, dressed in their gala costumes, dance on -the lawn in front of the château. In this way, we passed several hours. -Meanwhile the women were hovering eagerly about the bride, who showed -them her wedding gifts. Then she changed her dress, and I observed -that she had covered her lovely hair with a cap and a hat adorned with -feathers; for there is nothing that wives are in such a hurry to do as -to assume as soon as possible those articles of apparel which custom -forbids them to wear when they are still unmarried. - -It was nearly eight o’clock when we prepared to start for Ille. -But before we started there was a pathetic scene. Mademoiselle de -Puygarrig’s aunt, who had taken the place of a mother to her, a woman -of a very advanced age and very religious, was not to go to the town -with us. At our departure, she delivered a touching sermon to her niece -on her duties as a wife, the result of which was a torrent of tears, -and embraces without end. M. de Peyrehorade compared this separation to -the abduction of the Sabine women. - -We started at last, however, and on the road we all exerted ourselves -to the utmost to divert the bride and make her laugh; but it was all to -no purpose. - -At Ille supper awaited us, and such a supper! If the vulgar hilarity of -the morning had disgusted me, I was fairly sickened by the equivocal -remarks and jests which were aimed at the groom, and especially at the -bride. M. Alphonse, who had disappeared a moment before taking his -place at the table, was as pale as death and as solemn as an iceberg. -He kept drinking old Collioure wine, almost as strong as brandy. I was -by his side and felt in duty bound to warn him. - -“Take care! they say that this wine----” - -I have no idea what foolish remark I made, to put myself in unison with -the other guests. - -He pressed my knee with his and said in a very low tone: - -“When we leave the table, let me have a word with you.” - -His solemn tone surprised me. I looked at him more closely and noticed -the extraordinary change in his expression. - -“Are you feeling ill?” I asked him. - -“No.” - -And he returned to his drinking. - -Meanwhile, amid shouts and clapping of hands, a child of eleven years, -who had slipped under the table, exhibited to the guests a dainty white -and rose-coloured ribbon which he had taken from the bride’s ankle. -They called that her garter. It was immediately cut into pieces and -distributed among the young men, who decorated their buttonholes with -them, according to an ancient custom still observed in some patriarchal -families. This episode caused the bride to blush to the whites of her -eyes. But her confusion reached its height when M. de Peyrehorade, -having called for silence, sang some Catalan verses, impromptu, so he -said. Their meaning, so far as I understood it, was this: - -“Pray, what is this, my friends? Does the wine I have drunk make me see -double? There are two Venuses here----” - -The bridegroom abruptly turned his head away with a terrified -expression which made everybody laugh. - -“Yes,” continued M. de Peyrehorade, “there are two Venuses beneath my -roof. One I found in the earth, like a truffle; the other, descended -from the skies, has come to share her girdle with us.” - -He meant to say her garter. - -“My son, choose whichever you prefer--the Roman or the Catalan Venus. -The rascal chooses the Catalan, and his choice is wise. The Roman is -black, the Catalan white. The Roman is cold, the Catalan inflames all -who approach her.” - -This deliverance caused such an uproar, such noisy applause and such -roars of laughter, that I thought that the ceiling would fall on our -heads. There were only three sober faces at the table--those of the -bride and groom, and my own. I had a terrible headache; and then, -for some unknown reason, a wedding always depresses me. This one, in -addition, disgusted me more or less. - -The last couplets having been sung by the mayor’s deputy--and they were -very free, I must say--we went to the salon to make merry over the -retirement of the bride, who was soon to be escorted to her chamber, -for it was near midnight. - -M. Alphonse led me into a window recess, and said to me, averting his -eyes: - -“You will laugh at me, but I don’t know what the matter is with me; I -am bewitched! the devil has got hold of me!” - -The first idea that came to my mind was that he believed himself to be -threatened by some misfortune of the sort of which Montaigne and Madame -de Sévigné speak: - -“The sway of love is always full of tragic episodes,” etc. - -“I supposed that accidents of that sort happened only to men of -intellect,” I said to myself.--“You have drunk too much Collioure wine, -my dear Monsieur Alphonse,” I said aloud. “I warned you.” - -“Yes, that may be. But there is something much more terrible than -that.” - -He spoke in a halting voice. I concluded that he was downright tipsy. - -“You remember my ring?” he continued, after a pause. - -“Well! has it been stolen?” - -“No.” - -“Then you have it?” - -“No--I--I can’t take it off that infernal Venus’s finger!” - -“Nonsense! you didn’t pull hard enough.” - -“Yes, I did. But the Venus--she has bent her finger.” - -He looked me in the eye with a haggard expression, leaning against the -window-frame to avoid falling. - -“What a fable!” I said. “You pushed the ring on too far. To-morrow you -can recover it with a pair of pincers. But take care that you don’t -injure the statue.” - -“No, I tell you. The Venus’s finger is drawn in, bent; she has closed -her hand--do you understand? She is my wife, apparently, as I have -given her my ring. She refuses to give it back.” - -I felt a sudden shiver, and for a moment I was all goose-flesh. Then, -as he heaved a profound sigh, he sent a puff of alcoholic fumes into my -face, and all my emotion vanished. - -“The wretch is completely drunk,” I thought. - -“You are an antiquary, monsieur,” continued the bridegroom in a piteous -tone; “you know all about these statues; perhaps there is some spring, -some devilish contrivance that I don’t know about. Suppose you were to -go out and look?” - -“Willingly,” I said; “come with me.” - -“No, I prefer that you should go alone.” - -I left the salon. - -The weather had changed while we were at supper, and the rain was -beginning to fall violently. I was about to ask for an umbrella when a -sudden reflection detained me. “I should be a great fool,” I said to -myself, “to take any trouble to verify what an intoxicated man tells -me! Perhaps, too, he is trying to play some wretched joke on me, in -order to give these worthy provincials something to laugh at; and the -least that can happen to me is to be drenched to the skin and to catch -a heavy cold.” - -I glanced from the door at the statue, which was dripping wet, and -then went up to my room without returning to the salon. I went to bed, -but sleep was a long while coming. All the scenes of the day passed -through my mind. I thought of that lovely, pure maiden delivered to the -tender mercies of a brutal sot. “What a hateful thing a _mariage de -convenance_ is!” I said to myself. “A mayor dons a tri-coloured scarf, -a curé a stole, and lo! the most virtuous girl imaginable is abandoned -to the Minotaur! Two persons who do not love each other--what can they -have to say at such a moment, which two true lovers would purchase at -the cost of their lives? Can a woman ever love a man whom she has once -seen make a beast of himself? First impressions are not easily effaced, -and I am sure that this Monsieur Alphonse well deserves to be detested.” - -During my monologue, which I have abridged very materially, I had heard -much coming and going about the house, doors opening and closing, -carriages driving away; then I fancied that I heard in the hall the -light footsteps of several women walking toward the farther end of -the corridor opposite my room. It was probably the procession of the -bride, who was being escorted to her bedroom. Then I heard the steps go -downstairs again. Madame de Peyrehorade’s door closed. - -“How perturbed and ill at ease that poor child must be,” I thought. - -I turned and twisted in my bed, in an execrable humour. A bachelor -plays an absurd rôle in a house where a marriage is being celebrated. - -Silence had reigned for some time, when it was broken by heavy steps -ascending the staircase. The wooden stairs creaked loudly. - -“What a brute!” I cried. “I’ll wager that he will fall on the stairs!” - -Everything became quiet once more. I took up a book in order to change -the current of my thoughts. It was a volume of departmental statistics, -embellished by an article from the pen of M. de Peyrehorade on the -druidical remains in the arrondissement of Prades. I dozed at the third -page. - -I slept badly and woke several times. It might have been five o’clock, -and I had been awake more than twenty minutes, when a cock crew. Day -was just breaking. Suddenly I heard the same heavy steps, the same -creaking of the stairs that I had heard before I fell asleep. That -struck me as peculiar. I tried, yawning sleepily, to divine why M. -Alphonse should rise so early. I could imagine no probable cause. I was -about to close my eyes again when my attention was once more attracted -by a strange tramping, to which was soon added the jangling of bells -and the noise of doors violently thrown open; then I distinguished -confused outcries. - -“My drunkard must have set fire to something!” I thought, as I leaped -out of bed. - -I dressed in hot haste and went out into the corridor. From the farther -end came shrieks and lamentations, and one heartrending voice rose -above all the rest: “My son! my son!” It was evident that something -had happened to M. Alphonse. I ran to the bridal chamber; it was full -of people. The first object that caught my eye was the young man, half -dressed, lying across the bed, the framework of which was broken. -He was livid and absolutely motionless. His mother was weeping and -shrieking by his side. M. de Peyrehorade was bustling about, rubbing -his temples with eau de cologne, or holding salts to his nose. Alas! -his son had been dead a long while. - -On a couch, at the other end of the room, was the bride, in frightful -convulsions. She was uttering incoherent cries, and two strong -maidservants had all the difficulty in the world in holding her. - -“Great God!” I cried, “what has happened?” - -I walked to the bed and raised the unfortunate young man’s body; it was -already cold and stiff. His clenched teeth and livid face expressed -the most horrible anguish. It seemed perfectly evident that his death -had been a violent one, and the death agony indescribably terrible. -But there was no sign of blood on his clothes. I opened his shirt and -found on his breast a purple mark which extended around the loins and -across the back. One would have said that he had been squeezed by an -iron ring. My foot came in contact with something hard on the carpet; I -stooped and saw the diamond ring. - -I dragged M. de Peyrehorade and his wife to their room; then I caused -the bride to be taken thither. - -“You still have a daughter,” I said to them; “you owe to her your -devoted care.” - -Then I left them alone. - -It seemed to me to be beyond question that M. Alphonse had been the -victim of a murder, the authors of which had found a way to introduce -themselves into the bride’s bedroom at night. The marks on the breast -and their circular character puzzled me a good deal, however, for a -club or an iron bar could not have produced them. Suddenly I remembered -having heard that in Valencia the _bravi_ used long leather bags -filled with fine sand to murder people whom they were hired to kill. -I instantly recalled the Aragonese muleteer and his threat; and yet I -hardly dared think that he would have wreaked such a terrible vengeance -for a trivial jest. - -I walked about the house, looking everywhere for traces of a break, -and finding nothing. I went down into the garden, to see whether the -assassins might have forced their way in on that side of the house; -but I found no definite indications. Indeed, the rain of the preceding -night had so saturated the ground that it could not have retained any -distinct impression. I observed, however, several very deep footprints; -they pointed in two opposite directions, but in the same line, leading -from the corner of the hedge next the tennis-court to the gateway of -the house. They might well be M. Alphonse’s steps when he went out to -take his ring from the finger of the statue. On the other hand, the -hedge was less dense at that point than elsewhere, and the murderers -might have passed through it there. As I went back and forth in front -of the statue, I paused a moment to look at it. That time, I will -confess, I was unable to contemplate without terror its expression -of devilish irony; and, with my head full of the horrible scenes I -had witnessed, I fancied that I had before me an infernal divinity, -exulting over the disaster that had stricken that house. - -I returned to my room and remained there till noon. Then I went out and -inquired concerning my hosts. They were a little calmer. Mademoiselle -de Puygarrig--I should say M. Alphonse’s widow--had recovered her -senses. She had even talked with the king’s attorney from Perpignan, -then on circuit at Ille, and that magistrate had taken her deposition. -He desired mine also. I told him what I knew and made no secret of my -suspicions of the Aragonese muleteer. He ordered that he should be -arrested immediately. - -“Did you learn anything from Madame Alphonse?” I asked the king’s -attorney, when my deposition was written out and signed. - -“That unfortunate young woman has gone mad,” he replied, with a sad -smile. “Mad! absolutely mad! This is what she told me: - -“She had been in bed, she said, a few minutes, with the curtains drawn, -when her bedroom door opened and some one came in. At that time Madame -Alphonse was on the inside of the bed, with her face towards the wall. -Supposing, of course, that it was her husband, she did not move. A -moment later, the bed creaked as if under an enormous weight. She was -terribly frightened, but dared not turn her head. Five minutes, ten -minutes perhaps,--she can only guess at the time--passed in this way. -Then she made an involuntary movement, or else the other person in the -bed made one, and she felt the touch of something as cold as ice--that -was her expression. She moved closer to the wall, trembling in every -limb. Shortly after, the door opened a second time, and some one came -in, who said: ‘Good-evening, my little wife.’ Soon the curtains were -drawn aside. She heard a stifled cry. The person who was in the bed by -her side sat up and seemed to put out its arms. Thereupon she turned -her head, and saw, so she declares, her husband on his knees beside the -bed, with his head on a level with the pillow, clasped in the arms of a -sort of greenish giant, who was squeezing him with terrible force. She -says--and she repeated it twenty times, poor woman!--she says that she -recognised--can you guess whom?--the bronze Venus, M. de Peyrehorade’s -statue. Since she was unearthed, the whole neighbourhood dreams of her. -But I continue the story of that unhappy mad woman. At that sight she -lost consciousness, and it is probable that she had lost her reason -some moments before. She could give me no idea at all how long she -remained in her swoon. Recovering her senses, she saw the phantom, or, -as she still insists, the statue, motionless, with its legs and the -lower part of the body in the bed, the bust and arms stretched out, and -in its arms her husband, also motionless. A cock crew. Thereupon the -statue got out of bed, dropped the dead body, and left the room. Madame -Alphonse rushed for the bell-cord, and you know the rest.” - -The Spaniard was arrested; he was calm, and defended himself with much -self-possession and presence of mind. He did not deny making the remark -I had overheard; but he explained it by saying that he had meant -simply this: that, on the following day, having rested meanwhile, he -would beat his victorious rival at tennis. I remember that he added: - -“An Aragonese, when he is insulted, doesn’t wait until the next day for -his revenge. If I had thought that Monsieur Alphonse intended to insult -me, I would have driven my knife into his belly on the spot.” - -His shoes were compared with the footprints in the garden, and were -found to be much larger. - -Lastly, the innkeeper at whose house he was staying deposed that he had -passed the whole night rubbing and doctoring one of his mules, which -was sick. Furthermore, the Aragonese was a man of excellent reputation, -well known in the province, where he came every year in the course of -his business. So he was released with apologies. - -I have forgotten the deposition of a servant, who was the last person -to see M. Alphonse alive. It was just as he was going up to his wife; -he called the man and asked him with evident anxiety if he knew where I -was. The servant replied that he had not seen me. Thereupon M. Alphonse -sighed and stood more than a minute without speaking; then he said: - -“_Well! the devil must have taken him away, too!_” - -I asked him if M. Alphonse had his diamond ring on his finger when he -spoke to him. The servant hesitated before he replied; at last he said -that he did not think so, but that he had not noticed particularly. - -“If he had had that ring on his finger,” he added upon reflection, “I -should certainly have noticed it, for I thought that he had given it to -Madame Alphonse.” - -As I questioned this man, I was conscious of a touch of the -superstitious terror with which Madame Alphonse’s deposition had -infected the whole household. The king’s attorney glanced at me with a -smile, and I did not persist. - -Some hours after M. Alphonse’s funeral, I prepared to leave Ille. M. -de Peyrehorade’s carriage was to take me to Perpignan. Despite his -enfeebled condition, the poor old man insisted upon attending me to his -garden gate. We passed through the garden in silence; he, hardly able -to drag himself alone, leaning on my arm. As we were about to part, -I cast a last glance at the Venus. I foresaw that my host, although -he did not share the terror and detestation which she inspired in a -portion of his family, would be glad to be rid of an object which would -constantly remind him of a shocking calamity. It was my purpose to urge -him to place it in some museum. I hesitated about opening the subject, -when M. de Peyrehorade mechanically turned his head in the direction in -which he saw that I was gazing earnestly. His eye fell upon the statue, -and he instantly burst into tears. I embraced him, and, afraid to say a -single word, entered the carriage. - -I never learned, subsequent to my departure, that any new light had -been thrown upon that mysterious catastrophe. - -M. de Peyrehorade died a few months after his son. By his will he -bequeathed to me his manuscripts, which I shall publish some day, -perhaps. I found among them no memoir relating to the inscriptions on -the Venus. - - * * * * * - -P. S.--My friend M. de P. has recently written me from Perpignan that -the statue no longer exists. After her husband’s death, Madame de -Peyrehorade’s first care was to have it melted into a bell, and in that -new shape it is now used in the church at Ille. - -“But,” M. de P. adds, “it would seem that an evil fate pursues all -those who possess that bronze. Since that bell has rung at Ille the -vines have frozen twice.” - - 1837. - - - - -Transcriber’s Note - - -Minor printer’s errors were corrected by the transcriber; otherwise, as -far as possible, original spelling and punctuation have been retained. - -There were many errors in the ancient Greek in the printed text; some -of these were introduced by the translator, and some were present in -the French edition. In this file, as far as possible, the ancient Greek -is identical to that of the English text as printed. - -In this file, text in _italics_ is indicated by underscores. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPER MÉRIMÉE'S SHORT -STORIES *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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