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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 <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. 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. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Prosper Mérimée's Short Stories</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Prosper Mérimée</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Translator: George Burnham Ives</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Contributor: Grace King</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: March 17, 2022 [eBook #67643]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>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)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPER MÉRIMÉE'S SHORT STORIES ***</div> - - - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</span></p> - -<p class="center p200"><b>LITTLE FRENCH MASTERPIECES</b></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop full" /> - - -<div class="figcenter illowp56 chap" id="frontispiece" style="max-width: 93.625em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/frontispiece.jpg" alt="" title="Frontispiece" /> - <div class="caption"><p><span class="smcap">Prosper Mérimée</span></p> - -<p>From an etching</p></div> -</div> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop full" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</span></p> - - - -<div class="chap"> -<h1>Prosper Mérimée’s<br /> -<span class="p90">Short Stories</span></h1> -</div> - -<p class="blocktext p125 p3" style="width: 12em;"><b>Carmen<br /> -The Taking of the Redoubt<br /> -The Venus of Ille, etc.</b></p> - -<p class="center p3"><span class="p105"><b>Translated by</b></span><br /> -<span class="p140"><b>George Burnham Ives</b></span></p> - -<p class="center p3"><span class="p105"><b>With an Introduction by</b></span><br /> -<span class="p140"><b>Grace King</b></span></p> - -<p class="center p6"> -<span class="p140"><b>G. P. Putnam’s Sons</b></span><br /> -<span class="p130"><b>New York and London</b></span><br /> -<span class="p120"><b>The Knickerbocker Press</b></span><br /> -<span class="p110"><b>1909</b></span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop full" /> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</span></p> - -<div class="chap"> -<p class="center"><span class="smcap"><b>Copyright</b></span><b>, 1903<br /> -BY</b><br /> -<span class="p110"><b>G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS</b></span></p></div> - - -<p class="center p4 p110"><b>The Knickerbocker Press, New York</b> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop full" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Contents">Contents</h2> -</div> - - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</span></p> - -<table style="width:20em"> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"></td> -<td class="tdr p80">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Prosper Mérimée</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Introduction">ix</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Carmen</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Carmen">3</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Taking of the Redoubt</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#The_Taking_of_the_Redoubt">137</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">Mateo Falcone</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Mateo_Falcone">151</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdl"><span class="smcap">The Venus of Ille</span></td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#The_Venus_of_Ille">181</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop full" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</span></p> - - -<h2 class="nobreak mb0" id="Introduction">Introduction<br /> - -<span class="p90">Prosper Mérimée</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class="center"><b>(1803-1870)</b></p> - - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</span> -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.</p> - -<p><cite>Carmen</cite>, 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, <cite>The -Plays of Clara Gazul</cite>, 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.</p> - -<p>It was not until 1830 (after the publication -of <cite>Mateo Falcone</cite> and <cite>The Taking of the Redoubt</cite>) -that Mérimée saw Spain with the eyes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</span> -of his body, and became naturalised in that -part of it, that, as he describes it, “was -bounded on the north by a <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitana</i> and on -the south by a carbine,” whose patois he spoke -fluently, in whose <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">ventas</i> 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.</p> - -<p>Mérimée had so long before this story<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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 <cite>Colomba</cite>, nor suspicion of premeditated -pathos as in the supremely pathetic <cite>Arsène -Guillot</cite>. Form and pathos are no more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><cite>The Taking of the Redoubt</cite> resembles -<cite>Carmen</cite> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</span> -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 <cite>The Taking of the -Redoubt</cite>. 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.</p> - -<p>In the list of Mérimée’s stories <cite>Mateo Falcone</cite> -stands immediately before <cite>The Taking -of the Redoubt</cite>. 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xv">[Pg xv]</span> -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 <cite>The Taking -of the Redoubt</cite>. 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 -<cite>Clara Gazul</cite> and <cite>La Guzla</cite>, 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</span> -child, the unfortunate Fortunato, stands out -against the artificial background of place, -time, and circumstance, with a vividness of -reality that, as in <cite>The Taking of the Redoubt</cite>, -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.</p> - -<p>He himself considered <cite>The Venus of Ille</cite> -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 <cite>Lettres Inédites</cite>: -“You cannot imagine, madame, the difference<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_xix">[Pg xix]</span> -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.</p> - -<div class="figright illowp60" id="signature" style="max-width: 30em;"> - <img class="w100" src="images/signature.jpg" alt="" /> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_xx">[Pg xx]</span></p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Carmen">Carmen</h2> -</div> - -<p class="ml5 mb0">Πᾶσα γυνὴ χόλος ἐστίν· ἔχει δ' ἀγαθάς δύο ὥρας<br /> -Τήν μίαν ἐν θαλάμω, τήν μίαν ἐν θανάτω.</p> - -<p class="p0 ml20"> -<span class="smcap">Palladas.</span> -</p> - - -<h3>I</h3> - -<p>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 <cite>Bellum Hispaniense</cite>, 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>I had hired a guide and two horses at Cordova, -and had taken the field with no other -impedimenta than Cæsar’s <cite>Commentaries</cite> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> -lay flat on my stomach, like the wicked soldiers -of Gideon.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, señor,” he replied.</p> - -<p>Those were the first words that he had -uttered, and I noticed that he did not pronounce -the s after the Andalusian fashion,<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> -whence I concluded that he was a traveller -like myself, minus the archæologist.</p> - -<p>“You will find this rather good,” I said, -offering him a genuine Havana regalia.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>In Spain, a cigar offered and accepted establishes -hospitable relations, just as the sharing -of bread and salt does in the East. My man<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> -became more talkative than I had hoped. But, -although he claimed to live in the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">partido</i> 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.</p> - -<p>“You see, I was in a hurry to get to Cordova,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -he added, with some embarrassment. -“I had to present a petition to the judges in -the matter of a lawsuit.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he glanced at my guide, Antonio, -who lowered his eyes.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> -from each other, but I was unable to divine -its cause.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I replied, before I had noticed a signal from -my guide, that I was going on to the Venta -del Cuervo.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“With great pleasure,” I replied, mounting -my horse.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Antonio’s mysterious signs, his evident uneasiness,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Suppose I were riding beside José Maria!” -I said to myself.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“José Maria is a villain pure and simple,” -observed the stranger, coldly.</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> -velvet jacket with silver buttons, white leather -gaiters, a bay horse. There is no doubt of -it! But I will respect his incognito.”</p> - -<p>We arrived at the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">venta</i>. 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span></p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>At sight of my companion, the old woman -uttered an exclamation of surprise.</p> - -<p>“Ah! Señor Don José!” she cried.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gaspacho</i>, a -sort of pepper salad. Three dishes thus highly -seasoned compelled us to have frequent recourse -to a skin of Montilla wine, which was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“No,” she replied, “but Don José plays it -so well!”</p> - -<p>“Be good enough,” I said to him, “to sing -me something; I am passionately fond of your -national music.”</p> - -<p>“I can refuse no request of such a gallant -gentleman, who gives me such excellent -cigars,” said Don José, good-naturedly.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“If I am not mistaken,” I said, “that is -not a Spanish air. It resembles the <i lang="eu" xml:lang="eu">zorzicos</i> -which I have heard in the Provinces,<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> and the -words must be Basque.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> -<p>“Yes,” replied Don José, with a gloomy -air.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> - -<p>“To the stable,” was the guide’s reply.</p> - -<p>“What for? The horses have their feed. -Sleep here; the señor will not object.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Where is he?” he asked in a whisper.</p> - -<p>“In the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">venta</i>; he is asleep; he has no fear -of fleas. Why are you taking that horse -away?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>As we talked we had walked so far from -the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">venta</i> that the noise of the horse’s shoes -could not be heard there. Antonio, in a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -twinkling, removed the rags in which he had -wrapped them, and prepared to mount. I -tried to detain him by entreaties and threats.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The rascal was already in the saddle; he -dug both spurs into the horse, and I soon lost -sight of him in the darkness.</p> - -<p>I was very angry with my guide, and -decidedly uneasy. After a moment’s reflection, -I decided what to do, and returned to -the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">venta</i>. 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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> -which, as a precautionary measure, I had -placed at some distance from his couch.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He sprang to his feet and demanded in a -terrible voice:</p> - -<p>“Who told you?”</p> - -<p>“It matters little whence the warning comes, -provided that it be well founded.”</p> - -<p>“Your guide has betrayed me, but he shall -pay me for it! Where is he?”</p> - -<p>“I don’t know; in the stable, I think.—But -some one told me——”</p> - -<p>“Who told you? It couldn’t have been -the old woman.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>And I offered him my hand.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> -from the gibbet, simply because I had -eaten ham and rice <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">à la Valenciennes</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -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.</p> - - -<h3>II</h3> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span> -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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">à la francesca</i>. 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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">papelito</i>. 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -that I might safely venture to invite her to -take an ice at the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">neveria</i>.<a id="FNanchor_3" href="#Footnote_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> 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.</p> - -<p>“What wonderful things you foreigners -invent! From what country are you, señor? -An Englishman, no doubt?”<a id="FNanchor_4" href="#Footnote_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> - -<p>“A Frenchman, and your humble servant. -And you, señorita, or señora, are of Cordova, I -presume?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“You are an Andalusian, at all events. It -seems to me that I can tell that by your soft -speech.”</p> - -<p>“If you observe everybody’s speech so -closely, you should be able to guess what I -am.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> - -<p>“I believe that you are from the land of -Jesus, within two steps of paradise.”</p> - -<p>(I had learned this metaphor, which designates -Andalusia, from my friend Francisco -Sevilla, a well-known picador.)</p> - -<p>“Bah! paradise—the people about here -say that it wasn’t made for us.”</p> - -<p>“In that case you must be a Moor, or——”</p> - -<p>I checked myself, not daring to say “Jewess.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! you see well enough that I am -a gypsy; would you like me to tell your -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">baji</i>?<a id="FNanchor_5" href="#Footnote_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> Have you ever heard of La Carmencita? -I am she.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Pshaw!” I said to myself, “last week I -supped with a highway robber, to-day I will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> -eat ices with a handmaid of the devil. When -one is travelling, one must see everything.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>While talking together we had entered the -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">neveria</i> 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 -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitana</i>, while divers respectable folk who were -eating ices there lost themselves in amazement -at seeing me in such goodly company.</p> - -<p>I seriously doubt whether Señorita Carmen -was of the pure breed; at all events, she was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> -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 <em>so’s</em>; 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Is it real gold?” she inquired, scrutinising -it with extraordinary attention.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> or <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">chipe calli</i>, the -language of the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitanos</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately we were soon disturbed.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitana</i> 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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">payllo</i>, 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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<p>“What! is it you, señor?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Always the same! This must come to -an end,” he said between his teeth, glaring -savagely at the girl.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> -I had some suspicion that the throat in question -was my own.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Go straight ahead and you will come to -the bridge.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Various considerations deterred me from -going the next day to demand it back, or<span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">paters</i> and <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">aves</i>, which I -do not regret, for the welfare of your soul.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -So you were not murdered?—for robbed we -know that you were.”</p> - -<p>“How so?” I asked, not a little astonished.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“That is to say,” I interrupted, somewhat -disconcerted, “I lost it——”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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——”</p> - -<p>“Oh! do not be alarmed on that score;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span> -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<a id="FNanchor_6" href="#Footnote_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> 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.”</p> - -<p>“What is his name?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span></p> -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Would you,” he added timidly,—“would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -you be willing to have one said also for a -person who injured you?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He took my hand and pressed it, with a -solemn expression. After a moment’s silence, -he continued:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - - -<h3>III</h3> - -<p>“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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Don</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">maquilas</i>,<a id="FNanchor_7" href="#Footnote_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> -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,<a id="FNanchor_8" href="#Footnote_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -plaited tresses falling over their shoulders.<a id="FNanchor_9" href="#Footnote_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> -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 -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitanella</i>!’ 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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Compadre</i>,’ she said in Andalusian fashion, -‘will you give me your chain to hold the -keys of my strong-box?’</p> - -<p>“‘It is to hold my primer’ [<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">épinglette</i>], I -replied.</p> - -<p>“‘Your <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">épinglette</i>!’ she exclaimed, with a -laugh. ‘Ah! the señor makes lace, since he -needs pins!’ [<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">épingles</i>]</p> - -<p>“Everybody present began to laugh, and I -felt the blood rise to my cheeks, nor could I -think of any answer to make.</p> - -<p>“‘Well, my heart,’ she continued, ‘make<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -me seven ells of black lace for a mantilla, pincushion -[<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">épinglier</i>] of my soul!’</p> - -<p>“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!</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘Confession! Confession! I am killed!’ -shrieked the wounded woman.</p> - -<p>“Carmen said nothing; she clenched her -teeth and rolled her eyes about like a chameleon.</p> - -<p>“‘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.</p> - -<p>“‘I say,’ said Carmen, who had a tongue<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘Let us go. Where’s my mantilla?’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘Where are you taking me, my officer?’</p> - -<p>“‘To prison, my poor child,’ I replied, as -gently as possible, as a good soldier should -speak to a prisoner, especially to a woman.</p> - -<p>“‘Alas! what will become of me? Señor -officer, take pity on me. You are so young,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> -so good looking!’ Then she added, in a -lower tone: ‘Let me escape, and I’ll give -you a piece of the <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">bar lachi</i>, which will make -all women love you.’</p> - -<p>“The <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">bar lachi</i>, 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:</p> - -<p>“‘We are not here to talk nonsense; you -must go to prison—that is the order, and -there is no way to avoid it.’</p> - -<p>“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 -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">baï, jaona</i>.<a id="FNanchor_10" href="#Footnote_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘<i lang="eu" xml:lang="eu">Laguna ene bihotsarena</i>, comrade of my -heart,’ she said to me abruptly, ‘are you -from the provinces?’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>He continued after a pause:</p> - -<p>“‘I am from Elizondo,’ I replied in Basque, -deeply moved to hear my native tongue -spoken.</p> - -<p>“‘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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -mother, who has no one but me to support -her, and a little <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">barratcea</i><a id="FNanchor_11" href="#Footnote_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> 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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">jacques</i><a id="FNanchor_12" href="#Footnote_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> with their -knives, wouldn’t frighten one of our boys -with his blue cap and his <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">maquila</i>. Comrade, -my friend, won’t you do anything for a -countrywoman?’</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“Faith, I forgot orders and everything, and -said to her:</p> - -<p>“‘Well, my dear, my countrywoman, try -it, and may Our Lady of the Mountain be -with you!’</p> - -<p>“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;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -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!<a id="FNanchor_13" href="#Footnote_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> 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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>“One day the jailer came in and gave me an -Alcala<a id="FNanchor_14" href="#Footnote_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> loaf.</p> - -<p>“‘Here,’ said he, ‘your cousin sends you -this.’</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I was stationed at the colonel’s door. He -was a wealthy young man, a good fellow,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> -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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitanella</i>! 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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romalis</i>—that is their national dance—and -oftentimes for something else.</p> - -<p>“Carmen recognised me and we exchanged -a glance. I do not know why, but at that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> -moment I would have liked to be a hundred -feet underground.</p> - -<p>“‘<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Agur laguna</i>,’<a id="FNanchor_15" href="#Footnote_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a> she said; ‘you seem to -be mounting guard, like a raw recruit, my -officer!’</p> - -<p>“And before I had thought of a word to say -in reply, she was inside the house.</p> - -<p>“The whole company was in the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">patio</i>, and -in spite of the crowd, I could see through the -gate almost everything that took place.<a id="FNanchor_16" href="#Footnote_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -began to love her in good earnest; for I was -tempted three or four times to go into the -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">patio</i> 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:</p> - -<p>“‘My countryman, when one likes nice -fried things, one goes to Lillas Pastia’s at -Triana for them.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -since Carmen had taken up her quarters -there.</p> - -<p>“‘Lillas,’ she said, as soon as she saw me, -‘I shall do nothing more to-day. It will be -light to-morrow.<a id="FNanchor_17" href="#Footnote_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> Come, my countryman, -let’s go for a walk.’</p> - -<p>“She put her mantilla over her face, and behold, -we were in the street, I with no idea -where we were going.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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.<a id="FNanchor_18" href="#Footnote_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> Come on, we will eat it -all up. You shall treat me.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span></p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piecette</i> and a few -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">cuartos</i>, 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: -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">yemas</i>,<a id="FNanchor_19" href="#Footnote_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a> <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">turon</i>,<a id="FNanchor_20" href="#Footnote_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> 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?<a id="FNanchor_21" href="#Footnote_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> That<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> -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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i>. 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“‘You are my <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i>, and I am your <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i>!’<a id="FNanchor_22" href="#Footnote_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a></p> - -<p>“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:</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span></p> -<p>“‘I pay my debts, I pay my debts! That -is the law of the <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">cales</i>.’<a id="FNanchor_23" href="#Footnote_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a></p> - -<p>“Ah! that day, señor! that day! When -I think of it, I forget to-morrow!”</p> - -<p>The bandit was silent for a moment; then, -having relighted his cigar, he continued:</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">yemas</i> 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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romalis</i>, clapping<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Night came on and I heard the drums -beating the retreat.</p> - -<p>“‘I must go to quarters for the roll-call,’ I -said.</p> - -<p>“‘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!<a id="FNanchor_24" href="#Footnote_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> -Go! you are a chicken-hearted fellow!’</p> - -<p>“I remained, with my mind made up beforehand -to the guard-room. The next morning, -she was the first to mention parting.</p> - -<p>“‘Look you, Joseito,’ she said, ‘have I -paid you? According to our law, I owed you -nothing, as you are a <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">payllo</i>; but you are a -comely youth, and you took my fancy. We -are quits. Good-day.’</p> - -<p>“I asked her when I should see her again.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> -<p>“‘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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i>. 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.<a id="FNanchor_25" href="#Footnote_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> -Go and put a wax candle in front of your -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">majari</i>.<a id="FNanchor_26" href="#Footnote_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a> 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.’<a id="FNanchor_27" href="#Footnote_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> - -<p>“As she spoke she removed the bar that -secured the door, and once in the street, she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> -wrapped herself in her mantilla and turned -her back on me.</p> - -<p>“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,<a id="FNanchor_28" href="#Footnote_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> -knew his fish and his fritters even better. He -came to me and asked me if I had heard from -Carmen.</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ said I.</p> - -<p>“‘Well, you will, <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">compadre</i>.’</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘Go back! You cannot pass!’</p> - -<p>“‘Don’t be disagreeable,’ she said, showing -me her face.</p> - -<p>“‘What! is it you, Carmen?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, my countryman. Let us talk a -little and talk quick. Do you want to earn a -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">douro</i>? There are some men coming with -bundles; let them alone.’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ I replied. ‘I must prevent them -from passing; those are my orders.’</p> - -<p>“‘Orders! orders! So you’ve forgotten -the Rue de Candilejo?’</p> - -<p>“‘Ah!’ I exclaimed, completely overwhelmed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> -by the bare memory of that day, -‘that would be well worth the penalty of -forgetting orders; but I want no smugglers’ -money.’</p> - -<p>“‘Well, if you don’t want money, would -you like to go again to old Dorothy’s and -dine?’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ I said, half suffocated by the effort -it cost me, ‘I cannot.’</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“The next day I went to Rue de Candilejo. -Carmen kept me waiting, and when she came -she was in a villainous temper.</p> - -<p>“‘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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">douro</i> for -your trouble.’</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“‘A dragoon’s tears! I must make a love-philtre -of them!’</p> - -<p>“I raised my eyes; Carmen stood in front -of me.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“As I knew already from experience what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘Off with you, quick,’ she said to me in -Basque.</p> - -<p>“I sat as if stupefied, with rage in my -heart.</p> - -<p>“‘What are you doing here?’ the lieutenant -asked me; ‘decamp, leave this house!’</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.<a id="FNanchor_29" href="#Footnote_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a> First of all, put -this handkerchief on your head, and toss me<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> -that belt. Wait for me in this passage. I -will return in two minutes.’</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">chufas</i><a id="FNanchor_30" href="#Footnote_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> 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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">chipe calli</i>, 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.</p> - -<p>“‘My boy,’ said Carmen, ‘you must do -something. Now that the king gives you -neither rice nor dried fish,<a id="FNanchor_31" href="#Footnote_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a> you must think -about earning your living. You are too stupid -to steal <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">à pastesas</i><a id="FNanchor_32" href="#Footnote_32" class="fnanchor">[32]</a>; 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> -live like a prince as long as the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">miñons</i><a id="FNanchor_33" href="#Footnote_33" class="fnanchor">[33]</a> and -the coast-guards don’t get their hands on your -collar.’</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en croupe</i>. -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> -every <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i> retires with his <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i> under the little -tent formed of three hoops with canvas -stretched over them.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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?’</p> - -<p>“When she talked like that I felt like strangling -her.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“One day, or rather one night, our rendezvous -was at the foot of Veger. Dancaïre and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> -I arrived there before the rest. He seemed in -very high spirits.</p> - -<p>“‘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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i>, who was at the presidio at Tarifa.’</p> - -<p>“I was already beginning to understand -the gypsy tongue, which almost all my comrades -spoke, and that word <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i> gave me a -shock.</p> - -<p>“‘What’s that? her husband! is she married?’ -I asked the captain.</p> - -<p>“‘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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom’s</i> 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.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span></p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘Fool!’ shouted Garcia, ‘what have we -to do with carrion? Finish him and don’t -lose the stockings!’</p> - -<p>“‘Drop him!’ Carmen called to me.</p> - -<p>“Fatigue forced me to place him on the -ground a moment, behind a rock. Garcia -stepped up and discharged his blunderbuss at -his head.</p> - -<p>“‘It will be a clever man who will recognise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> -him now,’ he said, glancing at his face, -which was torn to shreds by a dozen bullets.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘You are the devil!’ I said to her.</p> - -<p>“‘Yes,’ she replied.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘Ha! ha! the <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">lillipendi</i>, to take me for -an <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">erani</i>!’<a id="FNanchor_34" href="#Footnote_34" class="fnanchor">[34]</a></p> - -<p>“It was Carmen, but so perfectly disguised -that I should not have recognised her if she<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“‘We shall meet again, Canary, before -you’re hung. I am going to Gibraltar on -business of Egypt. You will hear of me -soon.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Señor, a man becomes a rascal without<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“The One-Eyed said:</p> - -<p>“‘So am I too; everybody knows me -there, and I’ve played so many games on -the lobsters<a id="FNanchor_35" href="#Footnote_35" class="fnanchor">[35]</a>! and as I have only one eye, -I am hard to disguise.’</p> - -<p>“‘Shall I go then?’ said I in my turn, -overjoyed at the bare thought of seeing -Carmen again; ‘tell me, what must I do?’</p> - -<p>“The others said to me:</p> - -<p>“‘Arrange it so as to go by sea or by San -Roque, as you choose; and when you get to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> -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.’</p> - -<p>“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 -<em>to the ends of the earth</em>,<a id="FNanchor_36" href="#Footnote_36" class="fnanchor">[36]</a> 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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> -Spanish to come up, that the señora wanted -some oranges; and Carmen said in Basque:</p> - -<p>“‘Come up, and don’t be surprised at anything.’</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> -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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘Ah! indeed! Are you my <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i>, 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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">minchorrò?</i>’<a id="FNanchor_37" href="#Footnote_37" class="fnanchor">[37]</a></p> - -<p>“‘What does he say?’ asked the Englishman.</p> - -<p>“‘He says that he is thirsty and would like -to drink a glass,’ Carmen replied.</p> - -<p>“And she threw herself on a couch, roaring -with laughter at her translation.</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span></p> -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“While I was drinking:</p> - -<p>“‘Do you see that ring he has on his -finger?’ she asked me; ‘I will give it to you -if you want.’</p> - -<p>“I replied:</p> - -<p>“‘I would give a finger to have your lord -on the mountains, each of us with a <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">maquila</i> -in his hand.’</p> - -<p>“‘<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Maquila</i>—what does that mean?’ asked -the Englishman.</p> - -<p>“‘<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Maquila</i>,’ 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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">maquila</i> to eat.’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes?’ said the Englishman. ‘Well! -bring some <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">maquila</i> to-morrow.’</p> - -<p>“While we were talking, the servant<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“I made no reply, and after I was in the -street I heard the Englishman calling after -me:</p> - -<p>“‘Bring some <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">maquila</i> to-morrow!’ and I -heard Carmen’s shouts of laughter.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>“‘<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Minchorrò!</i>’ said Carmen, ‘I have a -mind to smash everything here, to set fire to -the house, and fly to the mountains!’</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘Listen,’ she said, ‘let us talk of Egypt. -I want him to take me to Ronda, where I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> -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?’</p> - -<p>“She interrupted herself with a fresh burst -of laughter that made me shudder.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“She retorted:</p> - -<p>“‘You are a blockhead, a fool, a genuine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">payllo</i>! You are like the dwarf who thinks -he’s tall when he can spit a long way. You -don’t love me—be off!’</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">jaque</i> in Malaga—will you try it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span></p> - -<p>“‘What have you done?’ Dancaïre asked -me.</p> - -<p>“‘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?’</p> - -<p>“Dancaïre gave me his hand. He was a -man of fifty.</p> - -<p>“‘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?’</p> - -<p>“‘Let me do it all alone,’ I replied. ‘I -snap my fingers at the whole world now.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“I said to Dancaïre:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span></p> - -<p>“‘I will take care of the Englishman. -Frighten the others—they are not armed.’</p> - -<p>“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:</p> - -<p>“‘You will always be a <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">lillipendi</i>!’ 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.’</p> - -<p>“‘And yours,’ I retorted, ‘unless you’re a -true <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i> to me.’</p> - -<p>“‘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!’</p> - -<p>“And she rattled her castanets, as she -always did when she wished to banish some -unpleasant thought.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span></p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘Do you know,’ she said, ‘that since -you have been my <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i> for good and all I love -you less than when you were my <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">minchorrò</i>? -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.’</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> -to Carmen of leaving Spain and of seeking an -honest livelihood in the New World. She -laughed at me.</p> - -<p>“‘We were not made to plant cabbages,’ -said she; ‘our destiny is to live at the expense -of the <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">payllos</i>. 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?’</p> - -<p>“I allowed her to persuade me and I resumed -my wretched trade.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘I don’t want either his money or his -person,’ I said, ‘and I forbid you to speak to -him.’</p> - -<p>“‘Beware!’ said she, ‘when any one defies -me to do a thing it’s soon done!’</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“‘There’s to be a fête at Cordova; I am -going to it, and I shall find out what people<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> -are going away with money and let you -know.’</p> - -<p>“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<a id="FNanchor_38" href="#Footnote_38" class="fnanchor">[38]</a> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“‘Come with me,’ I said to her.</p> - -<p>“‘All right!’ said she; ‘let us go.’</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">venta</i>, near a little hermitage. -There I said to Carmen:</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ she said, sullenly, ‘I don’t want to -go to America. I am very well off here.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“She looked earnestly at me with that savage -look of hers, and said:</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘Carmen, don’t you love me any more?’ -I asked her.</p> - -<p>“She made no reply. She was seated -with her legs crossed, on a mat, and making -figures on the ground with her finger.</p> - -<p>“‘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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> -from here. Then, too, we have funds in the -Jew Ben-Joseph’s hands.’</p> - -<p>“She smiled and said:</p> - -<p>“‘Me first, then you. I know that it is -bound to happen so.’</p> - -<p>“‘Reflect,’ I continued; ‘I am at the end -of my patience and my courage; make up -your mind, or I shall make up mine.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘Father,’ I said, ‘will you say a prayer for -some one who is in great danger?’</p> - -<p>“‘I pray for all who are afflicted,’ he said.</p> - -<p>“‘Can you say a mass for a soul which -perhaps is soon to appear before its Creator?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes,’ he replied, gazing fixedly at me.</p> - -<p>“And, as there was something strange in -my manner, he tried to make me talk.</p> - -<p>“‘It seems to me that I have seen you before,’ -he said.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span></p> - -<p>“I placed a piastre on his bench.</p> - -<p>“‘When will you say the mass?’ I -asked.</p> - -<p>“‘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?’</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">venta</i>. 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> -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 -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Bari Crallisa</i>, or the great queen of the -gypsies.<a id="FNanchor_39" href="#Footnote_39" class="fnanchor">[39]</a></p> - -<p>“‘Carmen,’ I said, ‘will you come with -me?’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘So, my Carmen,’ I said, after we had -ridden a little way, ‘you will go with me, -won’t you?’</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> -<p>“‘I will go with you to death, yes, but I -won’t live with you any more.’</p> - -<p>“We were in a deserted ravine; I stopped -my horse.</p> - -<p>“‘Is this the place?’ she said.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“‘You mean to kill me, I can see that,’ she -said; ‘it is written, but you will not make me -yield.’</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“‘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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -trouble. All is over between us. As my <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rom</i>, -you have a right to kill your <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i>; but Carmen -will always be free. <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Calli</i> she was born, -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">calli</i> she will die.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then you love Lucas?’ I demanded.</p> - -<p>“‘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.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“She said to me:</p> - -<p>“‘To love you again is impossible. I will -not live with you.’</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span></p> - -<p>“‘For the last time,’ I cried, ‘will you stay -with me?’</p> - -<p>“‘No! no! no!’ she replied, stamping the -ground with her foot.</p> - -<p>“And she took from her finger a ring I -had given her and threw it into the underbrush.</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Cales</i> are guilty, for bringing her up so.”</p> - - -<h3>IV</h3> - -<p>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 -<em>Bohemians</em>, <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Gitanos</i>, <em>Gypsies</em>, <em>Zigeuner</em>, 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> -fortunes, beg, and sell all sorts of drugs, -innocent or not.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Cale</i>—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 <em>naturally afraid -of blows</em>, like Panurge. As a general rule, -the men are well-knit, slender, and active;<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitanas</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> -known instance of a <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitana</i> 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: <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Casta -quam nemo rogavit</i>. 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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitana</i>, -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> -that the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitanas</i> 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—<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i> -or <em>spouses</em>—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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> -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: “<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Singo, singo, homte hi -mulo.”</i> “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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> -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 -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitana</i>. “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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">piecette</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i>. ‘You -are a fool,’ I said, ‘you were born a fool, a -fool you will die.’—When I was at the door,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Most Orientalists who have studied the -gypsy language believe that they came originally -from India. In fact, it seems that a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -number of the roots of the <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> 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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i>, -we find many Greek words. For example: -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">cocal</i>, bone, from κόκκαλον; <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">petalli</i>, horseshoe, -from πέταλον; <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">cafi</i>, 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> -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 <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> 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, <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">pani</i> means water, -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">manro</i>, bread, <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">mas</i>, meat, and <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">lon</i>, salt.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">gitanos</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> -formed by adding <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">ium</i> to the imperative, -which is always the root of the verb. The -verbs in the Spanish <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> are all conjugated -like Castilian verbs of the first conjugation. -From the infinitive <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">jamar</i>, to eat, they -regularly make <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">jamé</i>, I have eaten; from <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">lillar</i>, -to take, <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">lillé</i>, I have taken. But some -old gypsies say, on the other hand, <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">jayon</i>, -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">lillon</i>. I know no other verbs which have -retained this ancient form.</p> - -<p>While I am thus parading my slight acquaintance -with the <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> tongue, I must -note a few words of French argot, which -our thieves have borrowed from the gypsies. -The <cite>Mystères de Paris</cite> has taught good society -that <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chourin</i> means knife. The word is -pure <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i>; <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">tchouri</i> is one of the words -common to all the dialects. M. Vidocq calls -a horse <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">grès</i>—that is another <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> word—<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">gras</i>, -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gre</i>, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">graste</i>, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">gris</i>. Add the word <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">romanichel</i>, -which in Parisian slang means gypsies. -It is a corruption of <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommane tchave</i>, -gypsy youths. But an etymology of which I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -am proud is that of <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">frimousse</i>, 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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">firlimouse</i>. -Now, <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">firla</i>, <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">fila</i>, in <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i> means -face; <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">mui</i> has the same meaning, it exactly -corresponds to the Latin <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">os</i>. The combination -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">firlamui</i> was instantly understood -by a gypsy purist, and I believe it to be in -conformity with the genius of his language.</p> - -<p>This is quite enough to give the readers of -<cite>Carmen</cite> a favourable idea of my studies in -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">rommani</i>. I will close with this proverb, -which is quite apropos: <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">En retudi panda -nasti abela macha</i>—“a fly cannot enter a -closed mouth.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1845.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> The Andalusians aspirate the <em>s</em>, and in pronunciation -confound it with <em>c</em> soft and <em>z</em>, which the Spaniards pronounce -like the English <em>th</em>. It is possible to recognise an -Andalusian by the one word <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">señor</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> That is, the <em>privileged provinces</em>, which enjoy special -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">fueros</i>, namely, Alava, Biscay, Guipuzcoa, and a part of -Navarre. Basque is the language spoken in those provinces.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_3" href="#FNanchor_3" class="label">[3]</a> 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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">neveria</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_4" href="#FNanchor_4" class="label">[4]</a> In Spain every traveller who does not carry about with -him specimens of calico or silk is taken for an Englishman, -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Inglesito</i>. It is the same in the East; at Chalcis I had the -honour of being announced as a Μιλὸρδος Φραντσέοος</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_5" href="#FNanchor_5" class="label">[5]</a> Fortune.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_6" href="#FNanchor_6" class="label">[6]</a> In 1830 the nobility alone enjoyed that privilege. To-day -(1847) under the constitutional <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">régime</i>, the plebeians -have obtained the privilege of the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">garrote</i>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_7" href="#FNanchor_7" class="label">[7]</a> Ironshod staves carried by the Basques.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_8" href="#FNanchor_8" class="label">[8]</a> The magistrate at the head of the police and municipal -administration.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_9" href="#FNanchor_9" class="label">[9]</a> The ordinary costume of the peasant women of Navarre -and the Basque provinces.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_10" href="#FNanchor_10" class="label">[10]</a> Yes, sir.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_11" href="#FNanchor_11" class="label">[11]</a> Enclosure, garden.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_12" href="#FNanchor_12" class="label">[12]</a> Bravoes, bullies.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_13" href="#FNanchor_13" class="label">[13]</a> All the Spanish cavalry are armed with lances.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_14" href="#FNanchor_14" class="label">[14]</a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_15" href="#FNanchor_15" class="label">[15]</a> Good-day, comrade.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_16" href="#FNanchor_16" class="label">[16]</a> 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_17" href="#FNanchor_17" class="label">[17]</a> <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Mañana sera otro dia.</i>—A Spanish proverb.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_18" href="#FNanchor_18" class="label">[18]</a> A gypsy proverb.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_19" href="#FNanchor_19" class="label">[19]</a> Sugared yolks of eggs.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_20" href="#FNanchor_20" class="label">[20]</a> A kind of nougat.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_21" href="#FNanchor_21" class="label">[21]</a> King Don Pedro, whom we call the <em>Cruel</em>, but whom -Isabella the Catholic always called the <em>Justiciary</em>, 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 (<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">candilejo</i>) 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 <cite>Anales de Sevilla</cite>, 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_22" href="#FNanchor_22" class="label">[22]</a> <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Rom</i>, husband; <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">romi</i>, wife.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_23" href="#FNanchor_23" class="label">[23]</a> <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Calo</i>; feminine <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">calli</i>; plural <i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">cales</i>. Literally <em>black</em>—the -name by which the gypsies call themselves in their own -tongue.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_24" href="#FNanchor_24" class="label">[24]</a> The Spanish dragoons wear a yellow uniform.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_25" href="#FNanchor_25" class="label">[25]</a> A gypsy proverb.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_26" href="#FNanchor_26" class="label">[26]</a> Saint—the Blessed Virgin.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_27" href="#FNanchor_27" class="label">[27]</a> The gallows, supposed to be the widow of the last man -hanged.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_28" href="#FNanchor_28" class="label">[28]</a> The red (land).</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_29" href="#FNanchor_29" class="label">[29]</a> <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Flamenço de Roma</i>—a slang term to designate a gypsy. -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Roma</i> does not mean here the Eternal City, but the race of -<i lang="rom" xml:lang="rom">Romi</i>, 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 <em>Flemings</em>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_30" href="#FNanchor_30" class="label">[30]</a> A bulbous root of which a very pleasant drink is made.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_31" href="#FNanchor_31" class="label">[31]</a> The ordinary rations of the Spanish soldier.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_32" href="#FNanchor_32" class="label">[32]</a> That is, with address, and without violence.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_33" href="#FNanchor_33" class="label">[33]</a> A sort of unattached body of troops.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_34" href="#FNanchor_34" class="label">[34]</a> The idiots, to take me for a swell!</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_35" href="#FNanchor_35" class="label">[35]</a> A name which the common people in Spain give to the -English, on account of the colour of their uniform.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_36" href="#FNanchor_36" class="label">[36]</a> That is to say, to the galleys, or to all the devils.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_37" href="#FNanchor_37" class="label">[37]</a> My lover, or rather, my fancy.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_38" href="#FNanchor_38" class="label">[38]</a> <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">La divisa</i>, 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.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_39" href="#FNanchor_39" class="label">[39]</a> 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.</p> - -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Taking_of_the_Redoubt">The Taking of the Redoubt</h2> -</div> - - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>When he learned that I was fresh from the -school at Fontainebleau, he made a wry face -and said:</p> - -<p>“My lieutenant died yesterday.”</p> - -<p>I understood that he meant to imply: “You -ought to take his place, and you are not -capable of it.”</p> - -<p>A sharp retort came to my lips, but I restrained -myself.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span></p> - -<p>An old soldier beside whom I happened to -be, remarked upon the colour of the moon.</p> - -<p>“It is very red,” said he; “that’s a sign -that it will cost us dear to take that famous -redoubt!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>A battery of artillery came into position -at our right, another at our left, but both well<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -take in telling of the capture of the redoubt -of Cheverino in Madame de B——’s salon on -Rue de Provence.</p> - -<p>The colonel passed our company; he spoke -to me:</p> - -<p>“Well, you are going to see some sharp -work for your début.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I congratulate you,” said my captain, as I -picked up my shako; “you’re safe now for -to-day.”</p> - -<p>I was acquainted with the military superstition -which believes that the axiom, <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Non bis in -idem</i>, has the same application on a field of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> -battle as in a court of justice. I proudly replaced -my shako on my head.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<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.</p> - -<p>After about half an hour the Russian fire<span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span> -sensibly diminished; thereupon we left our -sheltered position to march upon the redoubt.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Take it all in all,” I said to myself, “a -battle isn’t such a terrible thing.”</p> - -<p>We advanced at the double-quick, preceded -by skirmishers; suddenly the Russians -gave three hurrahs, three distinct hurrahs, -then remained silent and ceased firing.</p> - -<p>“I don’t like this silence,” said my captain; -“it bodes us no good.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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 “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive l’Empereur!</i>” louder than one -would have expected to hear from men who -had already shouted so much.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> - -<p>I shuddered, and I thought that my last -hour had come.</p> - -<p>“The dance is going to begin,” cried my -captain. “Bonsoir!”</p> - -<p>Those were the last words I heard him utter.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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: “<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Vive l’Empereur!</i>” -He was followed instantly by all -the survivors. I have a very dim remembrance<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>The colonel, covered with blood, was lying -on a shattered caisson near the ravine. A -number of soldiers were bustling about him. -I approached.</p> - -<p>“Where is the senior captain?” he asked a -sergeant.</p> - -<p>The sergeant shrugged his shoulders most -expressively.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> - -<p>“And the senior lieutenant?”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur here, who arrived last night,” -said the sergeant, in a perfectly matter-of-fact -tone.</p> - -<p>The colonel smiled bitterly.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Colonel,” I said, “are you severely -wounded?”</p> - -<p>“Finished, my boy, but the redoubt is -taken!”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1829.</p> -</div> - - - - - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="Mateo_Falcone">Mateo Falcone</h2> -</div> - - -<p>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 -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>. The <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i> 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span> -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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>. 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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i> so dense and thick that -even the wild sheep cannot break through.</p> - -<p>If you have killed a man, betake yourself to -the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i> 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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span></p> - -<p>Mateo Falcone, when I was in Corsica, in -18—, had his home about half a league from -this <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>. 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">caporal</i>,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span><a id="FNanchor_40" href="#Footnote_40" class="fnanchor">[40]</a> -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.</p> - -<p>That man was a bandit,<a id="FNanchor_41" href="#Footnote_41" class="fnanchor">[41]</a> who, having -started under cover of the darkness to go to -the town for powder, had fallen into an ambush<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> -of Corsican voltigeurs.<a id="FNanchor_42" href="#Footnote_42" class="fnanchor">[42]</a> 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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i> before he was -overtaken.</p> - -<p>He went up to Fortunato and said:</p> - -<p>“You are Mateo Falcone’s son?”</p> - -<p>“Yes.”</p> - -<p>“I am Gianetto Sanpiero. I am pursued -by the yellow collars.<a id="FNanchor_43" href="#Footnote_43" class="fnanchor">[43]</a> Hide me, for I can’t go -any farther.”</p> - -<p>“What will my father say if I hide you -without his leave?”</p> - -<p>“He will say that you did well.”</p> - -<p>“Who knows?”</p> - -<p>“Hide me quick; they’re coming.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span></p> - -<p>“Wait till my father comes home.”</p> - -<p>“Wait? damnation! They will be here in -five minutes. Come, hide me, or I’ll kill -you.”</p> - -<p>Fortunato replied with the utmost coolness:</p> - -<p>“Your gun’s empty, and there ain’t any -cartridges left in your <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">carchera</i>.”<a id="FNanchor_44" href="#Footnote_44" class="fnanchor">[44]</a></p> - -<p>“I have my stiletto.”</p> - -<p>“But can you run as fast I can?”</p> - -<p>He gave a leap and placed himself out of -danger.</p> - -<p>“You are not Mateo Falcone’s son! Will -you let me be arrested in front of your -house?”</p> - -<p>The child seemed to be moved.</p> - -<p>“What will you give me if I hide you?” he -said, drawing nearer.</p> - -<p>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:</p> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> -<p>“Don’t be afraid.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -feared by the bandits, several of whom he had -already run to earth.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I ain’t as tall as you yet, cousin,” -replied the child, with a stupid expression.</p> - -<p>“That will come. But tell me, didn’t you -see a man pass?”</p> - -<p>“Didn’t I see a man pass?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, a man with a black velvet pointed -cap and a red and yellow embroidered -jacket?”</p> - -<p>“A man in a pointed cap and a red and yellow -embroidered jacket?”</p> - -<p>“Yes; answer at once, and don’t repeat -my questions.”</p> - -<p>“Monsieur le curé passed our door this -morning, on his horse Piero. He asked me -how papa was and I told him——”</p> - -<p>“Ah! you little scamp, you are playing -sly! Tell me quick which way Gianetto<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -went; for he’s the man we’re looking for, -and I am certain he took this path.”</p> - -<p>“Who knows?”</p> - -<p>“Who knows? I know that you saw him.”</p> - -<p>“Does a fellow see people pass when he’s -asleep?”</p> - -<p>“You weren’t asleep, good-for-nothing; -the shots woke you.”</p> - -<p>“Do you think, cousin, that your guns -make such a great noise? My father’s carbine -makes a lot more.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i> at that gait. Besides, the -marks of blood stopped here.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>But Fortunato continued to laugh sneeringly.</p> - -<p>“My father is Mateo Falcone!” he said -with emphasis.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The child laughed heartily at this absurd -threat.</p> - -<p>“My father’s Mateo Falcone,” he repeated.</p> - -<p>“Adjutant,” said one of the voltigeurs in an -undertone, “let us not get into a row with -Mateo.”</p> - -<p>Gamba was evidently perplexed. He talked -in a low tone with his soldiers, who had already<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Bah!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“And then?”</p> - -<p>“You will see. But, I say, be a good boy, -and I’ll give you something.”</p> - -<p>“And I’ll give you a piece of advice, -cousin: if you stay here any longer, Gianetto -will be in the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>, and then it will take -more than one fox like you to catch him.”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Rascal! you’d like to have a watch like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -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!’”</p> - -<p>“When I’m big, my uncle the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">caporal</i> -will give me a watch.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The child sighed.</p> - -<p>“Well! would you like this watch, my -little cousin?”</p> - -<p>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!”</p> - -<p>But Adjutant Gamba seemed to be in earnest<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> -in his offer of the watch. Fortunato did not put -out his hand; but he said with a bitter smile:</p> - -<p>“Why do you make sport of me?”</p> - -<p>“By God! I am not joking. Just tell me -where Gianetto is, and this watch is yours.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> -hand. In a trice he was securely bound, despite -his resistance.</p> - -<p>Gianetto, lying on the ground and corded -like a bundle of sticks, turned his head -toward Fortunato, who had drawn near.</p> - -<p>“Son of——!” he said, with more scorn -than anger.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“I can’t walk, my dear Gamba; you will -have to carry me to the town.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Good,” said the prisoner; “just put a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -little straw on your litter, too, so that I can be -more comfortable.”</p> - -<p>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 -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>. 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Wife,” he said to Giuseppa, “put down -your bag and be ready.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The adjutant, on the other hand, was -greatly disturbed to see Mateo advance thus<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> -with measured steps, with rifle raised and -finger on trigger.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Hallo! my old comrade,” he cried; “how -goes it, old fellow? It’s me, Gamba, your -cousin.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span></p> - -<p>“Good-day, brother,” said the adjutant, -“it’s a long while since I saw you.”</p> - -<p>“Good-day, brother.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“God be praised!” cried Giuseppa. “He -stole a milch goat from us last week.”</p> - -<p>Those words made Gamba’s heart glad.</p> - -<p>“Poor devil!” said Mateo, “he was hungry.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> - -<p>“Fortunato!” cried Mateo.</p> - -<p>“Fortunato!” echoed Giuseppa.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Gianetto was hidden under the haystack -yonder; but my little cousin showed -me the trick. And I’ll tell his uncle the -<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">caporal</i>, 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.”</p> - -<p>“Malediction!” muttered Mateo.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“House of a traitor!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> -other movement than to put his hand to his -forehead, like a man utterly crushed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I like to lie comfortably,” he said.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Nearly ten minutes passed before Mateo -opened his mouth. The child glanced uneasily,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> -now at his mother and now at his -father, who, leaning upon his gun, gazed at -him with an expression of intense wrath.</p> - -<p>“You begin well!” said Mateo at last, in a -voice which, although calm, was terrifying to -one who knew the man.</p> - -<p>“Father!” cried the child stepping forward, -with tears in his eyes, as if to throw himself -at his feet.</p> - -<p>But Mateo cried:</p> - -<p>“Away from me!”</p> - -<p>And the child stopped and stood still, sobbing, -a few steps from his father.</p> - -<p>Giuseppa approached. She had spied the -watch chain, one end of which protruded -from Fortunato’s shirt.</p> - -<p>“Who gave you that watch?” she asked -in a harsh tone.</p> - -<p>“My cousin the adjutant.”</p> - -<p>Falcone seized the watch, and hurled it -against a stone, breaking it into a thousand -pieces.</p> - -<p>“Woman,” he said, “is this child mine?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> - -<p>Giuseppa’s brown cheeks turned a brick -red.</p> - -<p>“What do you say, Mateo? Do you know -who you’re talking to?”</p> - -<p>“Well, this child is the first of his race that -ever did an act of treachery.”</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">maquis</i>, calling to Fortunato to follow him. -The child obeyed.</p> - -<p>Giuseppa ran after Mateo and grasped his -arm.</p> - -<p>“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.</p> - -<p>“Let me alone,” replied Mateo, “I am his -father.”</p> - -<p>Giuseppa embraced her son and entered her -cabin, weeping. She fell on her knees before<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Fortunato, go and stand by that big -stone.”</p> - -<p>The child did what he ordered, then knelt.</p> - -<p>“Say your prayers.”</p> - -<p>“Father, father, don’t kill me!”</p> - -<p>“Say your prayers!” Mateo repeated, in a -terrible voice.</p> - -<p>The child, stammering and sobbing, repeated -the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Pater</i> and the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Credo</i>. The father, in a loud -voice, said <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Amen!</i> at the end of each prayer.</p> - -<p>“Are those all the prayers you know?”</p> - -<p>“I know the <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ave Maria</i>, too, father, and -the litany my aunt taught me.”</p> - -<p>“That’s very long, but no matter.”</p> - -<p>The child finished the litany in a feeble voice.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> - -<p>“Have you finished?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, father! mercy! forgive me! I won’t -do it again! I will pray so hard to my uncle -the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">caporal</i> that he’ll forgive Gianetto!”</p> - -<p>He continued to speak; Mateo had cocked -his gun, and he took aim at him, saying:</p> - -<p>“May God forgive you!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“What have you done?” she cried.</p> - -<p>“Justice.”</p> - -<p>“Where is he?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1829.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_40" href="#FNanchor_40" class="label">[40]</a> In olden times the <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">caporals</i> 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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">pieve</i> or a canton. The Corsicans, by an ancient custom, -divide themselves into <em>gentlemen</em> (some of whom are <i lang="co" xml:lang="co">magnificoes</i>, -others <i lang="co" xml:lang="co">signori</i>), <i lang="co" xml:lang="co">caporali</i>, <em>citizens</em>, <em>plebeians</em>, and -<em>foreigners</em>.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_41" href="#FNanchor_41" class="label">[41]</a> The word is in this instance synonymous with outlaw.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_42" href="#FNanchor_42" class="label">[42]</a> A corps levied within a few years by the government -and employed on police duty, concurrently with the gendarmerie.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_43" href="#FNanchor_43" class="label">[43]</a> The uniform of the voltigeurs consisted of a brown coat -with a yellow collar.</p> - -</div> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_44" href="#FNanchor_44" class="label">[44]</a> A leather girdle used as cartridge-box and as wallet.</p> - -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop" /> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span></p> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="The_Venus_of_Ille">The Venus of Ille</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="blocktext" style="width:14em">Ἰλεὼς ἣν δ' ἐγὼ, ἔστω ὁ ἀνδρίας<br/> -Καὶ ἤπιος, οὔτως ἀνδρεῖος ὢν.</p> - - -<p class="right mr20"> -ΛΟΥΚΙΑΝΟΥ ΦΙΛΟΨΕΥΔΗΣ.<br /> -</p> - - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span></p> - -<p>“Is the marriage to take place soon?” I -asked.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“I shall be an interloper,” I said to -myself.</p> - -<p>But I was expected; as my arrival had been<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -announced by M. de P., I must needs present -myself.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“The idol! what idol?” The word had -aroused my curiosity.</p> - -<p>“What! didn’t any one at Perpignan tell -you how Monsieur de Peyrehorade had found -an idol in the ground?”</p> - -<p>“You mean a terra-cotta, or clay statue, -don’t you?”</p> - -<p>“No, indeed! I mean a copper one, and -it’s big enough to make a lot of big sous. It<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“So you were present at the discovery, -were you?”</p> - -<p>“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 <em>bimm</em>—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.’</p> - -<p>“‘What dead men?’ he says.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“Well, what did you find?”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“I see what it is: a bronze Blessed Virgin -from some dismantled convent.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“White eyes? They are incrusted on the -bronze, no doubt. It may be some Roman -statue.”</p> - -<p>“Roman! that’s it. Monsieur de Peyrehorade<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> -says she’s a Roman.—Ah! I see that -you’re a scholar like him.”</p> - -<p>“Is it whole, well preserved?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Wicked! what harm has she done you?”</p> - -<p>“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, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">patatras!</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>“And he was hurt?”</p> - -<p>“His poor leg broken off short like a stick!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span> -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Pécaïre!</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> -from the oblivion in which the indifference -of scholars had thus far left it.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> -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!</p> - -<p>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 <cite>Journal des Modes</cite>. -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.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> -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——</p> - -<p>“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, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">en famille</i>, 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef-d’œuvre</i>. 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> -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: <span class="allsmcap">CAVE</span>—but I won’t ask you -anything yet. Until to-morrow! until to-morrow! -Not a word about the Venus to-day!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0 outdent">“‘With what irreverence</div> - <div class="verse indent0">Doth my good wife speak of the gods!’</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef-d’œuvre</i> of Myron, -monsieur!”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Chef-d’œuvre! chef-d’œuvre!</i> a pretty -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef-d’œuvre</i> she made! to break a man’s -leg!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“Wounded by Venus, monsieur,” said M. -de Peyrehorade, with a chuckle, “wounded -by Venus, the clown complains:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> - <div class="stanza"> - <div class="verse indent0">“‘Veneris nec præmia noris.’</div> - </div> -</div> -</div> - -<p>“Who has not been wounded by Venus?”</p> - -<p>M. Alphonse, who understood French better -than Latin, winked with a knowing look, -and glanced at me as if to ask:</p> - -<p>“And you, Monsieur le Parisien, do you -understand?”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> -if I had everything that I wanted, wished me -a good-night and left me alone.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I was so far from the statue that I could not -distinguish its attitude and could only guess<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -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, <cite>Montagnes Régalades</cite>. 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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -out of its shell. They’d make more -than a hundred sous in silver.”</p> - -<p>They walked away a few steps.</p> - -<p>“I must bid the idol good-night,” said the -taller of the two, suddenly stopping again.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“She threw it back at me!” he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I closed my window, laughing heartily.</p> - -<p>“Still another vandal chastised by Venus!” -I thought. “May all the destroyers of our -ancient monuments have their heads broken -thus!”</p> - -<p>And with that charitable prayer, I fell -asleep.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span></p> - -<p>It was broad daylight when I woke. Beside -my bed were, on one side, M. de Peyrehorade -in his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">robe-de-chambre</i>; on the other a -servant, sent by his wife, with a cup of chocolate -in his hand.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -swallowed boiling hot. I went down into the -garden and found myself before a really beautiful -statue.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> -later Empire; I saw a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">chef-d’œuvre</i> 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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>“’T is Venus all intent upon her prey!” -quoted M. de Peyrehorade, delighted with my -enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>He pointed to the base of the statue, and I -read there these words:</p> - -<p class="p1_5 center"> -CAVE AMANTEM. -</p> - -<p class="p1_5">“<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Quid dicis, doctissime?</i>” (“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">cave amantem</i>.”</p> - -<p>“Why, there are two possible meanings,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> -I said. “It may be translated: ‘Beware of -him who loves you—distrust lovers.’ But I -am not sure that <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">cave amantem</i> 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 <em>she</em> loves you.’”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“She had several.”</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>I could not help smiling, the interpretation -seemed to me so exceedingly far-fetched.</p> - -<p>“The Latin is a terrible language, with<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>As he spoke, he helped me to climb -up.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p> - -<p class="blocktext p1_5" style="width:9em"> -VENERI TVRBVL—<br /> -<br /> -EVTYCHES MYRO<br /> -<br /> -IMPERIO FECIT<br /> -</p> - -<p class="p1_5">After the word <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvl</i> in the first line several -letters seemed to have become effaced, -but <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvl</i> was perfectly legible.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvl</i>.</p> - -<p>“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.’”</p> - -<p>“Excellent. But what do you make of -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvl</i>? What is <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvl</i>?”</p> - -<p>“<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tvrbvl</i> 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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Turbulenta</i>? Venus, who disturbs, who -excites—as you see, I am still engrossed by -her evil expression. <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Turbulenta</i> is not a very<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -inapt epithet for Venus,” I added modestly, -for I was not very well satisfied myself with -my explanation.</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvl</i> 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!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tvrbvl</i>—monsieur,” he said, coming -nearer to me and lowering his voice, for fear -that some other than myself might hear—“read -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">tvrbvlneræ</i>.”</p> - -<p>“I don’t understand any better.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Turbulnera</i>. 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!”</p> - -<p>He paused a moment to take breath and to -enjoy my surprise. I succeeded in restraining -a very strong inclination to laugh.</p> - -<p>“It is a fact,” he continued, “<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Turbulnera</i> is -pure Phœnician; <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tur</i>, pronounced <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tour</i>—<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Tour</i> -and <i lang="phn" xml:lang="phn">Sour</i> are the same word, are they -not? <i lang="phn" xml:lang="phn">Sour</i> is the Phœnician name of Tyre; I -do not need to remind you of its meaning. -<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Bul</i> is Baal; Bal, Bel, Bul—slight differences in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> -pronunciation. As for <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">nera</i>—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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">nera</i> 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.”</p> - -<p>And he took a pinch of snuff with a self-satisfied -air.</p> - -<p>“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.’”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span></p> - -<p>“Stop there a moment, monsieur. Myron -dedicated something, but I see nothing to indicate -that it was this statue.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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 <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">fecit</i> is very often used in the -sense of <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">consecravit</i>; 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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -her; then the barbarians, or some sacrilegious -thief——”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>Having made it a rule never to contradict outright -an obstinate antiquarian, I hung my head -with the air of one fully persuaded, saying:</p> - -<p>“It’s an admirable thing.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! mon Dieu!” cried M. de Peyrehorade; -“still another piece of vandalism! Somebody -must have thrown a stone at my statue!”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -heartily, and, comparing the apprentice to -Diomedes, expressed a hope that, like the -Grecian hero, he might see all his companions -transformed into birds.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> -is that she’s very rich. Her aunt at Prades -left her all her property. Oh! I am going to -be very happy.”</p> - -<p>I was intensely disgusted to see a young -man more touched by the dowry than by the -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">beaux yeux</i> of his betrothed.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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: <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Sempr’ ab ti</i>; that is to say, -“Always with thee.”</p> - -<p>“It is a handsome ring,” I said, “but these -diamonds have taken away something of its -character.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> -years ago! That’s the place where one -enjoys one’s self!”</p> - -<p>And he heaved a sigh of regret.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“You are very strong-minded here in Roussillon! -To think of having a wedding on a -Friday, madame! We are more superstitious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span> -in Paris; no one would dare to take a wife on -that day.”</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“For shame, Peyrehorade!” his wife interposed, -scandalised to the last degree. “Burn -incense to an idol! That would be an abomination!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -What would people in the neighbourhood -say about you?”</p> - -<p>“At least,” said M. de Peyrehorade, “you -will allow me to place a wreath of roses and -lilies on her head:</p> - -<p class="center p90"> -“‘Manibus date lilia plenis.’<br /> -</p> - -<p>The charter, you see, monsieur, is an empty -word; we have no freedom of worship!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Will you paint my wife’s portrait?” he -asked, leaning over my drawing; “she is -pretty, too.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“I must uphold the honour of the province,” -he said to me.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>M. Alphonse dashed his racquet to the -ground in a passion.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span></p> - -<p>“It was this infernal ring,” he cried: “it -caught my finger and made me miss a sure -ball!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“We will play again, my good fellow,” -he said to the Aragonese in a lofty tone; “but -I will give you points.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“<i lang="es" xml:lang="es">Me lo pagarás!</i>”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span></p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“You might send some one to get it,” I said.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>The two ceremonies, civil and religious, were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“Take care! they say that this wine——”</p> - -<p>I have no idea what foolish remark I made, -to put myself in unison with the other guests.</p> - -<p>He pressed my knee with his and said in a -very low tone:</p> - -<p>“When we leave the table, let me have a -word with you.”</p> - -<p>His solemn tone surprised me. I looked at -him more closely and noticed the extraordinary -change in his expression.</p> - -<p>“Are you feeling ill?” I asked him.</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> - -<p>And he returned to his drinking.</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“Pray, what is this, my friends? Does the -wine I have drunk make me see double? -There are two Venuses here——”</p> - -<p>The bridegroom abruptly turned his head -away with a terrified expression which made -everybody laugh.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span></p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>He meant to say her garter.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The last couplets having been sung by the -mayor’s deputy—and they were very free, I<span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>M. Alphonse led me into a window recess, -and said to me, averting his eyes:</p> - -<p>“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!”</p> - -<p>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:</p> - -<p>“The sway of love is always full of tragic -episodes,” etc.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that may be. But there is something -much more terrible than that.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span></p> - -<p>He spoke in a halting voice. I concluded -that he was downright tipsy.</p> - -<p>“You remember my ring?” he continued, -after a pause.</p> - -<p>“Well! has it been stolen?”</p> - -<p>“No.”</p> - -<p>“Then you have it?”</p> - -<p>“No—I—I can’t take it off that infernal -Venus’s finger!”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense! you didn’t pull hard -enough.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, I did. But the Venus—she has bent -her finger.”</p> - -<p>He looked me in the eye with a haggard -expression, leaning against the window-frame -to avoid falling.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>“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,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span> -as I have given her my ring. She refuses to -give it back.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“The wretch is completely drunk,” I -thought.</p> - -<p>“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?”</p> - -<p>“Willingly,” I said; “come with me.”</p> - -<p>“No, I prefer that you should go alone.”</p> - -<p>I left the salon.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mariage de convenance</i> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“How perturbed and ill at ease that poor -child must be,” I thought.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>Silence had reigned for some time, when -it was broken by heavy steps ascending<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> -the staircase. The wooden stairs creaked -loudly.</p> - -<p>“What a brute!” I cried. “I’ll wager -that he will fall on the stairs!”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> -which was soon added the jangling of bells -and the noise of doors violently thrown open; -then I distinguished confused outcries.</p> - -<p>“My drunkard must have set fire to something!” -I thought, as I leaped out of bed.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>On a couch, at the other end of the room, -was the bride, in frightful convulsions. She -was uttering incoherent cries, and two strong<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> -maidservants had all the difficulty in the -world in holding her.</p> - -<p>“Great God!” I cried, “what has happened?”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I dragged M. de Peyrehorade and his wife -to their room; then I caused the bride to be -taken thither.</p> - -<p>“You still have a daughter,” I said to them; -“you owe to her your devoted care.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> - -<p>Then I left them alone.</p> - -<p>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 <i lang="es" xml:lang="es">bravi</i> -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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>I returned to my room and remained there -till noon. Then I went out and inquired concerning -my hosts. They were a little calmer.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> -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.</p> - -<p>“Did you learn anything from Madame -Alphonse?” I asked the king’s attorney, -when my deposition was written out and -signed.</p> - -<p>“That unfortunate young woman has gone -mad,” he replied, with a sad smile. “Mad! -absolutely mad! This is what she told me:</p> - -<p>“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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> -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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> -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.”</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> -simply this: that, on the following day, having -rested meanwhile, he would beat his victorious -rival at tennis. I remember that he -added:</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>His shoes were compared with the footprints -in the garden, and were found to be -much larger.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>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<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> -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:</p> - -<p>“<em>Well! the devil must have taken him -away, too!</em>”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span></p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>I never learned, subsequent to my departure,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> -that any new light had been thrown -upon that mysterious catastrophe.</p> - -<p>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> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>“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.”</p> - -<div class="blockquot"> - -<p>1837.</p> -</div> - - -<div class="transnote chap"> - -<p class="center"><b>Transcriber’s Note</b></p> - -<p>Minor printer’s errors were corrected by the transcriber; otherwise, as -far as possible, original spelling and punctuation have been retained.</p> - -<p>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.</p> - -<p>The cover image was created by the transcriber and placed in the public -domain.</p> -</div> - - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PROSPER MÉRIMÉE'S SHORT STORIES ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -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. 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