“Madam, you speak very discreetly, and you honour me so greatly by the
trust which you say you have in me, that if I were not satisfied with
such good fortune I should be quite unworthy of it. But consider, madam,
that he who would build an edifice to last for ever must be careful
to have a sure and stable foundation. In the same way I, wishing to
continue for ever in your service, must not only take care to have the
means of remaining near to you, but also to prevent any one from knowing
of the great affection that I bear you. Although it is honourable enough
to be everywhere proclaimed, yet those who know nothing of lovers’
hearts often judge contrary to the truth, and thence come reports as
mischievous as though they were true. I have been prompted to say this,
and led to declare my love to you, because Paulina, feeling in her heart
that I cannot love her, holds me in suspicion and does nought but watch
my face wherever I may be. Hence, when you come and speak to me so
familiarly in her presence, I am in great fear lest I should make some
sign on which she may ground her judgment, and should so fall into that
which I am anxious to avoid. For this reason I am lead to entreat you
not to come and speak to me so suddenly before her or before others whom
you know to be equally malicious, for I would rather die than have any
living creature know the truth. Were I not so regardful of your honour,
I should not have sought this converse with you, for I hold myself
sufficiently happy in the love and trust you bear me, and I ask nothing
more save that they may continue.”
Florida, who could not have been better pleased, began to be sensible
of an unwonted feeling in her heart. She saw how honourable were the
reasons which he laid before her; and she told him that virtue and
honour replied for her, and that she granted him his request. Amadour’s
joy at this no true lover can doubt.
Florida, however, gave more heed to his counsel than he desired, for she
became timid not only in presence of Paulina but elsewhere, and ceased
to seek him out as she had been accustomed to do. While they were thus
separated she took Amadour’s constant converse with Paulina in bad part,
for, seeing that the latter was beautiful, she could not believe
that Amadour did not love her. To beguile her sorrow she conversed
continually with Avanturada, who was beginning to feel very jealous of
her husband and Paulina, and often complained of them to Florida, who
comforted her as well as she could, being herself smitten with the same
disease. Amadour soon perceived the change in Florida’s demeanour, and
forthwith thought that she was keeping aloof from him not merely by his
own advice, but also on account of some bitter fancies of her own.
One day, when they were coming from vespers at a monastery, he spoke to
her, and asked--
“What countenance is this you show me, madam?”
“That which I believe you desire,” replied Florida.
Thereupon, suspecting the truth, and desiring to know whether he was
right, he said to her--
“I have used my time so well, madam, that Paulina no longer has any
suspicion of you.”
“You could not do better,” she replied, “both for yourself and for me.
While giving pleasure to yourself you bring me honour.”
Amadour gathered from this speech that she believed he took pleasure in
conversing with Paulina, and so great was his despair that he could not
refrain from saying angrily to her--
“In truth, madam, you begin betimes to torment your lover and pelt him
with hard words. I do not think I ever had a more irksome task than to
be obliged to hold converse with a lady I do not love. But since you
take what I have done to serve you in bad part, I will never speak
to her again, happen what may. And that I may hide my wrath as I have
hidden my joy, I will betake me to some place in the neighbourhood, and
there wait till your caprice has passed away. I hope, however, I shall
there receive tidings from my captain and be called back to the war,
where I will remain long enough to show you that nothing but yourself
has kept me here.”
So saying, he forthwith departed without waiting for her reply.
Florida felt the greatest vexation and sorrow imaginable; and love,
meeting with opposition, began to put forth its mighty strength. She
perceived that she had been in the wrong, and wrote continually to
Amadour entreating him to return, which he did after a few days, when
his anger had abated.
I cannot undertake to tell you minutely all that they said to each other
in order to destroy this jealousy. But at all events he won the victory,
and she promised him that not only would she never believe he loved
Paulina, but that she would ever be convinced he found it an intolerable
martyrdom to speak either to Paulina or to any one else except to do
herself a service.
When love had conquered this first suspicion, and while the two lovers
were beginning to take fresh pleasure in conversing together, news came
that the King of Spain was sending all his army to Salces. (11)
11 Salces, a village about fifteen miles north of Perpignan,
noted for its formidable fortress, still existing and
commanding a pass through the Corbière Mountains, which in
the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries separated France from
Roussillon, then belonging to Spain. The French burnt the
village and demolished the fort of Salces in 1496, but the
latter was rebuilt by the Spaniards in the most massive
style. The walls of the fort are 66 feet thick at the base
and 54 feet thick at the summit. When Queen Margaret
returned from Spain in 152,5 she reached France by the pass
of Salces. (See vol. i. p. xlvi.).--Ed.
Amadour, accustomed ever to be the first in battle, failed not to seize
this opportunity of winning renown; but in truth he set forth with
unwonted regret, both on account of the pleasure he was losing and
because he feared that he might find a change on his return. He knew
that Florida, who was now fifteen or sixteen years old, was sought in
marriage by many great princes and lords, and he reflected that if she
were married during his absence he might have no further opportunity of
seeing her, unless, indeed, the Countess of Aranda gave her his wife,
Avanturada, as a companion. However, by skilful management with his
friends, he obtained a promise from both mother and daughter that
wherever Florida might go after her marriage thither should his wife,
Avanturada, accompany her. Although it was proposed to marry Florida
in Portugal, it was nevertheless resolved that Avanturada should never
leave her. With this assurance, yet not without unspeakable regret,
Amadour went away and left his wife with the Countess.
When Florida found herself alone after his departure, she set about
doing such good and virtuous works as she hoped might win her the
reputation that belongs to the most perfect women, and might prove her
to be worthy of such a lover as Amadour. He having arrived at Barcelona,
was there welcomed by the ladies as of old; but they found a greater
change in him than they believed it possible for marriage to effect in
any man. He seemed to be vexed by the sight of things he had
formerly desired; and even the Countess of Palamos, whom he had loved
exceedingly, could not persuade him to visit her.
Amadour remained at Barcelona as short a time as possible, for he was
impatient to reach Salces, where he alone was now awaited. When he
arrived, there began between the two kings that great and cruel war
which I do not purpose to describe. (12) Neither will I recount the
noble deeds that were done by Amadour, for then my story would take up
an entire day; but you must know that he won renown far above all his
comrades. The Duke of Najera (13) having arrived at Perpignan in command
of two thousand men, requested Amadour to be his lieutenant, and so well
did Amadour fulfil his duty with this band, that in every skirmish the
only cry was “Najera!” (14)
12 In 1503 the French, under Marshals de Rieux and de Gié,
again besieged Salces, which had a garrison of 1200 men. The
latter opposed a vigorous defence during two months, and
upon the arrival of the old Duke of Alba with an army of
succour the siege had to be raised.--B. J.
13 Pedro Manriquez de Lara, Count of Trevigno, created Duke
of Najera by Ferdinand and Isabella in 1501.--B. J.
14 The Duke’s war-cry, repeated by his followers as a
rallying signal in the _mêlée_. War-cries varied greatly.
“Montjoie St. Denis” was that of the kings of France, and
“Passavant le meilleur” (the best to the front) that of the
Counts of Champagne. In other instances the war-cry
consisted of a single word, “Bigorre” being that of the
kings of Navarre, and “Flanders” that of the Princess of
Beaujeu. When the war-cry was merely a name, as in the case
of the Duke of Najera, it belonged to the head of the
family.--D.
Now it came to pass that the King of Tunis, who for a long time had been
at war with the Spaniards, heard that the kings of France and Spain were
warring with each other on the frontiers of Perpignan and Narbonne, and
bethought himself that he could have no better opportunity of vexing the
King of Spain. Accordingly, he sent a great number of light galleys and
other vessels to plunder and destroy all such badly-guarded places as
they could find on the coasts of Spain. (15)The people of Barcelona
seeing a great fleet passing in front of their town, sent word of the
matter to the Viceroy, who was at Salces, and he forthwith despatched
the Duke of Najera to Palamos. (16) When the Moors saw that place
so well guarded, they made a feint of passing on; but returning at
midnight, they landed a large number of men, and the Duke of Najera,
being surprised by the enemy, was taken prisoner.
15 The above two sentences, deficient in the MS. followed by
M. Le Roux de Lincy, have been borrowed from MS. No. 1520
(Bib. Nat.). It was in 1503 that a Moorish flotilla ravaged
the coast of Catalonia.--Ed.
16 The village of Palamos, on the shores of the
Mediterranean, south of Cape Bagur, and within fifteen miles
from Gerona.--Ed.
Amadour, who was on the alert and heard the din, forthwith assembled as
many of his men as possible, and defended himself so stoutly that the
enemy, in spite of their numbers, were for a long time unable to prevail
against him. But at last, hearing that the Duke of Najera was taken, and
that the Turks had resolved to set fire to Palamos and burn him in the
house which he was holding against them, he thought it better to yield
than to cause the destruction of the brave men who were with him. He
also hoped that by paying a ransom he might yet see Florida again.
Accordingly, he gave himself up to a Turk named Dorlin, a governor of
the King of Tunis, who brought him to his master. By the latter he was
well received and still better guarded; for the King deemed that in him
he held the Achilles of all the Spains.
Thus Amadour continued for two years in the service of the King of
Tunis. The news of the captures having reached Spain, the kinsfolk
of the Duke of Najera were in great sorrow; but those who held the
country’s honour dear deemed Amadour the greater loss. The rumour came
to the house of the Countess of Aranda, where the hapless Avanturada at
that time lay grievously sick. The Countess, who had great misgivings as
to the affection which Amadour bore to her daughter, though she suffered
it and concealed it for the sake of the merits she perceived in him,
took Florida apart and told her the mournful tidings. Florida, who was
well able to dissemble, replied that it was a great loss to the entire
household, and that above all she pitied his poor wife, who was herself
so ill. Nevertheless, seeing that her mother wept exceedingly, she shed
a few tears to bear her company; for she feared that if she dissembled
too far the feint might be discovered. From that time the Countess often
spoke to her of Amadour, but never could she surprise a look to guide
her judgment.
I will pass over the pilgrimages, prayers, supplications, and fasts
which Florida regularly performed to ensure the safety of Amadour.
As soon as he had arrived at Tunis, he failed not to send tidings of
himself to his friends, and by a trusty messenger he apprised Florida
that he was in good health, and had hopes of seeing her again. This was
the only consolation the poor lady had in her grief, and you may be sure
that, since she was permitted to write, she did so with all diligence,
so that Amadour had no lack of her letters to comfort him.
The Countess of Aranda was about this time commanded to repair to
Saragossa, where the King had arrived; and here she found the young
Duke of Cardona, who so pressed the King and Queen that they begged
the Countess to give him their daughter in marriage. (17) The Countess
consented, for she was unwilling to disobey them in anything, and
moreover she considered that her daughter, being so young, could have no
will of her own.
17 The Spanish historians state that in 1513 the King, to
put an end to a quarrel between the Count of Aranda and the
Count of Ribagorce, charged Father John of Estuniga,
Provincial of the Order of St. Francis, to negotiate a
reconciliation between them, based on the marriage of the
eldest daughter of the Count of Aranda with the eldest son
of the Count of Ribagorce. The latter refusing his consent,
was banished from the kingdom.--D.
When all was settled, she told Florida that she had chosen for her the
match which seemed most suitable. Florida, knowing that when a thing is
once done there is small room for counsel, replied that God was to be
praised for all things; and, finding her mother look coldly upon her,
she sought rather to obey her than to take pity on herself. It scarcely
comforted her in her sorrows to learn that the son of the Infante of
Fortune was sick even to death; but never, either in presence of her
mother or of any one else, did she show any sign of grief. So strongly
did she constrain herself, that her tears, driven perforce back into her
heart, caused so great a loss of blood from the nose that her life was
endangered; and, that she might be restored to health, she was given in
marriage to one whom she would willingly have exchanged for death.
After the marriage Florida departed with her husband to the duchy of
Cardona, taking with her Avanturada, whom she privately acquainted with
her sorrow, both as regards her mother’s harshness and her own regret
at having lost the son of the Infante of Fortune; but she never spoke of
her regret for Amadour except to console his wife.
This young lady then resolved to keep God and honour before her eyes. So
well did she conceal her grief, that none of her friends perceived that
her husband was displeasing to her.
In this way she spent a long time, living a life that was worse than
death, as she failed not to inform her lover Amadour, who, knowing the
virtue and greatness of her heart, as well as the love that she had
borne to the son of the Infante of Fortune, thought it impossible that
she could live long, and mourned for her as for one that was more than
dead. This sorrow was an increase to his former grief, and forgetting
his own distress in that which he knew his sweetheart was enduring, he
would willingly have continued all his life the slave he was if Florida
could thereby have had a husband after her own heart. He learnt from a
friend whom he had gained at the Court of Tunis that the King, wishing
to keep him if only he could make a good Turk of him, intended to give
him his choice between impalement and the renunciation of his faith.
Thereupon he so addressed himself to his master, the governor who had
taken him prisoner, that he persuaded him to release him on parole. His
master named, however, a much higher ransom than he thought could be
raised by a man of such little wealth, and then, without speaking to the
King, he let him go.
When Amadour reached the Court of the King of Spain, he stayed there but
a short time, and then, in order to seek his ransom among his friends,
he repaired to Barcelona, whither the young Duke of Cardona, his mother,
and Florida had gone on business. As soon as Avanturada heard that her
husband was returned, she told the news to Florida, who rejoiced as
though for love of her friend. Fearing, however, that her joy at seeing
Amadour might make her change her countenance, and that those who did
not know her might think wrongly of her, she remained at a window in
order to see him coming from afar. As soon as she perceived him she went
down by a dark staircase, so that none could see whether she changed
colour, and embracing Amadour, led him to her room, and thence to her
mother-in-law, who had never seen him. He had not been there for two
days before he was loved as much as he had been in the household of the
Countess of Aranda.
I leave you to imagine the conversation that he and Florida had
together, and how she complained to him of the misfortunes that had come
to her in his absence. After shedding many tears of sorrow, both for
having been married against her will and also for having lost one she
loved so dearly without any hope of seeing him again, she resolved to
take consolation from the love and trust she had towards Amadour. Though
she durst not declare the truth, he suspected it, and lost neither time
nor opportunity to show her how much he loved her.
Just when Florida was all but persuaded to receive him, not as a lover,
but as a true and perfect friend, a misfortune came to pass, for the
King summoned Amadour to him concerning some important matter.
His wife was so grieved on hearing these tidings that she swooned, and
falling down a staircase on which she was standing, was so hurt that she
never rose again. Florida having by this death lost all her consolation,
mourned like one who felt herself bereft of friends and kin. But Amadour
grieved still more; for on the one part he lost one of the best wives
that ever lived, and on the other the means of ever seeing Florida
again. This caused him such sorrow that he was near coming by a sudden
death. The old Duchess of Cardona visited him incessantly, reciting the
arguments of philosophers why he should endure his loss with patience.
But all was of no avail; for if on the one hand his wife’s death
afflicted him, on the other his love increased his martyrdom. Having no
longer any excuse to stay when his wife was buried, and his master again
summoned him, his despair was such that he was like to lose his reason.
Florida, who thinking to comfort him, was herself the cause of his
greatest grief, spent a whole afternoon in the most gracious converse
with him in order to lessen his sorrow, and assured him that she would
find means to see him oftener than he thought. Then, as he was to depart
on the following morning, and was so weak that he could scarcely stir
from his bed, he prayed her to come and see him in the evening after
every one else had left him. This she promised to do, not knowing that
love in extremity is void of reason.
Amadour altogether despaired of ever again seeing her whom he had loved
so long, and from whom he had received no other treatment than I have
described. Racked by secret passion and by despair at losing all means
of consorting with her, he resolved to play at double or quits, and
either lose her altogether or else wholly win her, and so pay himself in
an hour the reward which he thought he had deserved. Accordingly he had
his bed curtained in such a manner that those who came into the room
could not see him; and he complained so much more than he had done
previously that all the people of the house thought he had not
twenty-four hours to live.
After every one else had visited him, Florida, at the request of her
husband himself, came in the evening, hoping to comfort him by declaring
her affection and by telling him that, so far as honour allowed, she was
willing to love him. She sat down on a chair beside the head of his
bed, and began her consolation by weeping with him. Amadour, seeing her
filled with such sorrow, thought that in her distress he might the more
readily achieve his purpose, and raised himself up in the bed. Florida,
thinking that he was too weak to do this, sought to prevent him, but he
threw himself on his knees before her saying, “Must I lose sight of you
for ever?” Then he fell into her arms like one exhausted. The hapless
Florida embraced him and supported him for a long time, doing all she
could to comfort him. But what she offered him to cure his pain only
increased it; and while feigning to be half dead, he, without saying a
word, strove to obtain that which the honour of ladies forbids.
When Florida perceived his evil purpose, in which she could hardly
believe after all his honourable conversation, she asked him what he
sought to do. Amadour, fearing her reply, which he knew could not
be otherwise than chaste and virtuous, said nothing, but pursued his
attempt with all the strength that he could muster. Florida, greatly
astonished, suspected rather that he had lost his senses than that he
was really bent upon her dishonour, and called out to a gentleman whom
she knew to be in the room; whereupon Amadour in extreme despair flung
himself back upon his bed so suddenly that the gentleman thought him
dead.