they had parted, she could not refrain from telling Daraxa that she had
never seen so accomplished a cavalier. Any other but the beautiful Moor
would have been alarmed by so frank a confession; but she relied so
firmly on her lover’s fidelity, that she only smiled at it; while her
friend thought her the most insensible of her sex, and made no mystery
of the passion she entertained for the unknown gentleman, of whom she
was constantly speaking in the most lively terms. “Yes,” she would say
to Daraxa, “I am touched by the merits of this cavalier; but I should be
glad to know who he is, and why such a man should never shew himself at
Court. I conjure you, my dear Daraxa, to ask him this when we next see
him.” Ozmin was soon informed of all this by his mistress, who warned
him of the delicate situation in which he stood; that he ought not to
abuse the credulous passion of Elvira, nor could he, she trusted, be
capable of betraying his faithful Daraxa; that in love the slightest
appearances cause anxiety; and that when one person is in possession of
the heart, she ought to be the sole object of all its desires.
Ozmin really thought that his mistress wrote thus to amuse herself, and
therefore answered her in a jesting manner. He even went further, for at
the next interview he paid particular court to Elvira, who received his
attentions in the most sensible manner, and returned them with usury.
Daraxa, agreeably to her friend’s request, then interrogated him about
his country and birth, and the present condition of his fortune. He
replied, without hesitation, that he was a gentleman of Arragon, and
that his name was Don Jaymé Vivez; that, having been taken by the Moors,
and set at liberty by the capitulation of Baza, he was waiting in
expectation of remittances from his family, to enable him to put himself
into a condition to appear at Court. The story was simple and plausible,
and sufficiently satisfactory to Donna Elvira, who, having inquired if
there was a family in Arragon of the name of Vivez, learned, with
extreme satisfaction, that it was one of the most illustrious in the
kingdom.
This intrigue became by degrees very distressing to our two lovers.
Elvira was really in love, and became more troublesome to them in
proportion as her love increased. Ozmin no sooner perceived that she
was in earnest, than he completely altered his behaviour towards her,
and only addressed her in a civil and polite manner; but Elvira’s
passion increased without his assistance. Daraxa, well satisfied with
Ozmin’s conduct, pitied her friend sincerely, and would gladly have
undeceived her; but she feared that such behaviour on her part would
have excited Elvira’s jealousy, the effects of which were too much to be
feared in the present condition of her fortune.
In the mean time Spring came on, and gave quite another face to the
affairs at Court. Ferdinand resolved to open the campaign by the siege
of Granada; and the Moors, who had foreseen that this would be the case,
were preparing to do their best in defence of so important a place. They
had in the city a garrison of fifteen thousand men, of the best troops
of King Mahomet. The Catholic King was well aware of this, and
therefore had taken the precaution to solicit, by his Ministers, as
well as through the interposition of the Pope, the assistance of the
other Christian Princes, to execute his design of chasing all the
Infidels out of Spain. Many of these Princes had promised succours; and
as soon as he was well assured that their troops were advancing to join
him, he set forward himself at the head of his army, with the intention
of surprising the Moors, and to give them no further time to fortify
themselves.
As the Queen foresaw that so precarious a siege would last for a
considerable time, she resolved to accompany the King, and pass the
campaign with him. This report being spread, our two lovers were much
rejoiced at it, hoping that, in the confusion of the army, they might
find an opportunity, with the assistance of Orviedo, to get into
Granada. But their ill luck ordained it otherwise; for the Queen, the
evening prior to her departure, told Daraxa that she was not to
accompany her in this journey. “To have less trouble,” added that
Princess, “I shall only take with me those women whose services I shall
absolutely require. It is my intention to leave my maids of honour at
Seville, with their relations, or under the care of persons of
distinction, to whom I shall recommend them. As for you, my dear Daraxa,
you will be entrusted to Don Lewis de Padilla. I have made choice of
this Nobleman because he is the father of your friend Elvira; besides
which, I think you will find yourself more agreeably situated in his
family than elsewhere.”
The despair of Ozmin knew no bounds when his mistress sent him word of
this order of the Queen. He saw that all his plans were frustrated, and
his mind, fluctuating amidst a variety of thoughts and undetermined
suggestions, inspired alternately by love and glory, was in an
inconceivable perplexity. But he received so many tender and moving
letters from Daraxa, that she at length succeeded in fixing his
irresolute thoughts upon herself alone. The following is one of these
letters, which I have selected from among them:
“Orviedo has informed me how excessively you lament your absence from
Granada. Depart, Ozmin, depart; your heart is more devoted to glory than
to love. Let me not detain you here any longer: I well know that your
departure will cost me my life; but the severest pangs that I shall
suffer will be in dying for an ungrateful man, who abandons me at the
very time that I stand most in need of his assistance. I thought myself
dearer to you than all the world. How greatly was I mistaken! Of whom am
I to complain? Of myself, for having believed you, or of you for having
thus beguiled me? If my love for you does not make me blind, your life
is mine. You have told me so a hundred times, nay, you have sworn it.
Why then, without my consent, do you dispose of what is mine? How can
you think of applying it to any other use than that of serving me? Ah!
Ozmin, you know but little how to love! How far are you behind me in
love’s race! Glory may be every where acquired; and many might be found,
if sought for, who would willingly resign all pretensions to glory, and
share the distresses of an unfortunate woman, in preference to serving
all the monarchs upon earth.”
Anxious as Ozmin was to render himself serviceable to his country, he
was unable to resist Daraxa’s persuasive remonstrances; and the lover,
on this occasion, gained the victory over the hero in him. The Court set
forward for the army; and the beautiful Moor was received by the Marquis
de Padilla with as much honour as if she had been the Queen herself.
Elvira, who loved her tenderly, and whom an interest still stronger
than friendship assisted to rejoice that they should henceforth be
inseparable companions, was delighted with this change. Daraxa would
also have been tolerably satisfied with her situation, if she had had a
little more liberty in the family; but, on the contrary, she was more
confined than she had been at Court. She was completely a prisoner. In
the first place, neither she nor Elvira dared venture to leave the
house, under any pretence whatever. The only indulgence that was
extended to them was to walk of an evening in the garden at a regulated
hour; and, as if this walk was not a recreation sufficiently restricted
for them, the old Marquis generally took the trouble of accompanying
them; or, if he sometimes had not sufficient time to allow of his
harassing them with his vexatious company, Don Rodrigo, his son, took
charge of them, and they gained nothing by the change. In addition to
all this, the ladies’ apartments had no look-out but towards the
garden, without any window towards the street. They saw nobody from
without doors, neither men nor women; and of the people in the house,
very few were permitted to speak to them.
All these unpleasantries united to embitter the extreme civilities paid
her by Don Lewis. This old courtier professed that he only treated her
in this manner from the very great consideration and respect he
entertained for her. Daraxa was not, however, the dupe of these fine
protestations; but losing all hope of receiving any communication from
her lover, she would have completely given herself up to chagrin, had
not Donna Elvira also been concerned in it, who, being scarcely able to
live any longer without her dear Don Jaymé, told Daraxa that she much
wished to write to that cavalier. “Ah!” answered Daraxa, “and how do you
think of conveying the letter to him?” “One of my women,” replied
Elvira, “has prevailed on a man, who does not belong to the family, and
who is well acquainted with Vivez, to undertake to deliver the letter
into his own hands.” Daraxa approved of her resolution, and they sat
down to compose a letter together. The daughter of Don Lewis wrote it,
and Daraxa added these words in her own language: “The chief happiness
of lovers consists in seeing each other; their chief misery in being
separated. I languish in expectation of hearing from you. I die if I do
not receive some news from you shortly.”
Elvira asked the meaning of these words, and Daraxa answered, “I have
sent word to Don Jaymé that his mistress can no longer endure his
absence, and must fall a prey to _ennui_, if she do not find relief
where she expects it.” The most attached friends generally behave in
this manner towards each other when they are rivals in love.
The letter was faithfully delivered to Ozmin, who was the more rejoiced
at its receipt as he had up to that moment employed in vain all
Orviedo’s ingenuity to discover what was going on at Don Lewis’s: and as
one happy event never occurs, according to the proverb, without another
treading on its heels, it happened, two days after this, that Orviedo
appeared before him dressed like a labourer. Ozmin did not recognize him
at first, but shortly afterwards asked him the reason for this disguise.
“I will tell you,” replied Orviedo. “I equipped myself in this manner
for the purpose of perambulating the Marquis de Padilla’s house, in the
hope of meeting one of Daraxa’s Moorish women, or of scraping
acquaintance with some one of Don Lewis’s servants. I chanced to stop
before a particular part of the garden, where several workmen were
engaged in repairing the wall. The master-mason seeing me very attentive
to their work, took me for one of his own trade: ‘My good friend,’ said
he to me, ‘I am in want of labourers to finish this job, are you
inclined to lend a hand?’ I replied, that I was employed elsewhere, but
that I had a comrade who was out of work, and would be glad to make
himself useful to him. ‘Send him to me,’ said the master-mason, ‘if he
only knows how to wheel a barrow, he will be of service, and I will pay
him well.’ Upon this I left him,” added Orviedo, smiling, “to propose
this fine job to you, which love presents to make you pass your time
more agreeably.”
Ridiculous as such an undertaking appeared to Ozmin, he was too much
enamoured of Daraxa to reject this opportunity of seeing her. He
accepted the employment, dressed himself like a workman, and followed
Orviedo, who said to the master-mason, “_Senor Maestro de obra_, this is
my comrade Ambrosio, an unfortunate soldier, who after having been four
years a prisoner among the Moors, is reduced to labour for his
subsistence.” The bargain was soon struck, and Ambrosio hired to begin
his work the next morning. Our new workman, to shew that he had his work
at heart, was up betimes to attend his new master, who led him into the
garden, and putting the wheelbarrow into his hands, told him what he was
to do. Ambrosio took to his work as readily as if he had been all his
life-time in the trade: at which his master was so much satisfied, that
he praised him exceedingly, assuring him that he would, in time, make an
excellent workman.
Nobody yet appeared stirring in the house; but about ten o’clock our
workman observed some of the Moorish women at the windows of Daraxa’s
apartment, and shortly after, Daraxa herself with Donna Elvira. He now
began to felicitate himself upon his contrivance; and felt delighted
with the anticipation of the surprise the ladies would be in, when they
should be walking in the garden, and recognize him in this laughable
disguise. He even flattered himself, that in this habit, he might
occasionally speak to them without danger. He knew not what sort of man
Don Lewis was.
Independent of Daraxa’s having been recommended to his care by the
Queen, in so particular a manner, that he would have considered himself
unworthy of such confidence, did he not watch night and day over her
actions, he well knew that she had many lovers; and did not believe
Daraxa to be more insensible than others, the Moorish women of those
days not being considered enemies to love. But was more afraid of
enterprises from without, than of inward insensibility; of amorous
cavaliers, than of the object beloved. He feared Don Alonso more than
any, whom he regarded as a favoured lover. And his fear had by no means
subsided, although well informed that this young lord was not yet
sufficiently recovered to leave his house, and, consequently, unable to
contrive any means of intercourse with the beautiful Moor. A commerce by
billet-doux seemed to him to be no less dangerous than the nearest
conversation. To relieve his mind entirely from such apprehensions, he
pressed the master-mason incessantly to make an end of his work, fearing
that some one of the workmen might be bold enough to undertake some
amorous commission: this idea kept him constantly uneasy, and obliged
him to observe all the labourers.
Seeing them at work at the close of this day, he took particular notice
of Ambrosio, whom he had not before observed, and who appeared to him a
very steady looking young fellow. This examination did not much please
the young Moor, who turned pale from fear of being discovered. He had,
however, nothing to apprehend; for suspicious and mistrustful as the old
man was, he could distinguish nothing but the labourer in Ambrosio; and
this false mason left his work at the regular time with the others,
having had no other gratification during the whole of the day, than that
of seeing his mistress pass him with Don Rodrigo, who was his rival. How
much patience is necessary in love, although the most violent of all
passions! Ozmin knew this already but too well. He was not, therefore,
dispirited, but thought himself amply rewarded for his trouble, in
having seen his beloved. If this can satisfy a Spaniard, why should it
not suffice to make a Moor feel happy?
Fortune was much more favourable towards him the following day. He
returned to his labour with fresh courage. The wheelbarrow was in
perpetual motion; and as in carrying the stones along he was obliged to
pass frequently under the windows of Daraxa’s apartment, he began to
sing a pastoral song in the Moorish language. The masons considered him
a lively fellow, who had been a long time prisoner among the Infidels,
and were not surprised at hearing him sing one of their songs. But Laida
heard him from her chamber; and curious to know what man it could be who
was singing one of the songs of her country so well, went down into the
garden, and recognized Ozmin.
She pretended to be gathering flowers for her mistress, which she did
almost every day; and the Moor perceiving that she leered upon him, as
he passed by her next time with his wheelbarrow, let fall a letter just
before her eyes, which he had brought with him concealed in his bosom,
without stopping or even looking at Laida, who instantly snatched it up,
and carried it to her mistress.
You will easily conceive the joy and surprise of Daraxa. She was still
in bed. She rose immediately, and dressed herself quickly, to enjoy
from her window the pleasure of again beholding a lover so dear to her.
She was much affected to see that he felt no shame in subjecting himself
to so wretched a condition to show his extreme love for her; and yet
there was something in this fantastical equipage which delighted her
extremely. She wrote an answer to his letter, which she entrusted to
Laida, who took the first opportunity to deliver it, unperceived by any
one. From so propitious a commencement to his adventure, Signor Ambrosio
began to relish his trade of a mason. Daraxa was almost all day at the
window to see him pass and repass; so that they had full opportunity to
converse by signs, which had a thousand charms for two lovers of so
refined a character.
Thus they went on for several days. Don Lewis never failed to be among
the workmen every evening, that his presence might excite them to
despatch their work, and he always remarked that Ambrosio was the most
indefatigable among them. He took a particular fancy for him on this
account; and thinking that he would make a good servant, he inquired of
the master-mason where he had procured so good a labourer. “One of the
artisans of the city brought him to me,” answered he, “and I have every
reason to be well satisfied with him.” With so good a recommendation the
Marquis took Ambrosio aside, to whom he had never yet spoken, and asked
him of what country he was. Our labourer made answer, in the most
clownish manner he could possibly affect, that he was born at Arragon;
and went on, fully confirming what Orviedo had before related to the
master-mason. Don Lewis found his story very plausible, and it even
seemed to him that he had the accent of that country. “Who was your
master at Granada,” continued he, “and in what were you particularly
employed?” “My Lord,” said Ambrosio, “I was servant to a great merchant,
who had a very fine garden, and I had the care of his flowers.” “You
know then how to cultivate a flower-garden!” cried the Marquis. “I am
delighted; for I am just in want of a man to pay attention to mine,
which I take great pride in. I have been wishing for one for these three
months past, as my present gardener will not undertake the entire care
of it; if, therefore, you are willing to serve me, I will pay you good
wages, and shall not be disregardful of your future fortune, provided
you continue faithful, and perform your duty punctually.”
At these words, our pretended labourer expressed more by his outward
behaviour than by words, that he was most grateful for Don Lewis’s
kindness, which he would endeavour to deserve by his future exertions.
The agreement was soon made; Don Lewis desired him to lay by his apron,
take leave of his present master, and to wait upon him the next day,
when he should be provided with every thing necessary for the
cultivation of his flower garden.
Ozmin was now no longer, therefore, a mason, but a gardener to the
Marquis de Padilla, who, on his arrival next day, began by prescribing
to him the line of conduct which he was to observe, if he hoped to be
retained for any length of time in his family. He desired him to
entertain the greatest respect for the ladies, and to avoid any sort of
intercourse with the female servants. He dwelt particularly on this
point, because, in spite of his affected clownish looks, he thought him
of a handsome person.
After this lecture, his patron, who had sufficiently discovered to
Ambrosio that he was a true Spaniard in his opinion of the fair sex, set
his new gardener to work in his own presence, to judge of his ability,
for he knew enough of the art to judge of his performance. Fortunately
for Ozmin, he had a taste for flowers, and was as skilful in their
culture as many a florist by profession. Don Lewis was soon convinced
that he had gained an acquisition, upon which he prided himself, and he
was so full of it, that he could not refrain from mentioning it at
dinner. He said that he had been lucky enough to meet with a gardener to
cultivate his flowers, and he hoped that for the future his
flower-garden would be well attended to. “Among my workmen,” added he,
“I remarked a young fellow who was employed at the wheelbarrow, whom I
asked a few questions, and have discovered that he is a complete adept
in the culture of flowers.”
This discourse did not escape Daraxa, who doubted not that the new
gardener was Ozmin, and hoped that she should by this means have more
frequent opportunities of speaking and writing to him. After dinner, she
led Elvira into her apartment, where they both stood at the window that
looked towards the garden. Ambrosio was at this time in the middle of
the parterre opposite to them. The beautiful Moor having recognized him,
and wishing to amuse herself, pointed him out to her friend; “Look at
the gardener of whose skill your father has been boasting to us just
now; observe him attentively; does not your heart whisper something in
his favour? do you not feel some unusual emotions?”
Elvira laughed aloud at these words which she thought were meant only in
joke; but after having looked for sometime she began to suspect the
truth. But the fear of being mistaken, and then laughed at, prevented
her from saying what she thought, till Daraxa pressing her to answer and
calling her insensible confirmed her suspicions. She then broke forth
into an excess of joy and passionate expressions which but too well
betrayed her excessive love for Don Jaymé. The prudent Moor rejoiced
exceedingly that she had no longer concealed the metamorphosis of that
cavalier. “My dear Elvira,” said she, “it is well that I have been the
first to make this discovery. Alas! if Don Jaymé had presented himself
before you in the presence of Don Lewis or Don Rodrigo, your surprise
would have ruined us; but as you are now prepared to see him, I trust
you will so restrain your feelings, as not to create any suspicions.”
Elvira promised that she would do her best: after which the two ladies
amused themselves by discoursing of the pretended Ambrosio.
Don Lewis’s daughter could not conceive how he had managed to deceive
her father, the most mistrustful of men; and felt well pleased that Don
Jaymé had subjected himself to so mean an employment for her sake. Had
she known as much as her friend upon that score, her grateful
sentiments would doubtless have abated.
From this time there was nothing but pleasures and intrigues from
morning till night between the two ladies and the happy gardener.
Claricia and Laida their confidants were expert girls, who served them
with as much address as zeal. Ambrosio on his side acquitted himself so
skilfully towards both his mistresses, that they were both well
satisfied. Never was any affair better conducted. Elvira disclosed all
the feelings of her heart to her friend, and Daraxa was prudent enough
not to communicate what she felt in return. These rivals had each their
particular hiding place in the garden; love letters flew to and fro;
there was a perfect post of gallantry established; and if their
communication had gone no further, ought they not to have been well
satisfied with so agreeable a life? But if love be sufficiently
gratified when ’tis only in fair way of succeeding, it immediately
ceases to be love. That passion soon grows tired of the same pleasures
too often repeated; it looks for variety. The impatient Elvira longed
for an interview, and in her next letter desired Don Jaymé to meet them
that night at the window of the lower gallery, of which Claricia would
get the key. Although Daraxa did not altogether approve of this
nocturnal meeting, she had not sufficient resolution to object to it.