door of which was always closed at midnight by order of Don Lewis, and
remained shut until the hour for returning to work the next morning:
this, however, was but a trifling impediment to our lover, who soon made
a ladder of small cords, by means of which he could descend from his
chamber into the garden, and re-ascend at his pleasure. In his answer
therefore, he assured the ladies that he would not fail to be at the
appointed spot the next night. With what impatience did they await that
moment; and when it arrived, how delighted were they to be able to
converse with their dear Ambrosio. Elvira gave way to the impetuosity of
her feelings, without restraint; and Daraxa’s, though more restrained,
were not in reality less violent. The windows of the gallery were very
low, and the iron bars were at a sufficient distance apart to admit an
arm between them. The amorous Elvira, emboldened by the darkness of the
night, put her hands through the bars for Ozmin to kiss, to the heart’s
regret of Daraxa. Ozmin, who well knew the delicate feelings of his
country-woman on this point, took every opportunity of mitigating the
pain that he knew she must feel on the occasion, by every endearment he
could bestow on her unperceived by her friend; this interview,
therefore, was the cause of more anxiety than gratification to Daraxa,
who, though she possessed her lover’s heart, thought herself much to be
pitied; when, on the contrary, her friend, though not loved by Ozmin as
she imagined, felt herself truly happy. The one, ignorant of her
happiness, was unhappy; while the other, who knew not how unfortunate
she really was, felt elated with joy.
After two hours’ conversation they at last parted: Ambrosio regained his
chamber, and the ladies withdrew, very differently affected by this
interview. If Don Lewis’s daughter felt desirous for a second meeting,
Daraxa’s wishes were much the reverse. Elvira had shewn so little
modesty in this first interview, that she had good reason to fear she
would become still less reserved, and more violent in her love; she
could not, therefore, any longer refrain from writing a letter to Ozmin
on the subject, wherein she told him that she never wished to converse
with him again in this clandestine manner by night, the pleasure of
which cost her too dear. The faithful Moor, who would rather have died
than have given any real cause for his mistress’ suspicions, carefully
avoided, under various pretences, every proposition that was made to him
by Elvira for another interview, whose personal attractions were, in
reality, too alluring to be long trifled with with impunity.
In the mean time the masons had made an end of their work, and there
being now no longer any thing to apprehend from that quarter, Don Lewis
allowed the ladies the full liberty of walking in the garden when they
pleased. One day, as they were sitting with Don Rodrigo in an arbor, his
sister, who did not much mind him, and wished to accustom him to her
talking with Ambrosio, called that gardener as he was passing by, and
desired him to gather them some flowers. Donna Elvira wishing to detain
him, began to question him about his sufferings while a prisoner at
Granada; upon which Don Rodrigo requested Daraxa to converse for a short
time with him in the Moorish language, to see if he was well acquainted
with it. The beautiful Moor willingly consented to oblige Don Rodrigo in
this respect, and told him, that for a Spaniard he spoke it tolerably
well.
Don Rodrigo, who frequently amused himself by conversing with Ambrosio,
was so much pleased with his good sense and wit, which Ozmin could not
entirely conceal, that he thought he might make use of him to assist his
pretensions to Daraxa, and for this purpose admitted him more into his
confidence. He was now, therefore, the first to call him, without even
asking the ladies’ permission, allowed him to take a part in the
conversation, and was pleased to hear him talk in the Moorish language
with Daraxa. The happy Ambrosio, having become thus familiar with his
young master, never saw him enter the garden with the ladies but he ran
and joined them without ceremony; or if by chance he failed of doing it,
Donna Elvira went herself to look for him, and never returned without
him. Don Rodrigo, who was fully occupied with his own affairs, never
took any notice of these little inconsistencies, not in the least
imagining that his sister could fall in love with a servant. If,
however, Elvira only beheld Don Jaymé in Ambrosio, Daraxa beheld Ozmin
in Don Jaymé; every fresh proof, therefore, of her friend’s violent
passion for him, increased the uneasiness of this jealous Moor.
While all these things were going on at Don Lewis’s, the young Don
Alonso de Zuniga, more enamoured than ever, and being recovered of his
wound, began to get abroad again. He had heard that his mistress had
been entrusted by the Queen to Don Lewis’s care, with the greatest
regret, as well from his natural aversion for Don Rodrigo, as from a
jealousy of long standing between their families. Notwithstanding all
this, he felt that it was necessary for his peace of mind to obtain some
tidings, and even see her, if it were any way possible. For this
purpose, he employed some very able assistants, who won over one of
Donna Elvira’s women by means of a certain sum of money paid in advance.
This obliging damsel was no other than Claricia whom I have before
mentioned to you; who was born for the sole purpose of conducting love
intrigues, and was as likely as any one to succeed in cases that she
undertook. Don Alonso asked but one piece of service of her for his
money, which was, to procure him the pleasure of speaking to Daraxa.
Claricia promised wonders; and in the course of conversation she related
to him the full particulars of Elvira’s amour with Don Jaymé, who from
a nobleman of the city of Arragon had transformed himself into a
gardener to shew his excessive love for her.
This story, to which Don Alonso listened with the greatest attention,
much surprised him, and he was curious to know the most minute
circumstances of it. Of these Claricia was well able to inform him, and
she told him every thing that she herself knew on the subject. Thus she
was not able to tell him of the share that the beautiful Daraxa had in
this adventure. Alonso could not possibly conceive who this Don Jaymé
Vivez could be, of whom he had never heard, either at court or in the
army. He would willingly have made acquaintance and acted in conjunction
with him, to make a party of four, the mistresses of both, as he
conceived, being in the same house. This thought gave rise to many
others. He reproached himself that he had not been as courageous as Don
Jaymé, and also gained admission at Don Lewis’s under some disguise or
other, which would have procured him the opportunity of speaking with
Daraxa. His imagination grew upon this point, and he amused his mind by
forming a thousand designs on the subject.
Let us return to the ladies. Elvira, persuaded that it was not usual to
love merely for the sake of sighing, and that there must be an end to
every thing, resolved to be united to her dear Don Jaymé, who appeared
so worthy to possess her. But she felt considerable hesitation and
trouble in being the first to make such a proposal. It was a step that
revolted against propriety too much for her to think of. She reflected
that it would be much preferable to avail herself of the assistance and
mediation of her friend, by whom she considered herself sufficiently
beloved, to expect her service on such an occasion. She addressed
herself, therefore, to Daraxa, and besought her, in the strongest terms,
to undertake her cause for her.
Daraxa was now truly grieved; for she found that Elvira would willingly
consent to elope, and actually meditated a clandestine marriage. Having,
however, somewhat recovered herself, she said to her friend, “I am
disposed to do what you desire; but before I speak to Don Jaymé, my real
friendship will not permit me to dispense with this question: whether
you have well reflected on what you are daring to venture upon? No, no,”
added she, “you cannot have considered into how many troubles you must
infallibly plunge yourself. Suffer me to point out to you what you owe
to your family, as well as to yourself. You are willing to put yourself
in the power of a man of whom you know neither the birth nor fortune.
Can you, with any sort of prudence, rely on him so entirely as to make
such advances to him as are by no means suitable, under any
circumstances, to one of your noble birth? and if, unfortunately, as is
not impossible, these advances be not received agreeable to your wishes,
what shame and regret must follow so indiscreet a line of conduct!”
Judicious as these remonstrances were, Elvira only heard them with
impatience; and not being able to answer them with any good reasons, she
replied as one resolved, that her excessive love would permit her to
follow no other counsels than those of her own heart. When Daraxa saw
that there was no hope of diverting her from her design, she no longer
opposed her, but promised that she would make proposals to Don Jaymé
that very night. But she was somewhat discomposed when Elvira, either
from mistrust or wishing to have so good an opportunity of forming her
own opinion of the sentiments of the beloved object, said, that she
wished to be present herself, unknown to that cavalier, during the
conversation, and that she would conceal herself behind the curtain.
Nothing was now wanting but to desire Ambrosio to repair to the window
of the lower gallery at midnight, which the ladies requested by a letter
which they wrote to him in common, in which they sent him word that they
had something of the utmost importance to communicate.
He failed not to be there at the hour appointed, and was much surprised
to find Daraxa there alone. “Signor Don Jaymé,” said Daraxa, “I have, in
the first place, some ill news to tell you, which is, that I am here
alone. Your mistress wished me to have a private conversation with you,
on which depend her happiness and your own.” After this preface, the
cunning Moor glided her hand through the iron bars and pressed that of
Ozmin, who understood immediately that this interview was not without
mystery. Such was his quickness of penetration that he made a very
shrewd guess of what was the subject; and no sooner had Daraxa entered
upon the delicate proposals she had to make to him, than he knew well
what would follow; but, so far from being discomposed by it, he turned
every thing into raillery that was said or proposed to him. In vain did
Daraxa protest that she was speaking seriously, requesting him to answer
in the same serious manner; he still continued his tone of raillery
throughout.
Thus terminated this interview, to the satisfaction of Daraxa, who
rejoiced sincerely that it had ended in this manner, and who, thinking
that she had done her part, expected some acknowledgments from her
friend. But Elvira was more inclined to reproach than to compliment her.
In her ill humour she imputed to Daraxa all Don Jaymé’s ridicule,
whence she inferred that it was most imprudent to act by proxy in love,
when able to conduct one’s own cause, and made a vow that in future she
would trust her affairs to nobody, but use every means in her power to
induce Don Jaymé to elope with her.
She behaved to Daraxa the next morning in the same manner as usual. They
met without even mentioning what had passed the preceding evening, and
took their usual walk together in the evening, concealing from each
other their true sentiments, each occupied by her own meditations.
I have already told you that Don Rodrigo had discovered in Ambrosio a
man whom he thought likely to promote his interest with Daraxa, who had
hitherto only treated his professions of love with indifference. The
coldness of his constitution, however, was such, that this did not by
any means discourage him; not susceptible of violent love, the little
progress that he made in Daraxa’s favour caused him no trouble. The
advantage he possessed over his rivals, in seeing and conversing with
the beautiful Moor, was a pleasure that consoled him, though he knew he
was not the favoured lover. As he had not as yet acknowledged his
sentiments to Daraxa, otherwise than by any little attentions he had
paid her, and perceiving that she took pleasure in speaking the Moorish
language with Ambrosio, he determined to prevail upon this gardener to
declare his passion for her in that language; and Ambrosio accepted the
commission, promising his young master to perform it with all imaginable
zeal the first opportunity that should present itself, which occurred
the very same day.
The ladies, after having taken several turns about the garden, entered
the arbour in which they usually rested themselves. Ambrosio came up to
them with a basket of flowers; and Don Rodrigo desired him to make up
some nosegays, and at the same time made sign to Elvira to follow him,
as though he had something particular to communicate to her. The brother
and sister having left the arbour, Ozmin, finding himself alone with his
mistress, was beginning to speak to her in a tone of pleasantry in
favour of Don Rodrigo’s passion; but he perceived her melancholy
appearance and desisted. “Whence this sorrow, Madam?” said he, with a
countenance that betrayed his concern. “How happens it, that when I am
about to divert you by the performance of a part but little dissimilar
to that which you enacted towards me last night, I find you thus
evidently affected with grief?” A sigh from Daraxa was the only answer.
This redoubled Ozmin’s surprise and anxiety. “Speak,” cried he, “speak
to me, Daraxa, if you wish not to drive me to despair. What can your
silence and that sigh portend? They seem to announce more misfortunes
than I have as yet had any reason to fear.” The beautiful Moor at length
replied, that the peculiarity of their fortunes, and the daily crosses
they both met with, occasioned a sadness which she could not shake off.
Ozmin endeavoured to soothe her by representing that her courage ought
not to forsake her now, after having hitherto borne their misfortunes
with firmness; and assured her that he was much mortified in having been
obliged to shew some sort of complacency for Elvira’s blind passion for
him. He had no sooner uttered these words, than Daraxa burst into tears,
and said, in a voice frequently interrupted by violent sobbings, “that
alone, alas! overcomes my firmness, which is proof against all other
persecutions. What torment for a tender and delicate heart, to be
incessantly exposed to what is most likely to rend it in twain! Perhaps
I may, ere long, reproach myself for having had too great a confidence
in your fidelity.”
“Can I understand you rightly?” replied Ozmin, much affected: “_you_
think me capable of loving another: ah! Daraxa, can you, who know my
heart, do me such an injustice? you, who so well know my virtuous
sentiments as well as my abhorrence of infidelity.” “I would willingly
believe,” answered Daraxa, wiping away her tears, “that I am to blame
for being thus mistrustful; but I love you, Ozmin, and I cannot reflect
without pain on your attentions to Elvira: you would not have gone so
far, had they been equally painful to you. When I consider their
effects, I am still more alarmed; Elvira is more positive than ever that
she shall overcome your resistance by her perseverance. How then can I
feel convinced that you will not at last be wrought upon by her
excessive passion?” “I!” cried Ozmin, with transport; “be assured
that....” Here he was interrupted by Elvira, who at that instant ran
hastily into the arbour; and her brother joined them the next moment.
Ozmin did not expect them so soon, considering that Don Rodrigo would
have amused his sister much longer, under pretence of his wishing to
speak to her on some important business. Don Rodrigo had fully intended
this, but was unable to detain Elvira, who suddenly started from him,
for the purpose of interrupting Daraxa’s conversation with Don Jaymé.
The dumb scene that passed between these four persons gave rise to many
thoughts. Don Rodrigo and his sister observed that Daraxa appeared much
dejected; they even thought that she must have been crying, upon which
they each formed different opinions. As for Ozmin, as he had nothing
more to do in the arbour, and as he only personated Ambrosio, it was
easy for him to escape from this awkward situation by retiring.
Don Rodrigo quickly followed him, and full of impatience to learn what
had passed between him and Daraxa, whom he began to suspect strongly of
some extraordinary understanding together, he asked him whether he had
acquitted himself of his commission, and whether he had any good tidings
to communicate. “My Lord,” answered Ambrosio, “you allowed me so short a
time to converse with the beautiful Moor, that it has not been possible
for me to render you any important service.” “I grant,” replied Don
Rodrigo, “that you cannot have had a very long discourse with her, but
you must needs have made good use of that time; since Daraxa appears to
be so much moved by what you have imparted to her, that I am well
convinced she must even have been shedding tears.” “Those tears,”
replied the false gardener, “may possibly have been the bitter fruits
of the liberty I took in speaking to her of your passion, with which she
was perhaps not well pleased.”
“Have you no better reasons than these to tell me?” cried Don Rodrigo.
“No, my Lord,” said Ambrosio; “I shall merely add that this lady’s heart
may probably be already engaged. A young lady who has been educated in
so gallant a Court as that of Granada may, very likely, have become
sensible to the sighs of some nobleman of that country.” “I agree with
you,” replied the jealous Don Rodrigo sharply; “and, moreover, I think
your object in being here is less to serve me than that happy rival.”
“You do me an injustice,” replied the gardener; “you wrong me much by
suspecting that I would betray you for an Infidel.” “Infidel or
Christian,” cried Don Rodrigo imperatively; “I begin to suspect you; you
are rather too wise for a gardener; and when I call to mind all your
interesting little Moorish discourses together, I am the more confirmed
in my suspicions. But look to it,” added he in a menacing tone; “you are
in a family where knaveries are not long concealed.” Having thus said,
he returned to the arbour to the ladies, who still preserved the most
profound silence. No sooner had he arrived, than they rose and retired
to their own apartments.
Don Rodrigo, who at that time felt no desire to enter into conversation
with them, allowed them to depart without any observation, and walked
round the garden alone. Soon after this he met his father, who was
diverting himself with looking over his flowers, and he stopped to bear
him company. Don Lewis was speaking to Ambrosio, professing himself well
satisfied with his attention and skill in the culture of his flowers.
“He is possibly more skilful than is to be wished,” said Don Rodrigo,
with an affected grin; “and, if I am not deceived, understands more
than one employment.” The old Marquis, whose attention was entirely
engrossed in looking over his parterre, did not at first comprehend the
meaning of his son’s remark, and answered, without reflection, “It is
true that Ambrosio is not deficient in sense, and I am convinced that I
shall find him a very useful servant.” “I very much doubt that he is
here with that intention,” replied Don Rodrigo; “at least I am persuaded
that others will have better reason than you to be satisfied with his
services. Shall I tell you my sentiments? I am of opinion that he is
more devoted to Daraxa’s interests than to your’s; or at least that he
is the agent of some one of that lady’s lovers.”
“Ah! my son,” interrupted Don Lewis laughing heartily, “I am now
convinced that you are really in love.” “If I am,” said Don Rodrigo, “I
can assure you that my love assists me to see instead of blinding me. I
can believe my own eyesight.” “What have you seen then?” cried the old
man; “tell me distinctly: for you shall find that I am Don Lewis de
Padilla, son of Don Gaspar, who was reckoned the most difficult to be
deceived among men in the age in which he lived; and I also have had the
honour to be told a hundred times that I am even more prudent and
circumspect than my father. If the choice that the Queen made of me to
take charge of the beautiful Moor is not sufficient to make you easy
upon this subject, inquire of the wisest persons at Court, whether I am
a man to be imposed on. In a word, son, I am turned of fifty; and if,
when I was only half that age, they had brought me not merely an
Arragonian, but even the most cunning fellow among the Greeks, it would
only have been necessary for me to look at him attentively for one
moment to have penetrated the inmost recesses of his soul.”
“My Lord,” replied Don Rodrigo, “no one on earth is more persuaded than
I am of the truth of what you say; but yet I cannot but think that this
Ambrosio only serves you to have the means of making himself useful to
another. He makes himself too familiar with Daraxa; as soon as he sees
her he addresses her in the Moorish language, which she always answers
in so complaisant a manner that I am convinced they have been long
acquainted. In short, I would not swear but that Ambrosio is any thing
rather than a gardener.” Don Lewis, instead of allowing that he could
possibly have been deceived on this occasion, became enraged with spite
at seeing himself suspected of having been made a dupe of. “You are a
strange man!” said he to his son. “Why did you allow these liberties of
which you complain? Do you not know that it is a capital crime among us
for a servant to lift his eyes towards his mistress? Do you but treat
this servant like the rest, and I will be answerable for his fidelity.
In regard to Daraxa, trust me to take proper care of her. Rest in peace;
I am on the watch night and day, and am well informed of every thing
that passes in the family.” Respect kept Don Rodrigo silent, who quitted
his father shortly after this, to wait on some one who desired to speak
to him.
After he had left him, the old Marquis, in spite of what he had been
just saying, fell into a deep musing, and a thousand vexatious
reflections occurred to him, which filled his mind with suspicions. To
complete his present troubles his chief gardener came up to him and
said, “My Lord, I have something of importance to communicate to you. I
heard such a noise in the garden last night, that I am convinced there
were several people round your house. Had I dared to have quitted my
own, contrary to your orders, I should be better able to tell you more
on the subject.” “People in my garden at night!” cried Don Lewis
astonished; “they must have come from your lodge then.” “No, my Lord,”
answered the master gardener; “Ambrosio and my servant have not the
power of leaving the house, the door of which I am most particular in
shutting every night, and never trust the key out of my own hands.”
The old Marquis knew not what to think. “Who can have entered my
garden?” said he to himself; “and what motives can they have had? I am
in no fear of thieves; the height of the wall is sufficient to deter
them. I cannot imagine it to be one of Daraxa’s lovers, who surely could
not be so fool-hardy as to expose himself to so great danger for the
sake of merely seeing her from a window. My gardener must certainly have
fancied all this, or the noise must have proceeded from some of my own
servants. If I have reason to suspect any one, it is that knave
Ambrosio, in respect of whom my son may be more in the right than I
chose to allow.”
Don Lewis, who was very uneasy under these thoughts, ordered his
gardener not to mention a syllable of the matter either to Ambrosio or
his other servant, but to keep a strict watch that very night; and if
they chanced to hear any more noise, to discharge a musket, and sally
out at the same time well armed. “For my own part,” added the Marquis,
“I shall myself, with the rest of my servants, be also prepared; and the
wretches who wish either to rob or dishonour me, will be cunning indeed
if they escape us all.” After having thus issued his orders, he withdrew
to prepare for the mighty feat that he contemplated.
If the two ladies, Don Lewis, and Don Rodrigo, were thus uneasy, Ozmin
was not without his share. He was not one who was easily alarmed; but
his rival’s last words to him seemed to deserve some attention, in
order to prevent, if possible, any ill that might accrue to him. He had
no weapon but a poniard, with which it was not possible to defend
himself against thirty servants that were employed in the family, should
they attempt to attack him. From what he observed, he felt convinced
that some misfortune was at hand: he had seen the two Padillas speaking
together with earnestness, and had afterwards remarked the serious
conversation between Don Lewis and the chief gardener. From all these
circumstances he did not doubt that he was the subject of their
discourse; so that, foreseeing that some cowardly and wicked attempt
upon his life was to be dreaded, he resolved to leave the place as soon
as he had communicated his intention to Daraxa, and concerted measures
with her to see each other again at the Queen’s return.