have spoken thrice, who is _he_? But it matters not: let him keep his
ears to himself, if he is given to lie awake. Listeners seldom hear
aught that is pleasant for themselves. Said you an officer of
Wellington's army? He, too, shall die, if he ventures to cross my path
this night!"
"Carlos! Madman! Let me beseech you not to raise your voice thus!"
intreated Alvarado in a whisper.
But Stuart had heard more than enough to whet his curiosity. Indeed,
owing to the tenor of those observations,--of which he had been an
involuntary listener,--he considered himself entitled to sift the matter
to the utmost. Examining the partition, which consisted only of lath
and plaster, he discovered, near the ceiling, a small hole in the stucco
cornice which surrounded the top of the wall.
"Stratagems are fair in war," thought he, as he mounted upon a side
table and placed his eye to the orifice, through which he obtained a
complete survey of the next apartment. A lustre hung from the roof, and
its light revealed Alvarado and Don Carlos Avallo,--a young cavalier,
about three-and-twenty years of age, whom he remembered to have met at
Aranjuez and other places. Alvarado, who was intreating him to lower
his voice, was standing half undrest,--at least without his vest,
doublet, and girdle, as if he had been preparing for rest when disturbed
by the visit of Avallo, who appeared to have entered by the window,
which stood half open. A short but graceful Spanish mantle enveloped the
left side of this young cavalier, who wore his broad hat pulled over his
face; but his fierce dark eyes flashed and gleamed brightly beneath its
shade, like those of a tiger in the dark; and when at times the rays of
light fell on his swarthy cheek, it seemed inflamed with rage, while his
teeth were clenched, and his lips pale and quivering. He kept his left
hand free from the folds of his velvet mantle, but his fingers grasped
tremblingly the hilt of a poniard, which appeared with a brace of
pistols in his embroidered girdle. A gold crucifix glittered on his
breast, and a long black feather, fastened in the band of his hat,
floated gracefully over his left shoulder. He appeared a striking and
romantic figure as he stood confronting Alvarado, with his proud head
drawn back and his right foot placed forward, while he surveyed the
proprietor of the mansion with eyes keen and fiery, and with rage and
unutterable scorn bristling on every hair of his smart moustaches.
"Look you, Alvarado," said he, after a very long pause; "I will not be
trifled with! _Santos!_ my dagger is likely to punch an unhappy hole in
the old friendship we have so often vowed to each other over our cups at
Salamanca, if we come not to some terms this very night. Beard o' the
Pope, senor! I am not now the simple student I was then. Alvarado! you
know me. This night, then--"
"There is but one hour of it to run," observed the other in a
deprecating tone. "There is but one hour--"
"Time enough, and to spare, then, thou base juggler!"
"What would you have, insolent?" said Alvarado fiercely, as he closed
the casement with violence. "To-morrow I will meet you in the pass of
Lanz, and there, with pistols, with sword, or with dagger, I will yield
you that satisfaction for which you have such a craving."
The other laughed scornfully. "No, no, my blustering guerilla! such a
meeting will not suit my purpose. Every drop of blood in the veins of
your body would not wash away the insult you are likely to cast upon the
name of Avallo by means of this poor sister of mine. Hear me, Don
Alvarado! and hear me for the last time! I tell you that my sister has
been wronged,--basely wronged and betrayed by you! I want not your
blood; but do my sister justice, or, by the bones of Rodrigo! I will
make all Spain ring with the tidings of Avallo's vengeance!"
"How!" said the other sullenly; "do her justice?"
"Wed her,--ay, before this week is out!"
"A week is a short time, Senor Carlos; and you forget that Ximena is
likely to live for many months yet," said the other with a grim smile.
"Marry Elvira? Fool! the cursed trammels of one unhappy marriage are
wound around me already."
"You are a Spaniard, senor,--my friend," replied Avallo scornfully, "and
can easily find some means to break these trammels you speak of. Thanks
to our sunny clime, the yoke of blessed matrimony sits lightly on our
necks. This little chit of Asturia, your wife, shall not long be a bar
in the way of righting my sister's honour."
"Ximena--"
"Let her die!" said the young desperado, with a thick voice of
concentrated passion; "let her die this very night--this very hour! She
is a desolate woman. Should her death be suspected, who shall avenge
her? All her kindred perished when the French sacked Madrid. Shall she
take her departure to a better place to-night, then?"
"Villain!" exclaimed Alvarado, flinging away from him; "speak again of
that, and I will slay you where you stand!"
"Pooh!" replied the other with contempt. "I have three trusty mates
within cry, whose daggers would slash to ribbons every human being your
house contains; so talk gently of slaying, senor. By _Santiago!_ if it
needs must be, all Spain shall know that Don Carlos Avallo is a cavalier
as jealous of his sister's honour and of his own name, as any hidalgo
between Portugal and the Pyrenees. Do you still scruple? See the hand
of the clock approaches to the twelfth hour."
"Hush, devil and tempter! I tell you you are the veriest villain in
Spain!"
"Hah! I now remember. Most worthy Don Alvarado, I suppose I must
acquaint my uncle the prime-minister with the name of the traitor who
betrayed to the savage Mazzachelli, the Italian follower of Buonaparte,
the long-defended town of Hostalrich, that he might obtain revenge by
meanly destroying its governor, the brave Don Julian de Estrada. I have
to say but two words of this matter to the minister at Madrid, and,
Alvarado, thou art a lost man!"
Alvarado's large eyes gleamed with vindictive fury, while his olive
cheek grew pale as death.
"A craven cavalier, truly!" continued the ferocious Avallo, regarding
him with a countenance expressive of stern curiosity, and cool, but
triumphant derision. "_Hombre!_ you know that I have heard of that
misdeed of yours; and should I breathe but a word abroad about the
unpleasant fact, your ample estates will be pressed into the royal
purse, and your neck in the ring of the _garrote_, as surely as my name
is Avallo. Choose, then," said he, in a deliberate tone; "choose, then,
between utter destruction and the death of this pale-faced Ximena. The
beauty of Elvira will make you ample amends. Her beauty-- But you have
already judged of that, Senor Triaquero," he added bitterly.
"Wine, or something else, has made you mad," said the other, with an
attempt to be bold. "Think not that I will permit you to lord it over
me thus. And as for that affair you spoke of--Hostalrich--something more
will be requisite than the mere assertion of a subaltern of the Castel
Blazo regiment, to destroy the hard-won honour and doubloons of such a
cavalier as myself."
"Perfectly reasonable," said the other, scornfully. "Three different
letters, written by you to Mazzachelli, and dated from Hostalrich, are
abundant proof. I found them on the road-side near Vittoria, amidst a
wilderness of papers; and now they are in the safe strong box of a
certain lawyer, subtle as the devil himself."
Alvarado sunk into a chair, and covered his face with his hands, to hide
the rage and mortification which distorted it.
"Hostalrich! Hah! 'twas a brave siege that!" said his tormentor,
contemplating his dismay with a triumphant smile. "And then poor Don
Julian to be so basely betrayed, after all his chivalric defence and
deeds of arms! But to return. Ximena,--is not her chamber at the end
of the gallery?"
"It is," faltered the other.
"'Tis well," replied Avallo, striking his hand on the casement. The
dark figure of a stranger appeared in the balcony outside the window.
After a few moments' conference, he withdrew.
"Let us only keep quiet," said he, turning a little pale, as he
extinguished the lights in the lustre. "Retire to bed, Senor Alvarado,
who is soon to become the husband of Elvira Avallo. Sleep sound, for
Ximena will be found cold in the morning: and see that, in the critical
hour of discovery, your wonted cunning fails you not. Show grief, and
rage, and tears: you understand me? _Diavolo_! I hope your walls are
built substantially. Should the guest who occupies the next room have
overheard us, all is lost. But I have arranged for him. To make sure of
his silence, Narvaez Cifuentes shall waylay him among the mountains at
Roncesvalles, where even the sword of Roland would fail to aid him
now-a-days."
While the cavalier, probably to keep up the courage of his companion,
continued to speak away in loud and incautious tones, Stuart descended
from his eminence, where, with considerable repugnance, he had acted the
eaves-dropper so long; and drawing his sword, advanced to the room-door.
In his eagerness to unfasten it, the handle of the bolt broke, leaving
it still in its place; and the door remained shut and immovable. A cold
perspiration burst over Ronald's brow. The life of the poor lady seemed
to hang but by a hair.
"What evil spirit crosses me now!" he muttered. "A moment like this may
cause the repentance of a life-time. Ah, assassins! I shall mar you
yet." Unsheathing his dirk, he applied it to the iron plate on which
the bolt ran in a groove. He attempted to wrench it off: the thick
blade of the long dagger bent like whalebone, and threatened every
instant to snap, while the envious and obstinate bolt remained firm as a
rock.
A cry--a shrill and wailing cry, which was succeeded by a gurgling
groan, arose from the end of the corridor. The fate of Ximena was
sealed! Grown desperate, Stuart rushed against the door, and applying
his foot, sent frame, panels, and every thing flying along the passage
in fifty fragments. A lustre of coloured lamps, which hung from the
ceiling, revealed to him Donna Ximena in her night-dress, rushing from
an opposite door. Her long black hair was unbound, and streamed down
her uncovered back and bosom, the pure white of which was stained with
blood, that had also drenched her linen vest and wrapper. These were
her only attire. A villain, wearing a dark dress, and having his face
concealed by a black velvet mask, was in pursuit; and, catching her by
her long flowing hair, at the very moment of her escape from the door,
dashed her shrieking to the earth with his left hand, while the short
stiletto which armed his right was twice buried in her neck and bosom.
Almost at the same moment the long double-edged broad-sword of the
Highlander was driven through his body, and, wallowing in blood, the
stricken bravo sunk beside the warm and yet quivering corpse of his
victim. His comrade escaped, and Ronald, disdaining again to strike,
withdrew slowly his dripping blade, and placed his foot upon his neck.
"Hah! Senor Narvaez!" said he. "Devil incarnate! the murder of Donna
Catalina and the wound at Merida are revenged now; and 'tis happily from
my hand you have received the earthly punishment due to your crimes."
He tore the visor from the face of the bleeding man, and, to his equal
disappointment and surprise, beheld, not the rascal visage of Cifuentes,
but the fierce and forbidding countenance of one that might well have
passed for his brother. Death and malice were glaring in his yellow
eyes, and his features were horribly distorted by the agony he endured.
By this time the whole household were alarmed, and servants, male and
female, came rushing to the place with consternation and horror
imprinted on their features. The aged _contador_ of the mansion
appeared in his trunk-breeches and nightcap, armed with a dagger and
ferule; the fat old bearded butler came to the scene of action clad only
in his doublet and shirt, and grasping, for defence, a couple of pewter
flasks by the neck: the other servants bore knives, stilettoes, pikes,
spits, and whatever weapons chance had thrown in their way.
On beholding their lady dead on the floor, a man dying beside her, and
Stuart standing over them with a crimson weapon in his hand, they
uttered a shout, and prepared for a general assault. A bloody
engagement might have commenced, when the villanous Don Alvarado
appeared, with dismay and grief so strongly imprinted on his
countenance, that Stuart was almost inclined to doubt the evidence of
his own senses, and to believe the conversation with Carlos Avallo must
have been a dream. He looked around for that worthy hidalgo; but, on
the first alarm, he had vanished through the window of Alvarado's room.
The last-named gentleman seemed inclined to impute the whole affair to
Stuart, and a serious tumult would unquestionably have ensued, had not a
party of the Alava regiment, who formed the guard on the Conde
Villamur's house, arrived with fixed bayonets, and carried off all the
inmates prisoners. Perceiving Ronald's uniform, the serjeant commanding
the escort desired him to retain his sword, and seemed disposed to allow
him to depart; but a syndic, with a band of alguazils, burst in with
their staves and halberts, and insisted on the whole party being taken
to the house of Micer Bartolme, the alcalde, on the opposite side of the
Plaza.
The magistrate was clamorously roused from bed, and forced to take his
seat and hear the case. He was very sulky at being disturbed, and,
seated in his easy chair, wrapped a blanket around him, and frowned with
legal dignity on all in the crowded apartment. Ronald felt considerable
anxiety for the issue of the affair, as all present seemed disposed to
consider him guilty; and he certainly had no ambition to die a martyr to
their opinions. The dead body of Ximena de Morla was deposited on the
floor. Her cheek was yet of a pale olive colour; but all her skin that
was bare,--her neck, bosom, arms, and ankles, were white as the
new-fallen snow, and beautifully delicate. A mass of dark curls and
braids fell from her head, and lay almost beneath the feet of the pale
group around her.
A flickering lamp threw its changeful gleams upon the company, and by
its light a clerk sat, pen in hand, to note the proceedings. Every
person present being sworn across the blades of two poniards, the
examination commenced, each witness stating what he knew in presence of
the others. The bravo, having declared that he was dying, called
eagerly for a priest, that he might be confessed. Accordingly, a
_padre_ belonging to a mountain-convent, who happened to be that night
in the house, approached slowly, and in no very agreeable mood, for his
brain was yet reeling with the fumes of his debauch overnight with the
alcalde, who had stripped him of every maravedi at faro. The moaning
ruffian lay upon the floor, still and motionless; but the blood fell
pattering from his undressed wound upon the damp tiles, while his thick
beard and matted hair were clotted with the perspiration which agony had
wrung from his frame.
A dead silence was maintained by all in the apartment while the padre
knelt over the assassin, and, in the dark corner where he lay, heard his
low-muttered confession of crimes, that would have made the hairs on his
scalp--had there been any--bristle with horror. Dreadful was the
anxiety of the dying wretch, whose coward soul was now recoiling at the
prospect of death, and with desperation he clung to the hopes given him
by his superstitious faith. Ever and anon he grasped the dark robe, the
knotted cord, or the bare feet of the Franciscan, beseeching him to
pity, to save, to forgive him; and the accents in which he spoke were
terrible to hear. The clerk sat smoking a paper cigar and scraping away
assiduously at a quill, while the alcalde nodded in his chair and fell
fast asleep. The alguazils leant on their halberts, and coolly surveyed
the company. A murder, which would have filled all Scotland with
horror, in Elizondo scarcely created surprise. But the halberdiers were
accustomed almost daily to brawls and deeds of blood, so that their
apathy could scarcely be wondered at.
The half-clad servants crowded together in fear, and Ronald stood aloof,
regarding with the utmost commiseration the form of the poor Spanish
lady, exposed thus in its half-clad state to the gaze of the rude and
vulgar. He kept a watchful eye on Alvarado, that he might not, by sign
or bribe, cause the padre to put any false colouring on the statements
whispered to him by the dying man, when he would have to recapitulate
them to the alcalde. The cavalier never dared to look in the direction
where his murdered wife lay; but, turning his back upon it, maintained a
sulky dignity, and continued to polish with his glove the hilt of his
stiletto, seeming, in that futile occupation, to be wholly abstracted
from worldly matters, while he muttered scarcely audible threats against
the alcalde, the syndic, and their followers for their interference.
The bravo, having handed over to the confessor all his loose change,
received in return an assurance of the forgiveness of mother church for
all his misdeeds, which seemed to console him mightily. The padre
mumbled a little Latin, and assuring him he might die in peace, buttoned
his pouch, containing the ill-gotten cash, with a very self-satisfied
air. It almost reimbursed the last night's losses at faro.
Nevertheless, the terrors of the guilty wretch returned; he moaned
heavily, and grasping the skirt of the Franciscan's cassock, besought
him earnestly not to leave him in so terrible a moment. He often
pressed the friar's crucifix to his lips, and the groans of mental and
bodily agony which escaped from them were such as Ronald Stuart had
never heard before,--and he had stood on many a battle-field. The bravo
believed himself dying, and, at his request, the Franciscan repeated
aloud his confession, in which he declared himself guilty of the lady's
murder, and exculpated every one, save his comrade Cifuentes, who gave
the first stroke, and Don Carlos Avallo, who, for twenty dollars, had
secured the service of their daggers,--but for what reason, he knew not.
He ended by a bitter curse on Stuart, whom he ceased not to revile; and
he vowed that, if he could rise from the grave, he would haunt him to
the latest day of his existence. Ronald heard the ravings of the wretch
with pity, and was very thankful that, in the extremity of his agony and
hatred, he had not declared him guilty of the murder of both.
"_Santa Maria de Dios!_" muttered the servants, signing the cross, and
shrinking back aghast at the ravings of the wounded man.
"Base scullion!" cried the sleepy magistrate, addressing the assassin,
"I will make you pay dearly for disturbing me of my night's rest. Vile
_ladron!_ the screw of the _garrote_ will compress your filthy weasand
tighter than you will find agreeable. Take your pen, _senor escrivano_,
and write to our dictation a warrant to apprehend, in the king's name, a
certain noble cavalier, by name Don Carlos Avallo, for causing the death
of this honourable lady. And further--"
He was interrupted by Alvarado, who desired imperiously that he would
leave Avallo to be dealt with otherwise; and tossing his purse, which
seemed heavy, into the alcalde's lap, he requested him to close this
disagreeable business at once.
"_Paix!_ as we say at faro,--double or quits; a very noble cavalier!"
muttered the partly-tipsy, and partly-sleepy alcalde, pocketing the cash
without betraying the least emotion. "Ho, senor scribe! give thy
warrant to the devil to light his cigar with. _Bueno!_ 'tis a drawn
game. Dismiss the senors,--the court is broken up."
Bestowing a menacing glance on Stuart, Alvarado withdrew; the alguazils
departed, taking the bravo with them, to get his wounds dressed before
they hanged him; and the corse of Ximena was borne off by her female
servants, who were loudly bewailing the loss of so good a mistress.
Day had dawned upon this extraordinary court, and its pale light was
struggling for mastery with the flame of the lamp, ere the magistrate so
abruptly closed the strange investigation. After all that had happened,
Ronald could not return to the mansion of Alvarado; but, sending for his
horse, at the invitation of the alcalde, and with the permission of the
alcalde's lady, he remained that day at their house, as he was too much
wearied by the want of sleep to commence his journey at the time he had
intended. To Micer Bartolme he related the conversation he had
overheard, and insisted on Don Alvarado's villany being punished,
threatening, for that purpose, to wait upon the Conde Penne Villamur,
and state to him all that he knew of the matter.
"By doing so, you would not gain any thing equal to what you
stake,--your life," replied the magistrate quietly, puffing away at a
long Cuba the while. "Hark you, _senor oficial_; I wish you no harm,
but beware how you cross the path or purposes of Castellon de la Plana.
He is a fierce hidalgo, and never spared man or woman in his hate or
vengeance; and his gossip, Don Carlos Avallo, is a born devil, a very
imp of _Satanas_! I know them both of old, and would fain keep the
peace with them, or my place of alcalde would not be worth a rotten
_castano_. Think not that I deal with you falsely in saying these
things. Heaven knows how many daggers Alvarado's gold may have
sharpened against you ere this. His look, as he departed, boded you no
good. You are a stranger in the land, and if you will take sound
advice, keep close within my house until to-morrow, when you can depart
with the padre Giuseppe. He goes by the way of the Maya rock to his
convent, and will show you the road to France."
Ronald felt the force of this advice, which was so cunningly imparted,
that he never suspected a hidden meaning. But the alcalde, with a
treachery not uncommon in Spain, was in communication with Alvarado, who
bribed him to detain the stranger until a plan was completed for his
ensnarement among the mountains.
Notwithstanding Bartolme's advice, Stuart often wished, during that
irksome day, to enjoy a ramble about Elizondo, but was as often warned
that ill-looking picaros were evidently watching the house. This
information served only to set his blood on fire, and he fretted and
fumed like a caged lion, and would have sallied out in spite of the
solemn warnings and injunctions; but the magistrate, with a cunning air
of affectionate and paternal solicitude, barred his way, and in so kind
a manner, that it was impossible to be angry. All this was mere acting.
Old Micer Bartolme and the Franciscan brother were two arrant sharpers
and knaves; but Ronald resisted firmly all their attempts to engage him
in gambling, and the day was passed without a card or dice being
produced, greatly to the chagrin of the friends, who, after having sold
the stranger to Alvarado, were desirous to strip him of his last peseta.
Next morning, at the old marching time, an hour before day-break, he
quitted Elizondo. He departed at that early hour for the double purpose
of "stealing a march" on Alvarado's spies, if any were really planted
upon him, and of proceeding expeditiously on his journey. His horse was
well refreshed by the delay at Elizondo, and carried him along at a
rapid trot. The padre Giuseppe, with whose presence and conversation he
could very well have dispensed, jogged on by his side, mounted uneasily
upon the hindmost part of a stout ass,--an animal not so much despised
in Spain as among us, by whom the large black cross borne by every
donkey on its back, is neither remarked nor reverenced. As they passed
from the Calle Mayor into the Plaza, Giuseppe pointed out, jocularly,
the body of the dead bravo, still seated upright on the chair of the
_garrote_, which was elevated on a scaffold about four feet above the
street; and his reverence increased the disgust of his companion by
passing several very unfriarly jokes upon the appearance of the corpse.