_CONSULTING A SWEET TOOTH._
"Friend Pedro!"
"Ay, what now?"
And the spice-dealer looked up from a small pile of curiosities, lying
on a tray on his knees, with a more than half-betrayed idea that
nothing his neighbour had to say could be so important, as calculating
how much he might hope to make by the sale of those uncommon wares.
But this belief was somewhat lessened when his eyes rested on his
friend's countenance. "Hey, then!" he ejaculated; "our painter yonder
saith that thou art never a true Spaniard, for thy face is too round,
but were he to see thee now he would surely tell a different tale."
"It is but lengthened by the height of my considering-cap," was the
answer, with a laugh that speedily restored his visage to its usual
good-humoured breadth.
Master Pedro appeared greatly relieved by the change. To say truth,
in that land of solemn faces and staid deportments, a cheerful
neighbour was as refreshing as a sunlit breeze in the early days of
spring; and the spice-dealer, although the solemnest of the solemn
himself, duly appreciated the fact, not to mention that he had a true
though hidden affection for this especial neighbour, and would have
grieved greatly if sorrow had befallen him. But long faces only due to
considering-caps--well, that was another thing, and really not worth
wasting the minutes of a working-day upon. He bent his head once more
over his tray of West Indian treasures, as he asked with diminished
interest:
"And pray then what has led thee to the wearing of a cap so weighty?
Have the good fathers of St. Jacomb refused the purchase of thy Venice
lustres, or will not they give thee a fair price for them?"
Burgess Sancho laughed again. "Nay, neighbour, trouble not thyself
to guess, for thy guess is wide of the mark. The good fathers closed
eagerly with my offer of the lustres, and the maravedis I demanded in
exchange are already in my pouch. But hark ye, friend Pedro!--with the
lustres came to me also two Venice glasses of the most changeful pearly
hue, tall and thin, and of a good capacity. And I have a mind to keep
them to myself, and, moreover, to try to-night how the flavour of a
good wine from Madeira goes with them. Come thou in, when the sun hath
gone down, and help me with my judgment."
"And also with my judgment on a matter of far more moment," muttered
the worthy trader to himself, with a shrewd twinkle in his eye at
having thus cleverly angled for his neighbour's company.
For the spice-dealer was one difficult to entice farther than his own
doorway; and nothing short of those promises of choice wine from the
Portuguese island of Madeira, to be drunk out of yet choicer goblets,
would have tempted him on the present occasion to break his rule. As
it was, the last glimmer of daylight had disappeared more than an hour
when a cloaked figure stepped from one door to the next, and gave a tap
upon the nail-studded panels.
"Better late than never, friend; come thy ways in," said Master Sancho
heartily, as he acted the part of his own door-porter, and ushered his
neighbour into a room brightly lighted with fire and lamp; for even
in that sunny land of Spain the cold, damp winds of December made the
blaze of crackling logs pleasant after sundown. What would not have
been so pleasant to English ideas, was the overpoweringly pervading
odour of burning lavender, a bundle of which was slowly smouldering
on the hearth, by way of giving the atmosphere of the apartment that
special tone and perfume considered desirable by its occupants.
On a small table in front of the cheerful hearth stood the beautiful
Venice glasses, tall and slender, shimmering with opal tints in the
ruddy glow, which also shone through a flask of golden-tinted Madeira,
and danced hither and thither over various dishes daintily set
forth with sweet-meats. For, ascetic-looking as Master Pedro was in
appearance, he had as sweet a tooth as any Roman, and Master Sancho was
too anxious to gain his aid or counsel to neglect anything that might
tend to put him in good humour.
But although Pedro's eyes gleamed with a certain satisfaction at sight
of the festive preparations, he was shrewd enough to read between the
lines; and as he stretched his feet comfortably towards the fire, and
put back his delicate glass after a contented sip, he asked with grim
humour:
"And now, friend Sancho, that you have baited your net and caught your
fly, tell me, what wouldest thou seek from out it?"
The merchant's face flushed at the unexpected question, and he began
hastily: "Now, by the Holy Virgin, I protest that good fellowship--"
"And some perplexity besides," interrupted Pedro with a knowing smile,
"made you anxious for my company. But tell me without hesitation what
you would have of me, for I would stretch many a point to serve so good
a neighbour."
"Thou sayest so!" exclaimed worthy Sancho, as he rose hastily to his
feet, and with hand resting on the table bent over his companion,
eagerly scanning his countenance. "Thou sayest so, and would hold to
that thou hast said?"
"Ay verily," was the calm answer. "Almost, maybe, to the extent of
putting my limbs in danger of the rack, if they might save thine from
the like peril thereby."
However, in spite of his declaration, Master Pedro was somewhat taken
aback when his companion dropped again into his chair, muttering
thoughtfully:
"Nay then, not quite so bad as that, I hope; not quite so bad as that;
although--" and he raised his voice slightly once more, and raised his
eyes to his friend again as he added--"although I certainly did think
it were prudent to seek your advice in the privacy of my own home,
rather than to proclaim my desires to the ears of the whole town. It is
now three weeks since you accused me of taking an interest in a certain
large-eyed vagrant boy--"
"Ay indeed," with fading interest, "of watching the bundle of rags as a
dog might watch a rat."
"Even so. And when you have watched anything in that way for the space
of months, you end by either loving it, or holding it in abhorrence. I
have ended by loving it. And unfortunately I love where the law hates.
Father and grandfather of that bundle of rags have perished at the
mandate of the Holy Tribunal."
Master Sancho ceased, and bestowed a long, silent stare upon the
glowing logs, while his companion took a long, slow sip of the rich
wine. At last the spice-dealer put down his glass, placed his hands
slowly, outspread, on his knees, and said in slow, muffled tones:
"Friend Sancho, I have some rules for life which I have found good.
One of them is, 'Never give advice.' But this once I will depart from
that rule, and advise thee to rid thy heart of this unlucky love,
and for the future ever to wear thine eyes within thy cloak when yon
lean-cheeks is within sight."
"Umph!" calmly ejaculated the host, still staring into the fire. "I
knew that would be thy first well-meant advice; and, to tell thee the
truth, I reckon that it may be as well for me not to be gazing at the
lad quite so much as I have done of late. It is with that belief that I
have turned to you to help me to get quit of the poor starveling."
At these last unexpected words the guest started, and cast a keen,
swift glance of almost angry wonder upon his entertainer, as he said
hastily:
"Nay, neighbour, what is that thou sayest? I advise thee to have nought
to do with the lad, that is true; but canst thou think, even for thy
safety, that I would aid thee to get rid of the poor fatherless one?"
A smile began to steal over the merchant's broad countenance, as he
replied coolly:
"Ay, verily, and that is what I can and do expect. But not, as you seem
to fear, to the lad's hurt. Here, in our Spain, it is not easy just
now to set him on his feet. But if you will give him some commission
to your son--nay, be calm and hear me out--if you will do that for the
comfort of his mother, I will furnish him clothes and a fair purse, and
trust me, I will also find means some way to smuggle him on board one
of the ships, now fitting out in the southern port of Cadiz to carry
the Commendador to Hispaniola. That is my scheme; many a good hour that
I might have enjoyed in sleep have I bestowed upon it, and now you are
going to aid me to carry it through."
"Never!" exclaimed Master Pedro, excitedly; "never, never! Not for all
the maravedis that ever fell into the coffers of the Holy Office will
I help thee to help one who inherits its suspicions. Dost hear me,
neighbour Sancho?--I say, never!"
"Ay, ay, I hear thee," calmly replied the individual addressed. "I
heard thee say that same 'never' in my dreams two days ago, and
answered thee with 'ever.' Now I hear thee say it actually with thy
lips, and still I answer it with 'ever.' But take another taste of the
wine, friend Pedro; fill thy glass again, if but to see the mingling
of the colours, and draw in thy chair closer to the warmth. No need to
neglect the comforts of the body because thy mind is perturbed."
"Ah!" growled the other. "Thou hast well put into words the doctrine of
thy life, I warrant me."
Master Sancho laughed.
"And if so, neither words nor doctrine, can any say, have served
me shabbily. If it should so fall out in the future that even in
this world I must suffer for my sins, or for other folks' caprices,
nevertheless in the past my face hath had its share of rejoicing in the
sunshine of its own smiles."
"It is in the sunshine of the smiles of others," retorted the
spice-dealer, "that most men would fain be able to rejoice."
"Ay, even so, and that is where most men fall into error," was the calm
reply. "Comfort from the smiles of others is like the fleeting comfort
a sick beggar gets from the glow of another man's fire. A healthy man
has the abiding glow in his own veins, and he carries it about with him
where he goes. Thus is it when the spring of smiles is within thine own
heart, man, and thou art led to accept gratefully blessings as they
fall to thy hand."
The spice-merchant's eyes opened somewhat roundly as he heard this
short philosophical-sounding speech, so very unlike his jovial
neighbour's ordinary conversation, but before he could utter the
sarcastic words of surprise hovering on his tongue, he was recalled to
his recent anxieties by his friend continuing in a more earnest tone:
"And thus, as I like to grasp at the blessings as they come--the
blessings of good fire, good friends, good food; good fun--so I
can even open my hand wide enough to take hold of another sort of
blessings, when they are thrust upon me so plainly that I can but see
they are being offered. Do you mind the text upon which Father Ignatius
preached to us on Christmas Day?"
Master Pedro considered a moment, and shook his head. To say truth,
when that sermon began, his head was occupied with the doubt of whom he
should trust to send with his next consignment of money, glass beads,
and other things, to his son.
"It was appropriate to the occasion," he said at last with a clever
evasion worthy of the Delphic oracle.
But his companion was too much in earnest now to smile. He replied
quietly:
"The text was this: 'Inasmuch as ye did it not unto one of the least
of these, my brethren, ye did it not to me. Depart from me, ye cursed,
into everlasting fire.'"
So sternly solemn was his utterance of those two final words, that
the other was thrilled with it, and moving uneasily on his seat, he
muttered:
"One would think you were talking of the Holy Tribunal itself, to hear
you."
"Only," ejaculated Sancho, "that I am talking of something
infinitely more terrible. The one fire is for five minutes, the
other--everlasting. I prefer the five minutes' one, if it must come
to the choice. But, if you will help me, I think not we shall run
much risk of either. Those who are in danger of their lives over
here, and endanger those who aid them, are perfectly welcome, I have
discovered, to imperil those same lives on their own account in the
other hemisphere, for the glory of our country. And, on this I am
resolved--yon black-eyed rascal shall have his chance with the rest."