At the end of these or a few more days, early one morning, a boy on

the top mast-head cried out, "Land! a reward sirs, a reward; I ask a

reward, and deserve it, too; land! land!" although he might rather have

said, Heaven! Heaven! for we were without a doubt within sight of

Lisbon, the news of which brought tears--tender and joyful tears--into

the eyes of all, but more especially of Ricla, the two Antonios,

and Constance, for it seemed to them as if they had now reached the

promised land that they so much desired to see. Antonio clasped them

in his arms, and cried, "Now you shall learn, my beloved barbarians,

how we serve God, and many other things more fully, although not

differently from what I have taught you. Now you will see the rich

temples in which we worship Him; you will see the Catholic ceremonies

with which we serve Him; and you will see what Christian love is.

Here, love and modesty join hands and walk together; courtesy repels

arrogance, and courage sends cowardice far away: all the inhabitants

are civil, courteous, liberal, and loving. This is the greatest city

in all Europe, and the one that has most trade. In her the riches of

the East are poured out, from her they are scattered over the universe.

Her harbour is capacious, and holds countless navies like forests; the

beauty of her women is everywhere admired; the gallantry of her men is

a wonder to all, and finally, this is the land which pays to Heaven a

holy and abundant tribute."

"Say no more, Antonio," observed Periander, "but leave our eyes

something to discover for ourselves; let something remain for us to see

and admire anew, thus our pleasure will in the end be all the greater

for coming by degrees."

Auristella was delighted to think she should soon set her foot on terra

firma again, without having to go from port to port, isle to isle,

subject to all the inconstancies of wind and weather; and still more

pleased was she, when she heard that she might, if she liked, go on

dry land from hence to Rome, without embarking again.

It was mid-day when they arrived at Sangian, where the ship was to be

registered, and where the governor of the castle, and all who came on

board the ship with him, wondered greatly at the exceeding beauty of

Auristella, the graceful air of Periander, the barbarian attire of

the two Antonios, the comeliness of Ricla, and the agreeable looks of

Constance. They learned that they were foreigners and pilgrims going

to Rome. Periander magnificently rewarded the mariners who had brought

them hither, with some of the gold that Ricla had carried away with

her from the barbarous isle; they had changed some of it into money,

in King Polycarp's dominions. The mariners wished to go to Lisbon, in

order to make some bargains in the way of merchandise.

The governor of Sangian sent the news of the arrival of the strangers,

to the governor of Lisbon; this office was then held by the Archbishop

of Braga, in the absence of the king, who was not in the city at this

time. He told him of the incomparable beauty of Auristella, and added

praises of that of Constance, whose barbarian attire, heightened the

effect of her charms. He even exaggerated the excessive liberality and

gracefulness of Periander, and extolled the behaviour of them all, who

were, he said, much more like courtiers than barbarians.

The ship came up to the town, and they went on shore at Belén, for

Auristella wished to visit the holy monastery first, having heard of

its fame. She desired devoutly to adore there, the only true God,

freely and unembarrassed by the distorted ceremonies of her own land.

Crowds of people came down to the shore to see the strangers disembark

at Belén. They all ran thither full of curiosity to see the novel sight.

The phalanx of beauty had already left Belén; Ricla was only moderately

well looking, but her strange garb became her extremely: Constance

looked charming in her dress of skins; the elder Antonio in his wolf

skin, with bare legs and arms; his son in a similar array, only that

he carried his bow in his hand, and his quiver full of arrows was

hung at his shoulder. Periander was dressed in a green velvet tunic,

and trousers of the same, like a mariner; on his head he wore a high

pointed cap, which could not conceal the bright ringlets of golden hair

which escaped beneath it. Auristella was arrayed in the richest and

most superb attire, according to the fashion of the north, displaying

all that can be imagined most lovely in features, most graceful in

form; altogether they created an immense sensation of wonder and

admiration; but the graces of Periander and Auristella excelled all the

rest.

They went to Lisbon by land, followed by crowds of people of all ranks;

they were taken to the governor, who, after having looked at them with

admiration, was never weary of asking, "Who they were, whence they

came, and whither they were going?" to all which Periander answered,

for he had already got his answer ready prepared for similar questions,

as many such were to be expected; and so, when he liked or when it

seemed advisable to do so, he told his history at length, but always

concealing his parentage, so that he satisfied all questions, giving

them, if not the whole, at least a great part of his history in a few

words.

The viceroy gave orders that they should be lodged in one of the best

suites of apartments in the city, which happened to be in the house of

a great Portuguese nobleman; so many persons flocked thither in order

to look at Auristella and her companions, (the fame of their beauty

having got abroad,) that Periander was of opinion it would be better

for the barbarians to change their dress for that of pilgrims, as he

thought the novelty and strangeness of the garb they wore, was the

chief cause of their being so much followed, and even persecuted by the

vulgar crowd, and the other would be very much to the purpose of their

intended journey to Rome. They all agreed to do as he proposed, and in

two or three days the whole party was curiously pilgrimized.

It happened one day as he was going out of the house, that a Portuguese

fell at Periander's feet: calling him by his name, and embracing

his knees, he cried, "By what good fortune, my lord Periander, do I

see you here? Be not surprised that I call you by your name, for I

am one of the twenty who were set at liberty in the conflagration

of the barbarous isle, where you also was a prisoner. I was present

at the death of Manuel de Souza Coutiño, the Portuguese gentleman;

I partook with you and yours of the shelter of the inn, at the time

when Maurice and Ladislaus arrived in search of Transila, the wife of

one, and daughter of the other; my good fortune brought me home to my

own country, where I told the story of the poor lover's death, to his

relations, and they would have believed me, even if I had not seen it

with my own eyes: it is a not uncommon thing for the Portuguese to

die of love. A brother who inherited his property had his obsequies

performed; and in a chapel belonging to his family he had a tomb of

white marble erected, as if he was buried beneath, and thereon an

epitaph, which I hope you will all come and see, for I think you will

be pleased with it."

Periander knew well by all he said that the man spoke the truth,

although he could not recollect ever having seen his face; however,

they went to the church of which he spoke, and saw the chapel and the

tomb, upon which was engraven in the Portuguese language this epitaph,

which, read by Antonio the father, in Castilian, ran thus:--

To the Memory of the deceased

MANUEL DE SOUZA COUTIÑO,

A PORTUGUESE GENTLEMAN,

Who, had he not been Portuguese, might still be living.

He died, not by any Castilian hand, but

by that of all powerful Love.

PASSENGER,

If you knew the history of his life, you would

think his death a blessing.

Periander thought the Portuguese had good reason to praise the epitaph,

in the composition of which that nation have great skill.

Auristella asked him, how the nun, that the deceased loved, had felt

when she heard of her lover's death. "A few days after she heard of

it," he replied, "she passed into a better world; whether owing to the

austerities of her way of life, or to the news of the unexpected event,

was never known."

They then proceeded to the house of a celebrated painter, where

Periander gave directions to have a very large piece of canvass,

painted with all the different events of his history. On one side there

was to be the Barbarous Isle in flames; near it the Prison Island, and

a little lower, the raft on which he was found by Arnoldo, and brought

into his ship. In another part of the picture was the Snowy Island,

where the enamoured Portuguese died. Then came the ship, which was

perforated by the two soldiers, and near it was depicted the separation

of the skiff and boat. Here was to be the duel between the two rivals

for Taurisa, and their death. There, the hull of the vessel that was

turned upside down, and which was so near being Auristella's tomb, and

that of all who were with her. Then the pleasant isle wherein Periander

had his dream, and saw the two squadrons of virtues and vices; and

close to this the ship, when the sea monster, carried off the two

seamen, and gave them a sepulchre in his belly. Nor was the frozen

sea forgotten, wherein the vessel was imbedded--the assault upon her

from the people who came over the ice,--nor the delivering of them

all to Cratilius: also, there was to be painted, the tremendous leap

of the fiery Courser, which turned him from a lion into a lamb. Then,

in a corner, was a sketch of King Polycarp's Festival, and himself

there, crowned as victor. He was resolved not to pass by one single

incident of importance that had happened up to their arrival in Lisbon,

and their disembarkation in the same dresses they had worn when they

arrived. Also, on the same canvass, was to be seen the fire that burnt

King Polycarp's palace; Clodio transfixed by the dart of young Antonio;

Zenotia hanging; Hermitage Isle, and Rutilio in his holy garments. This

canvass was to be a summary of everything, and was to serve in the

place of a continual repetition of the story, for Antonio the younger

was to explain the pictures and events when any one came to look at

them; but the master-piece of the artist was Auristella's portrait.

They stayed ten days in Lisbon, and spent the time in visiting the

churches, and giving their souls a help to the right road into

salvation; at the end of which time, with the viceroy's permission,

and proper passports, and descriptions of who and what they were, and

whither bound, they took leave of their host, the Portuguese nobleman,

and of the brother of the ill-fated Manuel, from whom they had received

great caresses and kindness, and set forth on the road to Castile. This

departure was performed at night, from a fear of the crowd that would

have followed and impeded them, although the change of dress had done

something towards decreasing the wonder.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER II.

_The Pilgrims begin their Journey through Spain; new and extraordinary

Adventures happen to them._

The tender years of Auristella, the yet tenderer years of Constance,

and the middle age of Ricla, might well have called for all the pomp

and luxury of equipages for so long a journey as the one they were

about to undertake; but the pious devotion of Auristella had made her

vow, that from the moment she arrived on terra firma, she would make

her way to Rome on foot, and the others not willing to be behind her

in devotion, all with one consent, both men and women, were of the

same opinion that the journey should be performed on foot, adding,

if necessary, that they would beg from door to door; therefore they

put by Ricla's wealth, and Periander determined not to dispose of the

diamond cross that Auristella wore, but to keep it, as well as her

invaluable pearls, for a future occasion; all they did was to buy a

baggage mule, to carry what was too heavy for their own shoulders.

They provided themselves with walking sticks, as much for support as

defence; and some small swords; and in this humble and lowly array they

quitted Lisbon, rich only in their beauty and prudence, the fame of

which was the universal subject of discourse; and in every circle and

assembly there, nothing was talked of but the extreme and extraordinary

loveliness and wisdom of the foreign pilgrims.

In this way, travelling between two and three leagues a day, they

arrived at Badajoz, the governor of which had already heard from Lisbon

that the new pilgrims were to come that road. They, upon entering the

city, took up their lodging in a house in which already a company of

comedians had taken their quarters, who were going to rehearse this

very night, a piece they were about to perform in public at the house

of the Corregidor. The moment they saw Auristella and Constance, they

were struck, as all were at first sight, with surprise and admiration;

but the most enchanted of the party was a poet, (Note 6) who came

with the company on purpose to help and patch up and mend old plays,

and also write new ones, an occupation that brought him more work

than profit, and more amusement than honour. However, good poetry is

always like clear water; it improves all unclean things; like the sun

it passes over all impurities without being defiled by them. It is a

gleam of light that shines forth from a dark corner, not burning, but

illuming all it meets with. In fine this poet, whose necessities had

compelled him to exchange Parnassus and the Castalian springs for the

stagnant pools and channels of roads and inns, was the one who was most

struck by Auristella's beauty, and he immediately set her down as good

for the company, and fit to be an actress, without inquiring or knowing

whether she could speak the Castilian language or not. Her form and

figure pleased him; her graceful manner delighted him; he saw her at

once in imagination, apparelled in the short coat of a man; then as

rapidly she appeared to his mind's eye drest as a nymph; but almost in

the same instant he had robed her in all the majesty of a queen. There

was no part grave or gay in which he did not place her; in each he

figured her to himself, serious, lively, prudent, quick, and above all,

virtuous; extremes which seldom are to be found in an actress of low

comedy.

Ye Heavens, with what facility does the poet's imagination disperse a

thousand impossibilities: what grand chimeras does he not build upon

the weakest foundations! He can do anything, all is easy and plain;

hope can support him even when fortune fails. Thus it was with this

our present poet; when he by chance saw the picture in which all the

adventures of Periander were portrayed. He there saw, more than he

had ever conceived in his whole life, and thereupon he felt a strong

desire to write a drama about it, only he was puzzled whether to

make it a tragedy or a comedy, or a tragi-comedy; and if he knew the

middle, he did not know either the beginning or the end. But what

troubled him most was, how he could possibly introduce a _lacquey_[M],

a merry-andrew personage amongst all these islands and seas, fires, and

snows; nevertheless, he did not despair, he would still make the play,

and bring the merry-andrew in, in spite of all the rules of poetry and

the drama; and so fully was he taken up with his idea, that he found

an opportunity to speak to Auristella, and open his intention to her,

consulting her as to what part she would take if she became an actress,

telling her that she would find the theatre a mine of gold, for the

princes of that age were like alchymists, who changed your copper into

gold; that she might have her garments all of cloth of gold, for all

the gentlemen would be at her feet. He represented the pleasure of the

journeys she would make, and how she would carry in her train two or

three young nobles in disguise, who would be her servants as much as

her lovers; and, above all, he extolled up to the very skies the honour

and glory she would have in representing all the first parts, and he

wound up all, by telling her, that if one thing more falsified than

another the old Castilian saying, "That honour and money are seldom

found together," it was in the life of a beautiful actress.

Auristella replied that she had not understood a single word of all he

had been saying, for that she was ignorant of the Castilian language,

as he might plainly see; but when it was explained to her, she said,

her views were very different, and that she had other prospects to look

forward to, if not so agreeable, at least more suited to her taste.

The poet was in despair at this reply, which at once destroyed all the

castles in the air he had been building in his folly and vanity.

They all went that evening to the Corregidor's house, who, having heard

of the arrival of the beautiful pilgrims in the city, sent to invite

them to come and see the play, which was to be performed, and to accept

his best endeavours to be of any service to them, in consequence of all

that he had heard from Lisbon in their praise.

Periander, by the desire of Auristella and the elder Antonio, who he

obeyed as his superior in age, accepted the invitation. There were many

ladies of the city with the wife of the Corregidor, when the fair

pilgrims, with Periander and the two Antonios, entered the room: all

were amazed and confounded at the surprising beauty and grace of the

strangers, which increased the desire of every one to show them all

possible kindness and civility; and their host forced them to take the

highest places at the entertainment, which was the representation of

the fable of Cephalus and Procris, when she, from an undue jealousy,

lost her life by the dart too incautiously thrown by him, to his

eternal sorrow. The verse bordered on perfection, as it was composed,

they say, by Juan de Herrera de Gamboa, nicknamed _El Maganto_, or the

Spiritless, whose genius soared to the highest order of poetry.

When the play was over, the ladies examined the beauties of Auristella

minutely, and each feature separately, and found that they composed a

whole, that might well be named "perfection" without a blot. The men

said as much of Periander, and all agreed in praising highly the beauty

of Constance and her brother.

They stayed in the city three days, during which the Corregidor and

his lady showed every possible kindness to the pilgrims, and loaded

them with gifts. They in return promised to send the history of their

adventures, and of all that should befall them, to their kind friends.

They left Badajoz, and travelled on to our lady of Guadaloupe. After

a journey of three days, in which they had gone five leagues, night

overtook them on a mountain, which was covered with Ilexes, and other

trees: it was that pleasant season of the year when there is an equal

balance between the two equinoxes--neither too hot nor too cold--and

in case of necessity, just as pleasant to spend the night in the open

air as in a village; and therefore being far from any inn, it was

Auristella's desire that it should be passed in one of the sheepfolds

of the herdsmen that they saw were near. They did as she wished,

and had hardly gone above two hundred steps into the wood, when the

darkness came on so fast that they paused to look for the light that

shone from the herdsmen's fold, which served as their polar star, for

fear of losing their way; the extreme darkness, and a sound that was

heard at a distance, made them slacken their pace, and the boy Antonio

began to think of his bow, his constant companion; at this instant a

man on horseback came up to them and said, "Good people, do you belong

to this place?"

"Certainly not," answered Periander, "but to one very far distant; we

are foreign pilgrims, going to Rome, but at present to Guadaloupe."

"If," said he of the horse, "there is charity and courtesy in foreign

lands, there may also be compassionate souls from thence."

"Why not?" said Antonio. "Look you here now, sir, whoever you are; if

you want any help from us, speak, and you will see whether you are

right or not in your conjectures."

"Take then," said the horseman, "take this chain of gold, which

should be worth two hundred crowns; and take also this thing, which

is priceless, at least I cannot name its value, and carry it to the

city of Trujillo, where you will give it to one of two gentlemen, who

are well-known both there and elsewhere: one is called Don Francisco

Pizarro, and the other, Don Juan de Orellana, both bachelors, both

free, both rich, and both extremely generous;" (thus saying, he placed

in Ricla's arms, who, like a compassionate woman, stepped forward

to receive it, a baby, which was beginning to cry, wrapt in clothes

that might have been rich or poor, they could not tell which;) "and,"

continued he, "you will bid them keep it; and say, they shall soon know

who it is, and the misfortunes that have brought it to them, if it

ever comes there, and forgive my saying more, for I am pursued by my

enemies; if they come up with you, and ask if you have seen me, tell

them you have not, since there is no occasion for you to say you have

seen me, or if you prefer it, you may say that three or four men on

horseback have gone by, who went crying, 'For Portugal! for Portugal!'

and now please God, I must not delay, for if fear lend spurs, sharper

yet are those of honour," and so, touching the horse's sides with his,

he vanished like a flash of lightning, not, however, before he had

returned, rapidly exclaiming, "It is unbaptized," and then resumed his

flight.

Behold our pilgrims now, Ricla with the baby in her arms, Periander

with the chain about his neck, and the boy Antonio with his bow ready

strung, his father also holding in readiness the sword which was

concealed in his staff; Auristella confounded and astonished at the

strangeness of the adventure, and altogether wondering at it, and what

would come forth from it.

Auristella advised that they should make haste and find the herdsmen's

fold, as there they might procure food to nourish this new-born infant,

for by its small size and weak cries they guessed it could not be many

hours old. They had hardly reached it, after many wrong turnings,

and many stumbles and falls, when before they could ask whether the

herdsman would give them a shelter for the night, a woman came up

weeping, but not aloud, for she showed by her suppressed moans that

she tried not to let her voice be heard. She was but half dressed,

though the garments she had on, evidently proved her to be a person of

some consequence.

By the light of the fires, in spite of the care with which she tried

to conceal her face, it was plainly seen that she was as beautiful as

she was young, and as young as she was beautiful. Ricla, who was the

best judge of ages, guessed that she might be from sixteen to seventeen

years old. The herdsmen and shepherds asked her if she was pursued, or

if anything had happened to her that required a speedy help; to which

the unhappy girl replied, "The first help I need, sirs, is to be put

under ground, or I had better say that I may be hidden somewhere, so

that no one can find me; the second, that you will give me some food,

for I am well nigh expiring from fatigue and fright."

"We will show that we have charity," said an old shepherd; and he went

quickly towards the hollow trunk of a tree--the ruin of a once noble

oak--and placing within it some snowy fleeces of sheep and goats, he

made a sort of bed, good enough for the present necessity; then taking

the young lady in his arms, he hid her in the old tree, and then

brought her some milk; (he would have given her wine had she wished

it;) then he covered her up closely with more sheep-skins, and hung

them also about the tree, as if to dry them.

Ricla, who watched all this, speedily conjectured that this must be

the mother of the baby that she held in her arms. She went up to the

old shepherd, saying, "Let not your charity, good sir, stop here,

but extend it to this infant, which is perishing of hunger;" and she

quickly explained how they had come by it. Answering more to her wants

than words, the old shepherd called to one of the other shepherds, and

bid him take the child to the sheep-fold, and put it by one of the

goats in such a manner as to enable it to suck: he had hardly done

this, and hardly had the last wailing cry of the baby ceased, when

a troop of horsemen rode up to the fold, and asked if they had seen

anything of a fugitive young woman, or of a man on horseback. But as

no one gave them any intelligence of what they demanded, they passed

on with extreme speed, which not a little rejoiced the charitable

protectors of the woman and child; and the night passed away more

quietly than the pilgrims expected, and more merrily to the herdsmen

and shepherds, who had not looked for so much good company.

FOOTNOTES:

[M] The Gracioso of the Spanish Comedy.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER III.

_The Damsel in the Tree gives an account of herself._

Very much did they all wish to know what causes had brought the unhappy

fugitive lady into such a plight; and also the forsaken infant; but

Auristella thought it would be better not to ask any questions till the

next day, because after a great fright, nobody feels much inclined to

talk even of some pleasant event, far less of a sad one, and though the

old shepherd often visited the tree, he asked its tenant no questions,

except about her health, to which she replied, "That although she had

every reason to be ill, she felt easy, because she had escaped from

those who pursued her, who were her father and brother." The shepherd

covered her up again, and returned to the pilgrims.

Before they allowed themselves to seek in sleep a little repose after

their fatigue, they settled with the shepherd that he, who had found

a nurse for the babe already among the she goats, should carry it to

the house of a sister of the aged shepherd's, which was about two

leagues off, in a small village. They gave him the gold chain to take

with it, and desired that it might be nursed secretly, saying that

it came from a distant place. This was done, hoping by these means to

elude suspicion, if by chance any one should return hither in search

of the lost one. After settling these matters and satisfying their

hunger, they suffered sleep to close their eyes and wrap their senses

in forgetfulness. So passed the night, and day dawned brightly upon

all, unless it were for the terrified creature in the old tree, who

scarcely ventured to look out upon the sun's clear rays. Nevertheless,

having first, far and near, placed sentinels at different intervals to

give warning if anybody approached, they persuaded her to come out of

her hiding-place, and breathe the fresh air, hoping to hear something

from her; and now, in the full light of day, they saw that she was very

lovely, so much so, that it was a doubt whether to give the second

place to her or to Constance: Auristella, of course, came first, for

nothing in nature could ever be found to equal her. They prayed her

much to tell them the cause of her distress, and she, willing to

gratify their desire, after asking them to excuse her weakness, in a

feeble voice thus began:--

"Although, sirs, I shall be forced to reveal such faults in making

you acquainted with my history, as will, perhaps, cause me to lose

your good opinion, yet I would rather by obeying show my gratitude

than seem unwilling to please you. I am called Feliciana of the

voice; my home is in a town not far hence; my parents more noble than

rich, and my beauty, although now faded, has been esteemed great by

some people. Near the town where I lived, there lived also a rich

gentleman, whose conduct and many virtues made him greatly esteemed and

respected. He has a son, who bids fair to be the heir of his father's

virtues, as well as of his wealth, which is very great. In the same

village there lived another gentleman, who also had a son, more well

born than rich, but possessed of a sufficient mediocrity, so as to

be neither too humble nor too proud. My father and my two brothers

wished me to marry this second young gentleman, turning a deaf ear to

the entreaties of the rich neighbour, who asked me for a wife; but I

unhappily gave myself away to him secretly, and without the knowledge

of my relations. I have no mother, to my sorrow; we frequently saw each

other in private, for opportunity is rarely wanting in such cases.

From these secret interviews arose my shame, if it be shame, for two

espoused lovers thus to meet; and at this juncture, unknown to me, my

father and brothers agreed to carry into effect my marriage with the

young gentleman of their choice; and so bent were they upon having it

accomplished, that one night they brought him to our house, accompanied

by two of his own near relations, purposing that the ceremony should

take place directly. I was much surprised when I saw Louis Antonio,

for that is the name of the young nobleman, and still more, when my

father desired me to go into my own apartment and adorn myself with

more than ordinary care, because I was to give my hand in marriage to

Louis Antonio this very moment. Now I was far advanced in pregnancy,

and the time was nearly at hand which nature assigns for bringing

forth a child. I felt as if I had received my death-blow at this most

unlooked-for command, and saying that I would go and dress myself, I

hurried into my own room, where throwing myself into the arms of my

maid, who was the confidante of my secret, I cried, whilst my eyes were

like fountains, 'Alas, my Leonora, I verily believe my last hour is

come; Louis Antonio is waiting for me in the antechamber, to receive

my hand in marriage. What condition can an unhappy woman be in, more

utterly deplorable than this? Have you no weapon with which to pierce

my heart before I die of shame? alas, my friend, I am dying, my life is

departing;' and then uttering a deep sigh, I brought into the world an

infant, which sight so took us both by surprise, that all I expected

was, that my father or my brothers should come in, and, instead of

leading me to my bridal, should carry me to my grave.

"Can you, sirs, conceive a more terrible situation than I was in this

night--my intended husband expecting me in the parlour below, whilst

his rival was waiting in the garden to speak with me, ignorant of

the strait I was in, and of the arrival of Louis Antonio;--I, nearly

senseless at the unexpected event; my maid greatly troubled with the

infant in her arms; my father and brothers sending word to me to make

haste, and come to these unhappy nuptials.

"It was enough to upset stronger minds than mine: I know not that I

can tell you more than, that whilst I lay almost senseless, I heard my

father say, as he entered my room, 'Come girl, finish your adornments,

or come as you are, and your beauty shall supply the place of rich

attire.' At this instant, I imagine, the cry of the child reached his

ears, which my maiden had contrived to conceal, or was giving it to

Rosanio, the name of him whom I had chosen for my husband. My father

was disturbed, and, with a candle in his hand, came to look at my

countenance, and perceived my state of dismay and confusion; the sound

of the infant's cry seemed again to strike his ears, and drawing his

sword, he hastened to the quarter whence the voice had proceeded. The

sight of the naked weapon, and the terror that filled my soul, made

me, with the natural instinct that prompts one to save one's life,

endeavour to find a means of doing so; and, hardly had my father turned

his back, when, just as I was, I hastened down a winding staircase

to the lower apartments of the house, thence with ease I gained the

street, and from the street, the fields, and then by roads, I know

not where, I ran, impelled by fear, as if I had wings to my feet,

faster than you could suppose my feeble strength would have allowed. A

thousand times I felt a wish to throw myself into some river or pond,

and end my life; and sometimes I felt as if I could lie down on the

earth, and let any one find me who chose; but at last seeing the light

from your huts, I tried to reach them, in hopes of finding some help

and shelter for my misery, and so it happened as you saw, and so it is

that I am now alive, thanks to your kindness and charity."

Thus the unhappy Feliciana ended her relation, which filled her

hearers with surprise and pity. Periander then described the finding

of the baby, the gift of the chain, and all that had happened with the

gentleman on horseback, who gave them.

"Alas!" said Feliciana, "if this precious gift should indeed be mine,

and if it should be Rosanio who brought it! perhaps, if I could see

it, if not by its features, which I never looked upon, still, by the

clothes in which it is wrapped, I might recognize it, for my maid

could only have taken things that were in my room to wrap it in, which

I should know again, and even if I should not, perhaps the force of

nature would do its work, and a secret feeling speak to me, if it is

mine."

The old shepherd said, "The child is in our village with my sister, and

a niece of mine; I will send and tell them to bring it here, and then,

beautiful lady, you can try the experiment you desire. In the meantime,

calm your spirits, and I and my fellow shepherds, and this old tree,

shall serve as clouds in which to keep you hidden from the eyes of

those who seek you."

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IV.

"It seems to me, my brother," said Auristella to Periander, "that

troubles and perils are to be met with not only on the sea, but all

over the earth; and that misfortunes and distresses are to be found

among those who are set up high on the mountains, as well as amongst

people who are hiding in corners. That which is called fortune, of

which I have frequently heard, and of which it is said that it gives

and takes away good things, when and how it pleases, ought indeed to

be represented as blind and capricious, since it raises those who have

grovelled upon the earth, and puts down others who have aspired to high

places. This lady, who says she is called Feliciana of the voice, and

now she has hardly voice enough left to relate the story of her own

misfortunes;--think of her but a few hours ago, in her own home with

her father, brothers, and servants, hoping to find some help or remedy

for her imprudent conduct; and now, behold her, hiding in the hollow

of a tree, fearing the insects of the air, and the crawling worm of

the earth. It is true she has not sprung from a princely race, but yet

hers is an example for all young maidens who live secluded from the

world, and wish to live a virtuous life: all this moves me to entreat

that you, O my brother, will watch severely over my conduct, for ever

since the hour in which I left your mother and home, I have placed my

honour in your hands, and although experience has proved well your

virtue, alike in the solitude of deserts, or the company of cities; yet

still I fear that as days move on, so also may change come across your

thoughts. My honour is yours, one sole wish rules us both, and the same

hope supports us: our path is a long and weary one, but there is an end

to everything, unless idleness and laziness intrude; Heaven has already

brought us into Spain, and (for which we should be grateful) released

us from the dangerous company of Arnoldo."

"O my sister," answered Periander, "how dost thou prove every moment

the greatness of thy wisdom and prudence! I plainly see thou fearest

as a woman, and feelest as a discreet and prudent one; gladly would I

do anything to calm thy new-born suspicions. We have no occasion to

stay longer in this shepherd's fold, and as to Feliciana, we can do no

more than bestow upon her our pity; but we should carry the child to

Truxillo, as we were charged to do by him who gave us the chain, as it

seemed, for payment."

They were still talking together when the old shepherd came up to them,

with his sister and the infant which had been sent for, to see whether

Feliciana would recognize it, as she had requested.

She took it in her arms, and looked at it again and again, removed its

swaddling clothes, but there was nothing by which she could be certain

it was the child she had brought into the world; nor yet, which was

remarkable, did she experience the yearnings of a mother towards the

child, which was a boy. "No," said she, "these are not the cloaks that

my maid wrapt it in, nor did I ever see this chain in Rosanio's hands.

This precious creature must belong to some one else. Too fortunate

should I be, if I could think it mine. Although I have heard Rosanio

speak of having friends in Truxillo, yet I cannot remember their names."

"After all," said the shepherd, "since the person who gave the child

to the pilgrims, desired that it might be taken to Truxillo, I suspect

that it _was_ Rosanio; and it is my opinion that it will be best for

my sister and some of our shepherds to carry the child thither, and

see whether either of the gentlemen, whose names were mentioned, will

receive it."

Feliciana only answered by her sobs, and throwing herself at the feet

of the old man she embraced him warmly,--signs that she much approved

of the proceeding he had advised; and the pilgrims also approved of it,

and made all easy by giving the chain of gold to them. The shepherd's

sister was provided with one of the mules belonging to the fold, (she

having only recently recovered from a lying-in,) and she had directions

given her, to pass through her own village and leave her own baby in

concealment, whilst she went with the other to Truxillo.

It was all to be done directly, because the urgency of the case

admitted of no delay. In silent gratitude, Feliciana showed how much

she felt the kindness of those who were thus active in her service; and

having heard how these pilgrims were bound for Rome, charmed by the

beauty and prudence of Auristella, the courteous manners of Periander,

the loving and affectionate ways of Constance and her mother, and

the agreeable behaviour of the two Antonios, after weighing it in her

mind, and pondering thereon in the short space of time that they were

together, she felt that it would be desirable to quit a place where her

disgrace must be public, and entreated that they would allow her to go

with them as a pilgrim to Rome--that, as she had wandered from the ways

of virtue, she would gladly now be a wanderer in search of grace, if

she might be allowed to join their company.

Scarcely had she uttered her desire, than Auristella hastened to grant

it, being full of pity and anxiety to relieve her from the terror and

alarm she was enduring. The only difficulty that remained was--how

could she, who had so lately been delivered of a child, undertake a

journey? But the old shepherd said, that there was no real difference

between the bringing forth of a woman and that of a cow,--that the

cow immediately after her delivery is exposed to the inclemency of

the weather; and thus the woman might perfectly well return to her

usual habits of exercise, if custom had not taught them to use the

luxurious precautions and repose that are common with lying-in women.

"I am sure," said he, "that when Eve brought forth her first-born

son, she neither kept her bed, nor secluded herself from the air,

nor took any of the precautions that women adopt in these days. Take

courage, lady Feliciana, and follow up your intentions, which are both

holy and Christian-like;" to which Auristella added, "You shall not

want a pilgrim's dress, for I had two made, upon setting out on this

pilgrimage, and one of them shall be given to the lady Feliciana of the

voice, on condition that she tells me the reason why she is so called,

unless it is really her true name."

"It was not mine by lineage, but simply because every one who knew

me and heard me sing, declared that I had the finest voice that ever

was heard, so I was generally called Feliciana of the voice; and I

would readily give you proof of this if I was not more in a mood for

crying than singing: however, if better times come, and my tears cease

to flow, I will sing, if not merry songs, at least dirges and doleful

ditties."

Now after Feliciana had spoken thus, they were all seized with a strong

desire to hear her sing immediately, but no one ventured to ask it of

her, because, as she had said, it was not the proper time. The next

day Feliciana took off all her attire, except what was absolutely

necessary, and put on the pilgrim's dress, which was given her by

Auristella. She took off a pearl necklace and two rings, which, if

ornaments betokened a person's quality, would at once have proclaimed

her rich and high-born. They were taken into the care of Ricla, as

treasurer of the property of everybody; and Feliciana took her place

as second among the pilgrims, Auristella being first, and Constance

third; although upon this point, opinions were divided, and there were

some who gave the second place to Constance, Auristella alone stood

unrivalled.

As soon as Feliciana was dressed in her new garb, she felt eager and

anxious to be off: Auristella knew this, and by general consent,

they took leave of the hospitable old shepherd, and the rest of the

herdsmen, and departed, taking the road to Cáceres. When at any time

any one of the women became weary, the baggage mule afforded her a

means of rest, or they sat down by the side of some murmuring stream,

or sparkling fountain, or the verdure of some pleasant meadow invited

them to repose.

And so they journeyed on, being weary and resting alternately; but as

it rarely happens that good intentions are carried into effect without

any hindrances, it pleased Heaven that this charming party (one in

intention, although many in number) should meet with the obstacle of

which you shall now hear.

The green herbage of a delightful meadow had offered a pleasant retreat

to the travellers: the clear and sweet waters of a little rivulet that

trickled through the grass, had refreshed their faces; a number of

thorns and brambles formed a wall, and shelter all round them. It was

an agreeable spot to rest in, when all of a sudden, breaking through

the thick and tangled branches, a youth, in the dress of a traveller,

rushed in among them; his back was pierced through with a sword, and

the point came out at his breast. He fell down before them, and as

he fell, exclaimed, "God be with me;" and so saying, he expired. It

happened all in one moment; and although at so strange a sight, every

one had risen in confusion, Periander was the first to fly to his

assistance, and seeing that he was quite dead, he tried to draw out the

sword. The two Antonios leaped over the bushes to look if any one was

to be seen who could have committed this treacherous and cruel murder,

for it was clearly a traitor's deed, seeing that the blow had been

dealt from behind, but they saw nobody. They returned to the rest, and

the great youth and noble appearance of the murdered stranger increased

the pity they felt for his death. They examined the body minutely, and

found, under a loose jacket of grey velvet, over the doublet, a chain

of four links of gold, from which was suspended a crucifix, also of

gold; and between the doublet and the shirt, they found, in an ebony

case richly worked, the portrait of a very beautiful woman, round which

were these lines:--

She freezes, she burns,

She looks and speaks,

O miracle of beauty!

Such power your face possesses

Even in a picture.

Periander, who first read these lines, judged thereby that some love

affair had caused his death: they carefully investigated his dress,

hoping to find some indication by which to discover who he was, but

could find none; and whilst they were making this scrutiny, four men

appeared suddenly, armed with cross bows, who were instantly recognised

by Antonio the elder, as members of the holy Brotherhood; one of

whom cried out, "Stop, thieves! murderers! highwaymen! your work of

spoliation, which we are just come in time to punish as it deserves."

"Rogues, there are none here," said the younger Antonio, "nor are we

robbers, but enemies of all such persons."

"Truly, so it appears," replied the archer, "with a dead corpse before

you; his property in your hands, and his blood upon your clothes;

witnesses of your crime, robbers ye are, and murderers, and as such

shall be punished; nor shall that pilgrim garb which you have put on to

conceal your misdeeds, avail you anything."

To this, the young Antonio replied by fitting an arrow to his bow,

and aiming at the arm of the archer; the others seeing this, either

alarmed or in order to make the capture more secure, turned round

hastily, and called lustily for help. "Help for the holy Brotherhood!"

In an instant, as if by miracle, they were joined by more than

twenty archers, who, aiming their arrows at the party, took them all

prisoners, without respect even for the beauty of Auristella; and

carrying the dead body along with them, brought the party to Cáceres,

the Corregidor of which was a knight of the order of St. Jago, who, on

seeing the dead body, and the wounded archer, and hearing the account

given by the others with the additional proof of Periander's bloody

appearance, was immediately disposed to put them all to the torture;

but Periander declared the true state of the case, showing, in proof

of his assertions, the papers and passports that he had brought from

Lisbon, by way of security on his journey. He also showed the picture

of his adventures, which were well described by the younger Antonio;

and all these proofs were sufficient to have shown clearly the

innocence of the pilgrims.

Ricla, the treasurer of the party, who knew little or nothing of what

lawyers and notaries are, offered one of them a quantity of money

secretly, to take their case up for them; but she was in danger of

losing all she had, for the gentlemen of the law smelling out that

the pilgrims had money, would gladly have shorn them close, according

to their usual fashion, even to the very bones; and without a doubt,

would have done so, if it had not pleased Heaven to let the might of

innocence overthrow the attempts of malice. It happened that a certain

innkeeper of the place, having seen the dead corpse that had been

brought with the pilgrims, recognized it, and went to the Corregidor,

and said to him, "My lord, this man who has been brought in dead by

the holy Brotherhood, left my house yesterday morning, in company with

another person, who seemed to be a gentleman. A little before he went

away, he shut himself up in a room with me, and with great caution he

said, 'Mine host, I pray you as a good Christian, if I do not return

hither within six days, to open this paper which I give you, before

the court of Justice:' so saying, he gave me this paper, which I

now deliver to your worship, conceiving that it may probably explain

something that will touch upon this strange affair." The Corregidor

took the paper, and opening it, he found the following words written

therein:--

"I, Don Diego de Parraces, left the palace of his majesty on such a

day, (and here the date was given,) in company with my relation, Don

Sebastián de Soranzo, who asked me to go a certain journey along with

him, which concerned both his honour and his life. I, not wishing to

confirm some false suspicions which he harboured respecting me, and

trusting in my innocence, consented to accompany him: it is my belief

that he means to kill me; if this should happen, and my body is found,

let it be known that I am slain by perfidious hands, and that I die

guiltless.

(Signed) DON DIEGO DE PARRACES."

The Corregidor sent off this letter with all speed to Madrid, where

the greatest diligence was exerted to trace out the murderer; but he

arrived at home the very day when the search was made, and, discovering

how matters were, instead of alighting, he gave his horse the rein, and

disappeared altogether. Thus the crime remained unpunished: the dead

man was not to be restored to life; the prisoners were set free, and

some of the links of the chain that Ricla kept, were employed to pay

the expenses of justice. The Corregidor kept the portrait to please

himself. The archer of the holy Brotherhood received ample satisfaction

for his wound.

The younger Antonio began anew to describe the story of their picture,

and left the people all wondering greatly thereat.

The whole time the investigation had been going on, Feliciana kept

her bed under pretence of illness, that she might not be seen. They

took the road to Guadaloupe, talking, as they travelled, over their

strange adventure, and hoping that some chance might occur to allow

them to hear Feliciana sing. She willingly consented to give them this

pleasure, since there is no sorrow that does not soften with time, only

that she might keep up the proper decorum due to her misfortune and sad

condition: her songs were dirges, and her voice, mournful; but this

diminished a good deal after meeting the shepherd's sister on the road,

returning from Truxillo, where she told them she had left the infant

in the care of Don Francisco Pizarro, and Don Juan de Orellana, who

felt convinced that the child must belong to their friend Don Rosanio,

judging by the place where he was met, for they knew of no one else

in all the neighbourhood who would have so confided in them; "and,"

said the good woman, "they told me that he should not be deceived in

his expectations by trusting them thus. So you perceive, sirs, that

the child is placed according to your desires at Truxillo: if there is

anything else you wish me to do to serve you here, I am ready to do it,

and here is the chain, for I have not parted with it yet, since what

I have done was from Christian kindness, and that weighs more heavily

with me than gold." To which Feliciana answered, that she wished it

might remain many years in her possession before she found herself

under the necessity of parting with it, for rich trinkets do not stay

long with the poor. The shepherd's sister then took leave of them,

and they sent a thousand kind messages to her brother and the other

shepherds. In process of time, little by little our pilgrims reached

the saintly walls of Guadaloupe.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER V.

Scarcely had our devout pilgrims set foot on one of the two entrances

that lead to the valley, which is formed and enclosed by the lofty

mountains of Guadaloupe, than at each fresh step they found new

subjects of admiration; but their admiration reached the highest

possible point when they saw the noble and sumptuous monastery, the

walls of which contain the blessed image of the Queen of Heaven; that

blessed image, which gives freedom to the captive, cleanses his sins,

and relieves his distress; that blessed image, which gives health to

the sick, comfort to the afflicted, which is a mother to the orphan,

and a defence from all misfortune. They entered the church, and where

they expected to find walls adorned with the Tyrian purple, the damask

of Syria, the brocades of Milan, in their place they saw, crutches left

by the cripple, wax eyes that had belonged to the blind, arms hung

there by the maimed, shrouds cast aside by the dead, all, who after

having been cast down by misery, now living, healthy, free and happy,

loudly return thanks to the Mother of mercies, who in this small space,

makes intercession with her blessed Son for his infinite mercy.

So strong an impression was made upon the hearts of the devout pilgrims

by all these miracles, that they gazed around them, fancying that they

saw in the air the captive in his chains, coming to hang them up on

the holy walls. The lame and infirm trailing their crutches along with

them, the dead corpse its winding-sheet, seeking where to place them,

and not finding space left, so great was the number those walls already

held.

This sight, which had never been seen before by Periander, Auristella,

Ricla, Constance, or the young Antonio, filled them with awe and

wonder; and they were never tired of gazing, nor of admiring; so with

devout and humble minds they knelt down to adore the Saviour, and

implore the intercession of his holy Mother. But what most deserved

notice was, that Feliciana, on bended knees, and with clasped hands,

pressed to her breast, whilst tears of tender sorrow bathed her cheeks,

almost without appearing to move her lips, or make any sign of being a

living creature, raised her voice, and sang some verses which she knew

by heart, and which afterwards she gave them in writing. Her sweet and

most melodious singing enchanted the senses of all her hearers, and

well proved that she had not praised her own voice too highly, fully

satisfying the strong wish of all the pilgrims to hear her.

She had sung about four stanzas, when some strangers entered the

church, who knelt down, as they were induced to do both by custom and

devotion. They were also struck by the voice of Feliciana, who went

on singing; and one among them, who seemed rather advanced in years,

turning to the person nearest him, said, "Either that is the voice

of some angel in Heaven, or it is that of my daughter Feliciana."

"Who can doubt it?" replied the other. "There she is, but there she

shall not be long, if my arm can strike a sure blow;" so saying, he

grasped his poignard, and with hurried steps, white with passion, he

was approaching the spot where Feliciana knelt. The venerable old man

followed, and drawing him back hastily, said, "This is no place, my

son, for punishment. Take time, for now this traitress cannot escape

from us, and do not, in seeking to chastise the fault of another, bring

down a judgment upon thine own head."

These words, and the disturbance altogether, had stopped the mouth

of Feliciana, and put the pilgrims into some consternation, and also

every one else in the church. They were not able to prevent the father

and brother of Feliciana from dragging her out of the church into the

street, where they were very soon joined by a crowd of people, with

the officers of justice, who released her from the grasp of those who

seemed more like executioners than father or brother.

Things being in this confusion, the father demanding his daughter,

and the brother his sister, whilst the magistrate refused to give

her up to them until he could learn the state of the case, a little

party of horsemen entered on one side of the open place, two of whom

were immediately recognised by most of the persons present, as Don

Francisco Pizarro, and Don Juan de Orellana. They came up to the spot

where the tumult was, and another gentleman with them, whose face was

covered with a veil of black taffeta, and inquired the cause of all

this disturbance. They were told that nobody knew what was the matter,

except that the officers of justice were defending a pilgrim, whom two

men, calling themselves her father and brother, wanted to kill. Don

Francisco and Don Juan were listening to this account, when the muffled

cavalier, leaping from his horse, drew his sword, and uncovering his

face, placed himself at Feliciana's side, and cried aloud, "It is from

me, sirs, that you must take the satisfaction that you desire for

Feliciana's fault, if it be a fault that deserves death for a lady to

marry against her parents' consent. Feliciana is my wife, and I am

Rosanio, as you see, not so humble in condition as to be undeserving

that you should give me openly that which I chose secretly. I am of

noble birth, of which I can show you the proofs: I am rich enough

to support her as my wife; I do not think it right that what I have

gained by good fortune should be taken from me by Louis Antonio, at

your pleasure; and if you think I have offended you by that which I

have done without your consent, pardon the fault, which was caused by

the all-powerful force of love, and the finding you already so well

inclined towards Louis Antonio, which made me forget the duty I owed

you, for which once more I entreat your pardon."

Whilst he spoke thus, he held Feliciana clasped close round the waist,

all trembling and full of terror, but still all beautiful. Before

her father or brother could speak a word, Don Francisco embraced the

former, and Don Juan the latter, who were their intimate friends. Don

Francisco said to the father, "Where is your prudence gone, Senor Don

Pedro Tenorio? Is it possible that you desire to do what is so much

against your own interests? Do not you see that this offence brings

its own excuse along with it? What is there in Rosanio undeserving of

Feliciana, or what will become of her in future if she loses Rosanio?"

The same or similar arguments were used by Don Juan with the brother,

adding more, for he said, "Don Sancho, passion never ends well, and an

angry spirit rarely hits correctly: your sister chose a good husband

for herself; you would do ill to take vengeance, because they failed in

the proper ceremony and respect that was due to you.

"Look you, Don Sancho, I have in my house at home, a nephew of yours

you cannot disown, unless you disown yourself, he is so like you."

The answer of the father was to go to his son and take away the

poignard from his hands, after which he embraced Rosanio, who fell

at the feet of his father-in-law and embraced them a thousand times.

Feliciana also fell on her knees, half fainting, at her father's feet,

amid a flood of tears and sighs.

The bystanders were delighted; the father got credit for his conduct:

the son also, and the two friends, for their prudent advice. The

Corregidor invited them all to his house; the prior of the monastery

showed them great hospitality; the pilgrims visited all the relics,

which are very numerous, holy, and rich. They confessed themselves,

received the Sacrament, and during the time they stayed, Don Francisco

sent for the child, which the shepherd's sister had brought him, and

which was the same that Rosanio delivered to Periander. It was so

lovely, that the grandfather, when he saw it, forgetting all his cause

for anger, exclaimed, "A blessing on the mother who bore thee, and

on thy father also;" and taking it into his arms, he covered it with

kisses and tears.

Feliciana, with her father, brother, and husband, returned home, taking

the child with them, all well pleased with the happy conclusion of the

business.

The pilgrims stayed four days at Guadaloupe, during which they began

seeing the monastery. I say they began to see it, because, to come to

the end of seeing its many wonders, would be impossible. They next went

to Truxillo, where they met with a most friendly reception from the two

noble gentlemen, Don Francisco Pizarro and Don Juan de Orellana. There,

the story of Feliciana was again discussed, and her voice and conduct

met with due praise, as well as the kind behaviour of her father and

brother. From Truxillo they went, after about two days' stay, to

Talavera, where they found preparations making to celebrate the great

feast of the world, whose origin began many years before the birth of

Christ, and which Christians have brought to so good a conclusion, that

what the Heathens did in honour of the goddess Venus, is now devoted

to celebrate the praise of the blessed Virgin. They would much have

liked to see this, but not wishing for any delay, they went on without

satisfying their desire.

* * * * *

(Note.) There are here three Chapters omitted, Chap. 6, 7, and 8, in

order to shorten the Story a little, and not possessing much interest

or merit.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER IX.

The spirits of Antonio rose when he breathed again his native air.

Ricla and her two children rejoiced to think that they soon should

see,--she, her father and mother-in-law, and they, their grand-parents,

for Antonio had discovered that they were yet living, in spite of the

grief that his absence had given them. He also heard that his adversary

had inherited his father's estate, and that he had died in amity

with his (Antonio's) father, because it had been proved, from many

circumstances, that what Antonio did was not an affront, because they

were words spoken in the heat of a quarrel, and with drawn swords, and

that the glitter of steel takes away the strength of words, and such

words as are spoken with the sword drawn are not affronts, though they

may be aggravating: so he who wishes to avenge himself for them, has

only to chastise an offence, and not to satisfy himself for an affront

as happened in this case. Let us suppose that I mention a fact which

is as clear as the day; I am answered that it is an error, that I lie,

and shall lie every time I repeat the said fact; and this is supported

moreover by the person who utters it clapping his hand on the hilt

of his sword, by way of maintaining his assertion. I, who am thus

given the lie, have no need to return to the fact I mentioned, which

cannot be denied, but I am obliged to chastise the person who gave me

the lie for his want of respect; else he who has had the lie direct

given to him, could not meet any one in the field till he has received

satisfaction: as I before said, there is a great difference between

an affront and an injury; in short, I say that Antonio knew that his

father and his former enemy were friends, and that since they were so,

they must have considered all the circumstances of his case thoroughly.

Pleased and contented with this good news, he set off again on his

journey with his companions, to whom he told all he had heard of his

affairs, and that a brother of the man he had considered his enemy,

had inherited the estates, and was living on the same friendly terms

with his father as his deceased brother had done. It was Antonio's wish

that none of them should do anything but as he ordered, as he intended

to make them known to his father, not suddenly, but in some circuitous

way, so as to increase the pleasure of the discovery, for sometimes too

sudden a joy will kill like a sudden grief.

About three days' more travel brought them at dusk to his father's

house. The father and mother were sitting at the door of their house,

enjoying the freshness of the evening air, for it was the summer

season. They all approached together, and Antonio spoke first to his

father. "Is there by chance in this place a hospital for pilgrims,

sir?" he asked. "As our inhabitants are good Christians," replied the

father, "every house is an hospital for pilgrims, and if no other

should be so, mine, as far as it goes, may serve for you all."

"Is not this place called Quintanas de la Orden, sir," asked Antonio;

"and does not a person live here called by some a gentleman of the name

of Villaseñores? I ask you this, because I knew a man of this name in

far distant countries, and if he was here, neither I nor my companions

need go anywhere for a lodging."

"And what was the name of this Villaseñores of whom you speak?" asked

the mother.

"He was called Antonio," replied Antonio, "and his father's name was,

if I remember right, Diego de Villaseñor."

"Ah, sir!" cried the mother, rising from her seat, "and to my sorrow

it is now seventeen years that he has been missing from his native

land. How many tears, sighs, and prayers, have been exhausted for his

restoration to me; would to God that these eyes may ever again behold

him, before they are closed in eternal night. Tell me, is it long since

you saw him? is it long since you left him? was he in good health? did

he talk of returning home? does he remember his parents, to whom he may

now come back, for he has no enemies to hinder his doing so. Those who

caused his departure from his own country, are now friends."

The old father listened to all these words, and then called aloud

to his servants to bring lights, and to admit into the house the

pilgrim guests, and going up to his as yet unknown son, he embraced

him closely, saying, "For your sake alone I would gladly give you all

lodging, even though it were not my custom to receive pilgrims, but now

this glad tidings that you have brought increases my inclination to do

so, and makes me doubly desirous to serve you."

By this time the servants had brought lights, and shown the pilgrims

into the house; and from the middle of a spacious court, which they

entered, came forth two pretty and well-mannered young girls, sisters

of Antonio, who had both been born since he went away. They were

charmed with the beauty of Auristella, and the loveliness of Constance,

their niece, also with the pleasant looks of their sister-in-law,

Ricla. They could not sufficiently load them with blessings and

embraces; but when they expected to see their father enter with the

new guests, they saw a confused crowd of people come in also, bringing

on their shoulders, upon a seat, a seemingly dead man, whom they knew

at once to be the count, who had inherited the estates of him who

once had been their brother's enemy. The tumult of the crowd, the

confusion that their parents were in, and the care of receiving their

new guests embarrassed them so much that they knew not whom to turn to,

nor whom to ask for the cause of all this disturbance. Their parents

had the count brought in; he was shot through the shoulders with a

ball in an affray between two parties of soldiers, who were lodged in

the town, and the townspeople; the ball had passed through into his

breast, and on seeing himself wounded, he had ordered his servants

to carry him to the house of Diego de Villaseñor, his friend, and

he was brought thither exactly at the very moment when he was about

to offer hospitality to his son, his daughter-in-law, and his two

grand-children, and to Periander and Auristella. She, taking Antonio's

sisters by the hand, prayed that they would take her away from all the

tumult, and allow her to rest in some apartment where she might be

alone. They did as she desired, not without again admiring her peerless

beauty.

Constance, who felt the force of kindred blood animate her heart,

neither wished nor would separate from her aunts, who were both of

the same age, and of equal beauty. The same feelings actuated the

boy Antonio, who, forgetful of all the laws of good breeding and the

obligations he owed to his hosts, was so bold in his delight as to

embrace one of his aunts, which a servant of the family seeing, said,

"For your life, sir pilgrim, keep your hands quiet, for the master of

this house is not a man to be trifled with, and you will have to beat a

retreat in spite of your shameless behaviour."

"By Heaven, my friend," answered the boy, "this that I have done is

very little to what I intend doing, if Heaven favours my wish, which is

to be at the service of these fair ladies, and all those of the house."

Meanwhile the wounded man had been placed in a rich bed, and two

surgeons called in, who staunched the blood and examined the wound,

which they pronounced mortal, and beyond all human remedies. The

whole town was in arms against the soldiers, who had marched out

into the country in battle array, ready to fight if the people came

out to attack them. For some time, little availed the anxiety of the

commanding officers to restore peace, nor the Christian cares of the

priests and monks of the town, the people of which, a light cause will

easily excite and rouse into commotion. However, day came, and the

soldiers were made to march off by their officers, and the townspeople

were persuaded to remain within the town, in spite of the bad feeling

and anger the soldiers had excited.

By slow degrees, little by little, Antonio discovered himself to

his parents, and presented to them their two grand-children and

daughter-in-law, whom they received with many tears. The beauty of

Auristella, and the grace of Periander, gained admiration from all

eyes and hearts. This pleasure, as unexpected as it was great,--this

unlooked-for arrival of his son and his family, interrupted, and for

a time almost did away with the sad misfortune of the count, who grew

worse and worse every hour; however, he presented his children to him,

and anew offered him the services of the whole family, and everything

that could be required for his comfort and convenience; for although he

had wished to remove to his own house, it would not have been possible,

so slight were the hopes of his recovery.

Auristella and Constance never left his bedside, but, moved by

Christian compassion and kindness, made themselves his nurses, against

the desire of the surgeons, who ordered him to be left alone, or at

least not attended by the women. But Heaven, that directs and disposes

all things in a manner which we cannot fathom, so ordered it in this

case, that the count's last hour drawing nigh, he one day, before he

took a final leave of them all, sent for Diego de Villaseñor, and when

they were alone together, spoke to him thus:--"I left home intending

to go to Rome this year, in which the supreme Pontiff has opened the

ark of the Church's treasure, and made known to us as in a holy year,

the infinite graces that are to be obtained thereby. I meant to travel

expeditiously, but as a poor pilgrim, rather than as a rich gentleman.

I entered this town, found an affray going on, as you have heard,

between the soldiers who were lodging in it, and the inhabitants: I

mingled with them, and in trying to save the lives of others, have

lost my own, for this wound so treacherously dealt, as I may say, will

in a short time end my existence. I do not know by whose hand it was

given, for in these popular tumults all is confusion. My death will

not grieve me, unless it should be the cause of that of others, either

for justice, or to avenge mine. Nevertheless, to do all that is in my

power, I here say that I forgive my murderer, and all who may have

been guilty with him; and I also desire to show my gratitude for all

the kindness I have received in your house, and the mark I wish to

give will be the very greatest you can possibly imagine. In the two

chests, which you see here, which contain my wardrobe, I believe I have

as much as twenty thousand ducats in gold and in jewels, which do not

take up much room; and if this sum, instead of being so small, was as

great as the mines of Potosí contain, I would do the same with it as

I am now doing. Take it then, or rather make the lady Constance your

grand-daughter, take it, for I give it to her in earnest as a marriage

portion; and further, I desire to espouse her myself; so that although

she will be speedily a widow, she will be at the same time honoured as

a wife and a maid. Send for her hither, and fetch a priest to perform

the ceremony. Her merit, her beauty, and her Christian virtues, make

her worthy to be queen of the whole world. Do not be surprised, sir, at

what you hear, and believe all I say, for it will be no such monstrous

novelty for a nobleman to marry a poor gentleman's daughter, in whom

unites every quality that can make a woman desirable. Heaven wills

it--my own wishes lead me to it. Go then, be discreet, and without

answering a word, fetch some one who can perform the marriage ceremony

between me and your grand-daughter, and also some one who can draw up

the writings about the money and jewels, so that no slander can ever

undo that which I bestow on her."

Villaseñor was greatly astonished at this discourse, and believed

that without a doubt the count's senses were bewildered, and that his

death was near at hand, since at that moment, for the most part, men

either say very fine things or very great follies; and so he answered

thus:--"My lord, I trust in God that you will recover your health,

and then you will more clearly see; and when no pain disturbs you,

more plainly feel what you are about as to the way you wish to bestow

your wealth; and the wife you will choose, my grand-child, is not your

equal. She is very far from deserving the honour of being your wife;

and I am not so greedy as to wish to buy the honour you would do me,

with what vulgar tongues would surely say (always ready to believe

evil). It seems to me that it would be said that I had you in my house,

that I worked upon your mind, and did all this from avarice."

"Let the world say what it likes," said the count; "if the vulgar

portion of it will deceive itself, then let it be deceived in what it

thinks of you."

"Well then," said Villaseñor, "I will not be so foolish as to set

myself against the good fortune that offers itself to me;" and so

saying, he left the room, and related what the count had said, to his

wife and grand-children, and to Periander and Auristella, who were of

opinion that without delay the offer should be accepted, and a person

sent for to bring the affair to a conclusion.

He did so, and in less than two hours Constance was married to the

count, and the gold and jewels in her possession, with all the

securities and confirmations that could possibly be made. There was

no music at this wedding, only sighs and tears, for the life of the

count was ebbing fast away. On the day that followed the marriage

ceremony, they all received the Sacrament, and the count expired in

the arms of his wife, the countess Constance, who, covering her head

with a black veil, fell on her knees, and raising her eyes to Heaven,

she began to say, "I vow;" but hardly had she begun to speak, when she

was stopped by Auristella. "What are you going to vow?" said she. "To

become a nun," replied the countess. "Stay and consider this," answered

Auristella; "those things we would do to serve God ought not to be done

in haste; nor as if they were impelled by some sudden accident; and as

it is owing to your husband's death that you are about to make this

vow, which afterwards, perhaps, you may not wish to fulfil, leave your

will in the hands of God; and your own discretion, and that of your

parents and relations, will be able to advise and direct you in the

path it will be best to take, and give orders for the interment of your

husband; and trust in God, that since you have been so unexpectedly

made a countess, it may please him to bestow some other title and

honour that will be more lasting than this is."

The countess yielded to this reasoning, and gave directions concerning

the funeral of the count. A younger brother arrived, to whom the

news had been sent at Salamanca, where he was studying. He wept for

his brother's death, but the expectation of his inheritance helped

to dry the tears. When he heard what had been done, he embraced his

sister-in-law, and did not contest the gift. He buried his brother

so as to remove him afterwards to his own place, and set out for the

king's court, to demand justice against his murderers. He gained his

suit,--the captains were beheaded, and many of the townspeople received

punishment. Constance remained with the rank and title of countess.

Periander began to think of continuing their journey, in which the

elder Antonio no longer wished to bear him company; neither did his

wife Ricla, weary of such long pilgrimages and wanderings, which had

not, however, tired their son Antonio, nor the young countess, who

could not exist separate from Auristella and Periander.

All this time Antonio had never shown his grandfather the canvass on

which their history was painted. One day he was displaying it, and

telling the story, he observed that one part was still wanting--that

of how Auristella got to the barbarous isle, when she and Periander

had met in changed attire; she, in that of a man, and he, dressed in

female garments--a strange metamorphosis--to which Auristella answered,

"That it would be told in a few words, that when the pirates stole her

and Clelia, with the two young wives of the fishermen, from the shores

of Denmark, they came to an uninhabited island, in order to divide

their spoil, and not being able to do this equally, one of the chief

among them said, 'He should be satisfied with herself as his share,'

and even added gifts to those of the others to make them more equal.

Thus," said she, "was I thrown into his power alone, and deprived of

a companion to alleviate my misfortunes. He made me put on the dress

of a man, and thus I accompanied him to many different places, serving

and obeying him in all that was consistent with honour. At length

we arrived at the barbarous isle, there we were surprised and made

prisoners by the barbarians. He died in the affray, and I was thrown

into the prison cave, where I found my beloved Clelia, who by other

not less unfortunate adventures had been brought hither. From her I

learned the history of these barbarians, the vain superstition that

they held, and the ridiculous and false prophecy. She also told me that

she had great reason to believe that my brother Periander had been

in the same dungeon, but she had not been able to speak to him, from

the haste the barbarians were in to drag him out to be sacrificed. I

wished to accompany Clelia to ascertain the truth, as I was in the

dress of a man, and in spite of her entreaties, who would fain have

prevented my doing so, I willingly delivered myself to be sacrificed by

the barbarians, persuaded that it would be infinitely better to end my

life at once, than to be perpetually in danger of losing it day after

day. And now I have nothing more to say, since you all know well what

followed after this."

The old Villaseñor wished this also to be added to the picture, and all

agreed that it should be done, and that the history of such wonderful

and unheard-of adventures ought not to be merely depicted upon a

perishable canvass, but should be written on tables of bronze, and

graven on the memories of men.

Meanwhile Villaseñor desired to keep the picture, if only to look upon

the well portrayed likenesses of his children, and the unequalled

beauty of Periander and Auristella.

In a few days the departure was determined upon, that they might

accomplish their vow at Rome. Antonio, the father, remained at home,

but the younger Antonio would not stay behind, nor his sister, the

young Constance, whose affection for Auristella was such, as I have

said before, that it would have carried her, not only to Rome, but if

it could be done together, she would gladly have accompanied her to the

other world.

The day of parting came, and they had tears, and embraces, and

grievous sighs, especially from Ricla, who felt in losing her children

as if her very heart went with them. The grandfather bestowed his

blessing upon them all, for the blessing of an old person is a thing

that avails much in such undertakings.

They took one of the servants of the house along with them to be

of service on the journey, and set out, leaving the parental home

sorrowful; and half in joy, half in sadness, went on their way.

[Illustration]

CHAPTER X.

Long pilgrimages involve various events, and as this variety is

composed of different things, so also must the causes be different. Our

history shows this well; the thread of it is broken by the incidents

that occur, making us doubt whether to relate them, because all that

happens is not good to be narrated, and may be passed over without

notice, and without lessening the interest of the story. There are some

actions although great, yet upon which we ought to be silent; others

so small they are not worthy of being described; for the excellence

of this history is, that everything therein written has the relish

or seasoning of the truth that goes along with it, which a fabulous

history has not. It is necessary in it to suit the events with correct

taste, and with so much probability, that in spite of the fiction which

would clash with the understanding, the whole may be harmonious.

Profiting then by this truth, I will tell you how the lovely little

band of pilgrims, pursuing their journey, arrived at a place, neither

very large nor very small, the name of which I forget; and in the midst

of the open place of the town, through which they must necessarily

pass, they saw a crowd of persons, all attentively listening to, and

looking at, two young men, in the garb of recently freed captives, who

were describing the story of a painting that lay on the ground before

them. It appeared that they had taken off two heavy chains that were

near them,--proofs and witnesses of their misfortunes;--and one of

them, who appeared about four-and-twenty years old, spoke in a clear

voice, and very eloquent tongue, ever and anon cracking a sort of whip

that he held in his hand, in such a way as to make a sound in the air

like what a coachman makes when he chastises or threatens his horses,

by cracking his driving whip over their heads.

Among those who were listening to the long story, were the two Alcaldes

of the town, both old men, but one rather younger than the other.

The freed captive was thus saying:--"Here, gentlemen, you may see

the picture of the town of Algiers, that bugbear and terror of all

the shores of the Mediterranean Sea; the harbour of all pirates; the

shelter and refuge of thieves and robbers, who, from this little port

you here see pictured, go forth with their vessels to disturb the

world, for they are bold enough even to pass the _ne plus ultra_ of

the pillars of Hercules, and attack and pillage the scattered islands

that lie up and down in the immense ocean, fancying themselves secure,

at least from the Turkish ships. This vessel, which is here painted so

small because the size of the painting obliges it to be reduced, is a

galley of two and twenty oars;--the master and captain of her is the

Turk you see there, standing up in the gangway with an arm in his hand

that he has just cut off from the body of the Christian you see there

also, and which he is using as a whip or a rope's end for the other

Christians who are bound fast to the benches. He is fearing lest those

four galleys that you perceive here giving chase, should reach him.

This first captive of the foremost row of benches, whose countenance

is disfigured by the blood that has dripped over it from the severed

arm, is myself, who served as stern-rower in this galley. The other

who is next to me, is my companion, less bloody, because less wounded.

Listen, gentlemen, and pay attention, and you may possibly hear the

threats and abusive words uttered by this Dog, Dragut, for that is the

name of the captain of the galley. A pirate as famous as he is cruel,

and as cruel as Phalaris, or Busiris, the Sicilian tyrants, I seem to

hear now sounding in my ears, the fierce Moorish oaths which he was

then uttering with the air of a demon; Moorish oaths and words, all

expressing contempt and abuse against the Christians, calling them

Jews, worthless, vile, and faithless, and to make the terror and horror

greater, he beat the living bodies with the dead arms severed from

them."

It seems that one of the two Alcaldes had been an Algerine captive

for a long period, and in a low voice he said to his companion, "This

captive has seemed to speak the truth so far, and so appears to be

really what he says he is; but I will examine him in a few particulars,

and we will see how he can answer me, for I would have you know that I

was in this very galley, and I do not recollect any man as first oar,

except one Alonzo Moclin, a native of Vélez Málaga," and turning to

the captive, he said to him, "Pray tell me, friend, whose galleys were

those that chased yours? and did you obtain the freedom you desired by

their means?" "The galleys," answered he, "were Don Sancho de Leiva's;

we did not obtain our liberty, for they did not come up with us. We

gained it afterwards, for we fell in with a ship, bound to Algiers

from Sargel, laden with wheat. We came in her to Oran, and from thence

to Málaga, from whence my companion and I set out for Italy, in the

intention of serving his majesty (whom may God preserve!) as soldiers."

"Tell me, friends," said the Alcalde, "you two captives, were you taken

to Algiers at first, or to any other part of Barbary?"

"We were not made prisoners together," replied the other captive,

"for I was taken near Alicant in a vessel laden with wool, going to

Genoa,--my companion in the Percheles[N] of Málaga, where he was a

fisherman. We became acquainted in a dungeon at Tetuan; we have been

friends and shared the same fortune for a long while, and for ten or

twelve _quartos_,[O] which is all you have offered us, we have given

full information to my lord Alcalde."

"Not much, my young gentleman," replied the Alcalde, "you have not gone

through the whole ordeal of the question yet. Listen to me, and say,

how many doors are there in Algiers? how many fountains, and how many

wells of sweet water?"

"A foolish question," answered the first captive. "As many doors as

houses;--I do not know how many fountains, and so many wells, that

I have not seen half; and the troubles I underwent there have gone

nigh to take away almost the memory of myself; and if my lord Alcalde

wishes to be uncharitable, we will gather up our pence, and strike our

tent and say adieu, for there's as good bread to be got elsewhere as

here."[P]

Then the Alcalde called to a man among the bystanders looking in, who

held the office of the town's crier sometimes, and sometimes that

of executioner when needful, and said, "Gil Berrueco, go and fetch

me here the first two asses you can catch; for by the life of our

lord the king, I will make these two captive gentlemen ride through

the streets, who have taken the liberty of usurping the alms of the

charitable, which belong of right to the real poor, and telling lies

and inventions, whilst they are all the time as whole and sound as an

apple, and more able and fit to use their spades than to be flourishing

whips senselessly in the air. I was a slave in Algiers five years, and

I know that they have said no one thing to show they ever were there."

"Body o' me!" cried the captive; "is it possible that my lord Alcalde

can expect that poor as we are in worldly gifts, we should be so rich

in those of memory, and that for a folly not worth three farthings, he

will put to shame two such insignificant students as ourselves, and

deprive his majesty of two brave soldiers on their way to Italy and

Flanders to rout and destroy, and wound and kill, all the enemies of

our holy Catholic faith that we may encounter. For if we must needs

tell the truth, who is of heavenly birth, my lord Alcalde must know

that we are no captives, but students from Salamanca, who, in the midst

of our studies, felt a desire to see the world, and to know a little

of the life of a soldier, as we were acquainted sufficiently with a

peaceful life. To carry our scheme the better into effect, we happened

to light upon a party of captives, who might be true, or false, like

ourselves; I cannot say if they were or not. From them we bought the

canvass and picture, and obtained information respecting Algiers, and

such things as seemed necessary to us to render our fraud credible. We

sold our books and our furniture at a low price, and laden with this

apparatus, have travelled thus far, and we think of going on, if your

worship does not forbid it."

"What I am thinking of doing," said the Alcalde, "is to give each of

you a hundred lashes, and in lieu of the pike you talk of wielding in

Flanders, put an oar into your hands to work with at the galleys, with

which you may perhaps be as serviceable to his majesty as you would be

with the pike."

"I could wish," rejoined the young man, who had been the principal

speaker, "that my lord Alcalde was an Athenian legislator, and that

the severity of his office reached the ears of the other lords of the

council, where, obtaining credit from them, they would hold him as

a severe and rigid judge, and commit to him matters of importance,

wherein he might show his severity and his justice. But my lord Alcalde

knows that 'Summum jus summa injuria.'"

"See how you talk, friend," replied the second Alcalde; "here there is

no justice without reason; but all the Alcaldes of this place, have

ever been, are, and will be, pure and faithful, and it will be better

for you to talk less."

At this instant the crier returned and said, "My lord Alcalde, I can

find no asses in the place, only the two magistrates, Berrueco and

Crespo, who are taking their ride."

"I sent you for asses, not magistrates, blockhead! but go and

bring them hither, whether they will or no; I wish to have them

present at the pronunciation of this sentence, which shall be given

notwithstanding, and is not to fail for want of asses, of which, thank

God, we have plenty in this place."

"You will never have them in Heaven, my lord Alcalde," said the youth,

"if you go on thus severely. Please to consider that we have stolen

nothing; we have hardly gained a miserable sustenance by our trick,

which is laborious enough, like the business of a day labourer, or

any workmen. Our parents taught us no trade, thus we were obliged to

have recourse to our wits. Punish those who are guilty of bribery, of

house-breaking, highwaymen, false witnesses, disaffected or disloyal

men, the idle and the good-for-nothing, but let alone the poor fellows

who go straight forward to serve his majesty, with their best right

hand, and their sharpest ingenuity. There are no better soldiers than

those who are transplanted from the seats of learning to the fields

of war. None ever left his studies to be a soldier who was not a

super-excellent one, for when strength and intellect meet and join,

they make a marvellous composition, with which Mars rejoices, peace is

maintained, and the country aggrandized."

Periander and most of the bystanders admired much what the young man

said, and the fluency of his discourse. He proceeded thus:--"Let us

examine closely into this matter, my lord Alcalde. Look, and look

again, and scrutinize the seams of our garments; if you can find six

reals, not only you may give us a hundred, but six hundred lashes. Let

us see then if the acquisition of so small an amount of gain deserves

to be punished with dishonour, and martyred with the galleys. And

again I say that my lord Alcalde should think better of this, and not

overhastily do that which may perhaps give him reason to repent by and

by. Discreet judges punish, but do not take vengeance upon faults.

The prudent and compassionate mingle equity with justice, and between

rigour and clemency prove their excellent judgment."

"By Heaven," said the second Alcalde, "but the boy talks well, although

he talks too much, and I not only will not consent that they be

flogged, but I will have them carried to my own house, and help them on

with their journey, on condition that they go straight forwards, for

if they are to be wandering here and there, it will prove them rather

vicious than necessitous."

The first Alcalde, already tamer and becoming compassionate, more

mildly said, "I will not have them go to your house, they shall go

to mine, where I will give them a lesson upon the state of things at

Algiers, so that for the future nobody shall be able to catch them

tripping in their pretended story."

The two lads thanked him. The bystanders praised this kind intention of

the Alcalde's, and our pilgrims were delighted with the result of the

affair.

The first Alcalde then came up to Periander, and said, "And you, friend

pilgrims, have you got any picture with you to tell us about? Have you

any history to relate, and make us believe it true, although falsehood

herself may have composed it?"

Periander made no answer, for he saw Antonio pulling out the passports,

licenses, and dispatches that they carried with them, and placing them

in the Alcalde's hands, he said, "Your worship may see by these papers

who we are, and where we are going, but we do not think it necessary to

produce them, as we ask no alms, and have no need to ask any. Thus, you

perceive, you may let us pass on freely."

The Alcalde took the papers, and because he did not know how to read,

he gave them to his companion, who knew as little as he did, and so

they passed on into the hands of their clerk, who, glancing over them

rapidly, returned them to Antonio, saying, "My lord Alcalde, there is

as much worth and goodness as there is beauty in these pilgrims: if

they wish to remain here to-night, my house shall serve them for an

inn, and I shall attend to their wishes to the utmost of my power."

Periander thanked him; they stayed there that night, as it was late;

and they were accommodated at the clerk's house with kindness,

abundance, and cleanliness.

FOOTNOTES:

[N] Suburbs or districts near the sea-shore, so called from the pieces

of timber on which the fish are spread and dried.

[O] A small coin.

[P] Tan buen pan hacen aquí como en Francia. (Proverb.)

[Illustration]

CHAPTER XI.

Day came, and with it the thanks of hospitality received, and once

more the pilgrims were on their way. As they were leaving the town,

they fell in with the false captives, who told them that they had been

instructed by the Alcalde in such a way that they could never again be

caught in a falsehood as to Algerine matters:[Q] "So that sometimes,"

said one, (he who was the chief spokesman) "sometimes one may rob by

authority of the magistrate,--I mean that sometimes a bad minister of

justice connives at delinquency for the sake of interest."

They travelled on together till they came to where the road branched

off in two separate directions. The captives took that which led to

Carthagena, and the pilgrims that to Valencia.

Now had Aurora come forth from her eastern balconies, blotting out the

stars, and adorning the path whereon the sun was to take his accustomed

course. Bartholomew, for so I think the lad who had the baggage mule

in charge was named, seeing so bright and beautiful a sunrise tinging

the clouds in the sky with such a variety of hues, so that nothing

ever was seen more lovely and pleasing, exclaimed, "That man who used

to preach in our town said what was very true, when he told us that

heaven and earth declared the glory and greatness of God; and if I did

not know God as I have been taught to do, by my parents and by the

priests at home, I think I should trace and know him now, by seeing the

glory of that sky which seems to tell how great He is; and by yonder

sun that lights us, which although it looks no bigger than a shield,

is many times larger than the whole earth; and as they tell me also,

even more than that, he is so active, that in twenty-four hours he can

travel more than three hundred thousand leagues; whether this be true

or no, I know not, but many wise men say so, and therefore I believe

it, although it is rather hard to understand; but the thing that makes

me wonder most is, that underneath us there are other people whom they

call Antipodes, so that we above have our feet upon their heads,--a

thing that seems to me quite impossible,--for to support so great a

load their heads must need be made of iron."

Periander smiled at the rustic learning of the boy, and said to him,

"I would fain seek for such words, O Bartholomew, as should show you

the error you are labouring under, and the true form of the earth, to

understand which it is necessary to go back to the beginning; but to

assist your comprehension, I must limit my explanation, and tell you

only one thing, which is that you must understand that the earth is the

centre of the heavens; I call the centre an indivisible point, to which

all the lines of its circumference go: you can but little comprehend

this, and so you must be satisfied to know that the earth has

everywhere the sky above it; and in whatever part of it a man may be,

he will always have the sky over his head; and so as that sky you see

above covers you, does it also cover the Antipodes, without hindrance,

and as it is ordained by Nature, who is the head servant or steward to

God, the Creator of Heaven and earth."

The boy was well pleased to listen to Periander's words, which also

gave pleasure to Auristella, to the countess, and her brother.

With these and other things, as they travelled, Periander instructed

and entertained them, when they heard behind them, a cart accompanied

by seven archers on foot and one on horseback, with a musket hanging

to his saddle-bow. He came up to Periander and said, "If you should

have any cordial or restorative among you, Sir Pilgrims, as I think you

possibly may, since, from your appearance, I should judge you rather to

be rich gentlefolk than poor pilgrims; I entreat you to give me some

for a poor fellow who is lying in a swoon in yonder cart, condemned to

the galleys for two years with twelve more soldiers, who, for having

been present at the death of a nobleman, some days ago, and found

guilty thereof, are condemned to the oar, and their commander, as more

guilty, I believe, has been beheaded."

The fair Constance, on hearing this, could not restrain her tears, for

she recognised in this story the death of her short-lived husband;

but, listening rather to the dictates of humanity than to thoughts of

revenge, she ran to the baggage mule, and took out a case of cordials,

and going to the cart, she asked, "Where is the fainting person?" One

of the soldiers answered, "He is there, lying in that corner, his face

anointed by the grease that is used for the wheels, because he does

not wish to be a pretty corpse when he dies, and that will be soon, if

he continues obstinate in refusing to eat anything."

The youth raised his head on hearing these words, and removing from his

face an old hat which covered it entirely, showed it to Constance, all

begrimed with dirt and grease, and, stretching out his hand to receive

the cordial she held, he took it, saying, "Heaven reward you, lady." He

then pulled his hat again over his eyes, and returned to his melancholy

and to the corner where he wished to die. There was some further talk

between the pilgrims and the guards of the cart, which ended by their

taking different roads.

In a few days our pilgrims reached a place which was inhabited by the

Moors. It was about a league from the sea, in the kingdom of Valencia.

They found here no inn where they could lodge; but at all the houses

they were hospitably invited to come in, which Antonio seeing, said, "I

do not know what they mean by speaking ill of these people, they all

seem to me saints."

"Our Saviour," said Periander, "was received at Jerusalem with palms,

by the very same people, who, in a short time after, crucified him. Now

'tis well, we will trust to God and take our chance, as they say. Let

us accept the invitation of this good old gentleman who has offered us

hospitality."

So it was, an old Moor almost forcibly drew the pilgrims by their

long garments into his house, and seemed anxious to treat them not as

Moors, but truly in a Christian manner. His daughter came forward to

offer her services, dressed in the Moorish fashion, and so lovely she

looked in it, that the most graceful Christian would have been happy

to look like her, for Nature in bestowing charms is as prodigal to the

barbarian of Scythia as to the citizen of Toledo.

This beautiful Moorish damsel then, taking Auristella and Constance

by the hands, led them into a room on the ground-floor, looked

cautiously all round her as if fearful of being overheard; and when

she had assured herself that she was quite safe, she said, "Alas!

dear ladies, why is it that you have come here like simple lambs to

the slaughter-house? Do you see that old man, whom I with shame and

sorrow call my father? Do you note the extraordinary kindness of his

reception? Know that he means nothing else than to be your executioner.

It is intended that this night seventeen Barbary pirate vessels are

to carry off all the people of this place with all their property,

not leaving a thing behind that shall make any one desire to return

in search of it. These unfortunate creatures imagine that in Barbary

they shall find both pleasure for their bodies and salvation for their

souls, without recollecting that of many towns, the inhabitants of

which have gone over almost entirely, no news have been received but

that they have repented. The Barbary Moors cry up the glories of their

land, and those of this country run thither to see them, and are caught

in the nets of their misfortune. If you would escape from this, and

would preserve the liberty you were born to, leave this house at once,

and hasten to the church; there you will find a friend to give you

shelter. He is the priest of the place; he and the notary are the only

Christians here; you will also find there Iarife, the (Jadraque),[R]

who is my uncle, a Moor only in name, but Christian in everything else.

Tell him what is doing, and say that Rafaella told you so; you will

then be believed and protected; and do not treat it as a jest, unless

you wish to find at your cost there is no greater deception than a too

late discovery of one."

The earnestness with which Rafaella spoke went to the hearts of

Auristella and Constance, and they believed her words, and only replied

by thanks. They immediately called Periander and Antonio, and told them

what had passed. Then, without seeming to do anything particular, they

all went out. Bartholomew objected much to the move, for he felt more

in need of rest than a change of abode; but he obeyed his masters, and

they reached the church, where they were well received by the priest

and the Jadraque, to whom they related all Rafaella had told them. The

priest said, "It is some days, gentlemen, since the arrival of these

vessels has disturbed us, and although it is customary for them to

come, yet I have felt uneasy. Come in hither, my children, the church

is a good castle, and has strong and good doors, not easily burnt or

destroyed." "Ah," said the Jadraque, "if that my eyes may but see,

before they close for ever, this land freed from the thorns and the

briers that oppress it. Ah! when will the time come, foretold by my

grandfather, who was a learned astrologer, when Spain shall see herself

entire and firm in the Christian religion, for she alone is the corner

of the earth where the true faith is most acknowledged and revered. I

am a Moor, sirs, and you hear that I deny it not, but not for this am

I the less a Christian, for God gives his grace to all who serve him,

and as you know, he makes his sun shine alike upon the good and the

bad, and bestows his rain equally on the just and the unjust. I say,

then, that this grandfather of mine used to fore-tell that, about

this time, there would reign in Spain a king of the house of Austria

(Note 7), who would conceive in his soul the difficult resolution of

expelling the Moors from the country, as one flings from one's bosom

a serpent that is devouring one's entrails, or rather, as one who

separates the wild flowers from the wheat, and pulls out the weeds

from the growing grain. Come, then, brave youth, and prudent king, and

execute this decree of expulsion; let not the fear of rendering this

country desert and depopulated, deter thee, nor even the consideration

that there are many who have been baptized whom it would not be well

to expel; for, although these are fears that deserve to be considered,

yet the carrying so great a work into effect would make them not worth

thinking of. Soon the land would be re-peopled by Christians, it would

again be fertile, and more so than it is now: it would have its lords,

and, if not so many or such humble vassals as now, yet they would be

good Catholics, under whose protection their roads would be secure,

and peace would reign, and riches increase without fear of robbers and

highwaymen."

After having thus spoken, he made the doors fast, and fortified them

by putting all the seats and benches against them. They then mounted

to the top of the tower, taking up a portable ladder, or steps. The

priest carried up with him the holy vessels belonging to the sacrament,

provided a store of stones, and armed himself with two loaded guns.

They left the baggage mule at the door relieved of its burden, and

Bartholomew shut himself in with his masters.

With watchful eyes, ready hands, and resolute hearts, the little party

awaited the hour of assault, of which the Moorish maiden had given them

warning.

Midnight passed, the priest knew it by the stars; they looked out

upon the sea which lay before them, and not a cloud passed over in the

moonlight, but they fancied it a Moorish bark, and, applying themselves

to the bells, they began to raise a peal so loud and vigorous that

every valley and all the shores resounded again; at which sound the

officials in the harbour assembled together, and ran here and there,

but their haste was of no use in preventing the vessels approaching the

shore and taking away the people from land; those in the place who were

expecting them, went out laden with their most valuable property, and

were received by the Turks with loud cries and shouts, and the sound of

musical instruments.

They set fire to the place, and also to the church doors, not meaning

to enter in, but simply to do all the harm they could. Bartholomew

was left to go afoot, for they carried off his mule, demolished a

stone cross that stood at the entrance of the town, called aloud upon

Mahomet, and gave themselves up to the Turks, a dishonest and thievish

nation. Several times, and perhaps not always in vain, did Periander

and Antonio fire their guns; many a stone did Bartholomew throw, always

to that quarter whence the mule was stolen, and many an arrow was

shot by the Jadraque; but more than all were the tears that were shed

by Auristella and Constance, praying to God to deliver them from the

danger they were in, and that his temple might not be injured by the

fire, which it was not: it did not escape, however, by a miracle, but

because the doors were of iron, and the fire not very strong.

It was nearly day when the ships laden with their prizes went to sea

with shouts of triumph and raising the Moorish war cry, and the joyful

sounds of atabals and trumpets.

Two persons were now seen running towards the church, one from the

shore, the other from the land side; on their nearer approach, the

Jadraque knew one to be his niece Rafaella, who, with a cane cross in

her hand, came, crying out, "Christian, Christian, and free, free by

the grace and mercy of God!"

They recognized in the other the notary, who had by chance been out of

the town that night, and at the sound of the alarm bell came to see

the disastrous events, which he deplored, not for the loss of wife

or child, since he had none, but for that of his house, which was

plundered and burned.

They waited till the day was far advanced, and the ships began to

disappear in the distance, and the coast guardians had taken measures

to protect the coast, then they descended from the tower, and opened

the church, which Rafaella entered with her face bathed in joyful

tears, and her beauty heightened by her emotion. She knelt and offered

her prayers to the images, and then embraced her uncle, first having

kissed the hands of the good priest. The notary neither said a prayer

nor kissed the hand of anybody, for his whole soul was occupied with

the thoughts of his lost property.

The first alarm having subsided, the fugitives recovered their spirits,

and the Jadraque recovering breath, began afresh to think about his

grandfather's prophecy as being undoubtedly inspired from above.--"Ah!

noble youth! ah! invincible king, trample down and destroy all

impediments, and make Spain clear and free from my bad race, which now

infests and injures her. Ah! prince, as wise as thou art illustrious,

thou new Atlantis, who supportest the weight of this kingdom, aid, and

make easy with thy wisdom this necessary expulsion; fill the seas with

thy galleys laden with the useless crowd of the Hagarene generation;

cast upon the opposite shores the brambles, weeds, and thorns that

hinder the growth and abundance of a Christian population; for, if

the few Hebrews who went over into Egypt multiplied so exceedingly,

that, when they went away, they were in number more than seven hundred

families, what is not to be feared from those who are more numerous and

live more idly? Religion does not gather any under her wing, none are

cut down by the Indies; war does not diminish their numbers; all marry,

all, or most, have children; hence it is to be inferred that they must

increase and multiply innumerably. Again, I say, arise, O king! arise,

and set to work, and leave the history of thy reign bright as the sun,

and clear as the blue sky above us."

Two days more the pilgrims stayed in this place. They provided

themselves with all they wanted; Bartholomew got a new baggage mule;

they thanked the priest for his kindness, and praised the Jadraque for

his right way of thinking, and, embracing Rafaella, took their leave of

all, and went on their way.