CONTINUATION, AND CONCLUSION, OF THE FORCE OF FRIENDSHIP.
Success had not attended the endeavours of the servants of Donna
Theodora to prevent her being carried away; but they had at least
opposed it with courage, and their resistance had been fatal to some
of the companions of Alvaro Ponza. Among others, whose wounds had not
permitted them to follow their comrades, there was a man, stretched
almost lifeless on the sand, whom they recognized as one of Alvaro's
own attendants. Perceiving that he still breathed, they carried him
to the house, and spared no pains to restore him to his senses. In
this they at last succeeded, although the quantity of blood which had
escaped from his numerous wounds had reduced his stream of life to its
lowest ebb, and left him extremely weak. To induce him to speak, they
promised to take every care to prolong his days, and not to deliver him
into the hands of justice, provided that he would inform them of the
place to which his master had designed to take the Donna Theodora.
Gratified by these assurances, although the state to which he was
reduced left him but small hope to profit by their realization, he
rallied all his remaining strength, and, with a faltering voice,
confirmed by his confession the information that Don Fabricio had
received. He added, however, that Don Alvaro designed to conduct the
widow of Cifuentes to Sassari, in the island of Sardinia, where he had
a relation whose protection and power promised him a safe asylum.
[Illustration: Alvaro's attendant is carried away]
The deposition of the dying man, for he expired a few hours afterwards,
raised Mendoza and the Toledan from complete despair; and as their
stay at Donna Theodora's seat was now useless, they at once returned
to Valencia. After debating for some time on the steps most expedient
to be taken, they resolved to seek their common enemy in his chosen
retreat, and in a few days embarked, without attendants, at Denia,
for Port Mahon, not doubting that they would there find some means
of transport to the island of Sardinia. It so happened that scarcely
had they reached their destined port, when they learned that a vessel
freighted for Cagliari was about to sail, and in it they immediately
secured a passage.
The vessel left the island of Minorca with breezes friendly to their
hopes; but five or six hours after their departure there came on a
calm, and night brought with it winds directly in their teeth; so that
they were obliged to tack about and wait for a favourable change.
Three days were thus passed in sailing without progress; when, on the
fourth, about two hours after noon, they discovered a strange sail, all
its canvas spread, and bearing down directly upon them. At first they
took it for a merchantman, bound for the shores they steered from; but
observing that it came within the range of cannon-shot without showing
its colours, they began to fear it was a corsair.
They were not deceived: it was a Tunisian pirate, which approached
them in full expectation that the Christians would yield without a
blow. As it came near enough, however, for the corsairs to discern what
was passing on board of their expected prey, and to observe that the
sails were reefed and the guns run out, they guessed that the affair
was likely to turn out more seriously than they had expected. They
therefore shortened sail, wore round, hurriedly cleared the deck, and
prepared for action.
A brisk exchange of shots soon commenced, and the Christians, taking
advantage of the surprise which their unexpected resistance had
occasioned, began to prevail over their opponent; but an Algerine
pirate, larger and of heavier metal than either of the others, arriving
in the middle of the action, took part with its brother of Tunis, and
the Christians were thus placed between two fires.
[Illustration: the slave on the bow of the Algerine pirate ship]
Discouraged by this unlooked-for circumstance, and feeling that it was
useless to continue the unequal strife, they gradually slackened their
fire, and at last it ceased altogether. On this a slave appeared on
the bow of the Algerine vessel, who hailed them in their own language,
bidding them, if they hoped for mercy, to strike to Algiers. A Turk
then advanced, holding in his hand a green silk flag studded with
silver crescents interlacing each other, which he waved in the air.
The Christians, looking upon further resistance as hopeless, gave
themselves up to all the grief that the idea of slavery inspires in
the breasts of freemen, until the master of the vessel, fearing that
a further delay of submission would only serve to irritate their
barbarian conqueror, hauled down his colours, threw himself into a
boat with some of his sailors, and went to surrender to the Algerine
corsair.
[Illustration: surrender]
The latter immediately sent a portion of his crew on board the Spanish
vessel to examine, or rather to pillage it of all that it contained.
The Tunisian pirate gave similar orders to some of his men, so that all
the passengers it contained were in an instant disarmed and plundered,
and were shortly afterwards exchanged into the Algerine vessel, when
the two pirates divided their prisoners by lot.
It would have been at least some consolation for Mendoza and his friend
to have both fallen into the hands of the same corsair; they would have
found their chains somewhat the less heavy to have borne them together;
but Fortune, apparently disposed to make them feel the terrors of her
caprice, allotted Don Fabricio to the pirate of Tunis, and Don Juan
to his competitor of Algiers. Picture to yourself the grief of the
two friends, when told that they must part. They threw themselves at
the feet of the corsairs, and entreated them that they might not be
separated. But their entreaties were vain; the barbarians before whom
they knelt were too much accustomed to the sight of human misery not to
be proof against the prayers of their present victims. On the contrary,
judging by their demeanour that the two captives were men of wealth and
station, and that they would consequently pay a weighty ransom, they
were the more resolved to divide them.
Mendoza and Zarata, perceiving that they were in the power of men with
hearts insensible to all but gain, turned towards each other, their
looks expressing the depth of their affliction. But when the booty had
been shared, and the Tunisian pirate prepared to return to his own
vessel with his proportion, and the slaves which it included, they
seemed as though they would expire with despair. Mendoza rushed into
the arms of the Toledan, and embracing him, exclaimed: "Must we then
separate? Cruel necessity! Is it not enough that we should be borne
to slavery, and unavenged? Must we even be denied to bear in union
the sorrows to which we are destined? Ah! Don Juan, what have we done
that Heaven should thus visit us with its terrible wrath?" "Seek not
elsewhere the cause of our disgrace," replied Don Juan: "I only am
to blame. The death of two unfortunates, immolated to my revenge,
although excused to mortal eyes, is deep offence to Heaven; and you, my
friend, are punished for the fault of loving one who took upon himself
the vengeance that belongs to God alone."
[Illustration: Mendoza and Zarata are separated]
While they spoke thus, tears, strangers to the eyes of men, streamed
down their cheeks, and sighs but choked their utterance. So touching
was their grief, that those who shared their fate were yet as much
affected by the sight as with their own misfortune. Not so the wretches
who formed the crew of the Tunisian corsair. Perceiving that Mendoza
was the last to quit the Algerine vessel, they tore him without
ceremony from the arms of the Toledan; and, as they dragged him away,
added blows to insult. "Adieu, dear friend," he cried: "adieu for ever!
Donna Theodora is yet unavenged! and, parted from you, the miseries
that these wretches prepare will be the least that slavery can bring to
me."
Don Juan was unable to reply to the exclamations of his friend; the
treatment that he saw him endure filled his breast with a horror which
deprived him of speech. And so, Signor Don Cleophas, as the course
of my narrative requires that we should follow the Toledan, we will
leave Don Fabricio, in solemn silence, to be conducted on board of the
Tunisian pirate.
The Algerine returned toward his port, where, having arrived, he
conducted his slaves to the house of the superintending basha, and
thence to the public market. An officer of the Dey, Mezzomorto,
purchased Don Juan for his master; and the new slave was at once
employed as an assistant in the gardens of the harem. This occupation,
although laborious for a gentleman, was however, the less disagreeable
to Don Juan, on account of the solitude to which it left him; for,
situated as he was, it was a pleasure to have at least the liberty of
indulging his own melancholy thoughts. Incessantly occupied with his
misfortunes, his mind, far from endeavouring to lighten them with hope,
seemed to delight in dwelling on the past, and to inspire his bosom
with gloomiest presages for the future.
[Illustration: Mezzomorto approaches Zarata in the garden]
One day he was occupied with his work, murmuring the while one of his
now usual songs of sorrow, when the Dey, who was walking in the garden,
came upon him without being perceived, and stopped to listen. Pleased
with his voice, and moved by curiosity, he approached the captive and
asked his name. The Toledan replied, that he was called Alvaro; for,
following the usual custom with slaves, of concealing their station, he
thought fit to change his name, and, as the outrage upon Donna Theodora
was ever uppermost in his thoughts, the name of the detested Alvaro
had come soonest to his lips when suddenly asked his own. Mezzomorto,
who spoke the Spanish language tolerably well, then questioned him as
to the customs of Spain, and particularly as to the conduct observed
by those of its cavaliers who would render themselves agreeable to
their ladies;--to all of which Don Juan replied in such a manner as to
greatly please the Dey.
"Alvaro," said he to him at last, "you appear to be intelligent; and I
judge you to have been a man of rank in your own country: but, however
that may be, you are fortunate enough to please me, and I will honour
you with my confidence." At these words, Don Juan prostrated himself
before the Dey, and with well-affected humility, kissed the hem of his
master's robe, and after touching with it his eyes and forehead, arose,
and stood before him in silence.
"To begin by giving you proof of my regard," resumed the Dey, "you
know, that in my seraglio, I have some of the fairest women which
Europe can offer for my pleasures. Among these, however, there is one
whose beauty is beyond compare; nor do I believe that the Grand Signor
himself possesses so exquisite a creature, although for him the winds
of heaven daily waft ships with their lovely burden from all quarters
of the globe. In her visage the dazzling sun seems reflected, and her
form is graceful as the rose's stem which grows in the gardens of Eram.
My soul is enchanted with her perfections.
[Illustration: the unhappy beauty of the seraglio]
"Alas! this miracle of nature, all beauteous as she is, maintains and
nourishes the deepest grief; which neither time nor all the efforts of
my love can dissipate. Although fortune has yielded her to my will, I
have ever respected her grief, and controlled my desires; and unlike
those who, placed as I am, seek but the momentary gratifications of
sense, I fain would win her heart, and have striven to gain it by
respectful attentions, such as the vilest Mussulman that lives would
feel degraded to offer to the fairest Christian slave.
"Still, all my cares seem but to add to her affliction; and I will not
disguise that its obstinacy begins to weary me. The sense of slavery
is not imprinted in the minds of others of my slaves in characters so
deep, but that a look of favour from myself can soon efface or gild
them; so that I may well tire of this incessant grief. Nevertheless,
before I abandon myself to the passion which transports me, I would
make one last endeavour to touch her insensible heart; and I will leave
this task to you. As my fair slave is Christian, and even of your own
country, she may confide in you, and you may persuade her to my wishes
better than another. Go, then! tell her of my riches and my power; tell
her that among my many slaves, I care for only her; and, if it must
be so, bid her even hope that she may one day be the honoured wife of
Mezzomorto. Tell her that I would rather win her love, than receive the
hand of a Sultana from the grace of his Highness the Sultan himself."
Don Juan threw himself a second time before the Dey; and although not
over-delighted with this commission, assured him that he would do his
utmost to execute it to his satisfaction. "Enough!" replied Mezzomorto,
"leave your work and follow me. I am about, contrary to our usages, to
permit you privately to see this slave. But, tremble, if you dare abuse
the confidence I place in you! Tortures, such as even were never yet
inflicted by the Turks, shall punish your temerity. Strive to overcome
your own sorrows, and dream of liberty as the reward of ending the
sufferings that I endure." Don Juan threw down his hoe, and silently
followed the Dey, who, when they entered the palace, left him, that he
might prepare the afflicted captive to receive his messenger of love.
[Illustration: the unhappy beauty salutes Mezzomorto]
She was with two aged slaves, who retired as soon as Mezzomorto
appeared. The beauteous slave herself saluted the Dey with great
respect, but she could not behold him without greater fear, as indeed
had ever been the case when he presented himself before her. He
perceived it, and to reassure her mind: "Amiable captive," he said, "I
come but to inform you that among my slaves there is a Spaniard with
whom you would perhaps be glad to converse. If you wish to see him, I
will give him permission to speak with you, and even alone."
As the lovely slave expressed no objection to receive her countryman:
"I go," resumed the Dey, "to send him to you: may he, by the
information he conveys, serve to relieve you of your troubles!" He left
her as he spoke; and as he went out, meeting the Toledan, said to him
in a low voice: "Enter! and when you have communicated what I desire,
come to my cabinet and inform me of the result."
Zarata entered as he was directed, closed the door, and bowed
before the favoured slave, who returned his salute, without either
particularly observing the other. When, however, their eyes at last
met, a cry of surprise and joy escaped them both: "Oh Heaven!"
exclaimed the Toledan, approaching the captive, "is it not a vision
that deceives mine eyes? Can it be the Donna Theodora whom I see?" "Ah!
Don Juan," ere he had uttered these words, cried the lady he addressed,
"is it indeed yourself who speaks to me?" "Yes, madam," replied the
Toledan, while he fell upon his knee and tenderly kissed her hand, "it
is Don Juan. Let these tears, that my eyes, rejoiced to behold you
again, cannot restrain; let this transport, that you alone can excite
in the heart of him who kneels before you, witness for my presence! I
murmur no longer against my destiny, since it conducts me to you--Alas!
what does my ecstacy inspire? I forget that you are in chains. By
what unhappy chance do I find you here? How have you escaped from the
frantic passion of Alvaro? Ah, what horror fills my soul to mention his
very name! How do I tremble to learn the fate for which Heaven reserved
you, when it abandoned you to his perfidy!"
[Illustration: Don Juan kisses Donna Theodora's hand]
"Heaven," replied the Donna Theodora, "has avenged me on Alvaro
Ponza. Had I but time to relate to you----" "Time!" interrupted Don
Juan,--"you have plenty, and to spare. The Dey himself permitted me
to see you, and, what may well surprise you, alone. Profit by the
happy moments which his confidence affords, and inform me of all that
has happened to you since you were carried off by Alvaro." "And who,
then, told you that it was by him I was taken away?" inquired Donna
Theodora. "Alas! madam, I know it but too well," replied the Toledan.
He then shortly narrated the manner in which he had become acquainted
with Alvaro's design, and had witnessed its execution; how Mendoza
and himself had followed him in the hope of preserving her from his
violence, or to revenge it; and of their unfortunate, but for this
meeting, encounter with the pirates, and its consequence.
As soon as he had finished this recital, Donna Theodora began
the story of heir own sufferings, as follows: "I need not dwell
upon my astonishment at finding myself seized by a masked band of
ruffians--indeed, I had hardly time to wonder at the outrage, for
I swooned in the arms of the first who laid hold of me; and when I
recovered my senses, which must have been after the lapse of some
hours, I found myself alone with Agnes, one of my own attendants, in a
cabin on the poop of a vessel, in the open sea, sailing with all its
canvass spread before the wind.
"The perfidious Agnes, on perceiving my tears, exhorted me to bear my
misfortune with patience; but from a few words which dropped from her
as she spoke, I was not long in divining that she was in the confidence
of Alvaro, who shortly afterwards appeared. Throwing himself at my
feet: 'Madam,' he exclaimed, 'pardon to a too fond lover the means by
which he has dared to possess himself of your person! You know how
deeply I have loved you, and how ardently I disputed with Mendoza for
your heart, up to the fatal day when you declared your preference
for him. Had my passion been the cold and empty feeling that mortals
dignify with the name of love, I might have vanquished it as easily as
such a feeling is inspired; but my misfortune was beyond consolation.
I live but to adore those charms; and, despised though I be, I cannot
free myself from their spell. But, madam, let not the fury of my
passion alarm you! I have not deprived you of liberty, that I may rob
you of honour; I seek only that, in the retreat unto which we are
hastening, a sacred tie may unite our hearts for ever.'
"He continued in this strain for some time, but in terms which I cannot
remember. To hear him, it would have seemed that, in forcing me to wed
him, he did me no wrong; and that where I saw but an insolent ravisher,
I should have beheld alone an impassioned lover. As, however, while he
spoke thus, I answered him but with tears, and exhibited an evident
despair, he left me; but not without making signs to Agnes, which I
plainly understood as directions for her to second, as well as she was
able, the splendid arguments by which he had sought to dazzle my weak
understanding.
"She did her best; representing to me that, after the éclat of an
abduction, I could not do otherwise than graciously accept the
offered hand of Alvaro Ponza; that, whatever aversion I might feel
for his excessive tenderness, my reputation demanded of my heart this
sacrifice. As, however, the necessity which she painted, of a hated
marriage, was not exactly the way to dry my tears, I still remained
inconsolable; and Agnes had exhausted all her eloquence, when we
suddenly heard upon the deck a noise which attracted the attention of
us both.
"This noise, which proceeded from Alvaro's people, was caused by the
apparition of a large ship, which was sweeping with its wings all
spread upon us; and from which, as our vessel was by no means so good
a sailer, there was no escaping. Down it came, and we soon heard cries
of 'Lie to, and send a boat aboard!' But Alvaro Ponza and his men, who
knew what they had to expect from yielding, chose rather to die, or at
least to run the chance of a combat. The action was sharp, but of short
duration: I cannot pretend to give you its details, and will therefore
only say, that Alvaro and every one of his crew perished, after
fighting like men who preferred death to slavery. For myself and Agnes,
we were removed into the other vessel, which belonged to Mezzomorto,
and was commanded by Aby Aly Osman, one of his officers.
[Illustration: Alvaro and his crew are killed]
"Aby Aly looked at me for some time, with much surprise; and
recognizing me, by my dress, for a Spaniard, he said to me in almost
pure Castilian: 'Moderate your grief, lady, for having fallen into
slavery: it is a consolation in our woes to know that they are
inevitable. But what do I speak of?--Woe! Happiness alone awaits you.
You are far too lovely for the homage of Christian dogs. Heaven never
made you for the pleasure of the miserable wretches whom we trample
under foot. You were formed to receive the admiration of the men of
the world; a Mussulman alone is worthy to possess such beauty. I shall
return at once,' he added, 'to Algiers. Albeit I have made no other
prize, I know our Dey too well not to be persuaded that with you I
shall not be all unwelcome. I have no great fear that he will condemn
my impatience to place within his hands a beauty whom our Prophet must
have sent on earth expressly for his enjoyment, and to be the light of
his harem.'
"These compliments, Don Juan, told me too plainly all I had to fear,
and my tears flowed the faster as he spoke. Aby Aly was pleased,
however, to interpret my fears after his own fashion; and, laughing at
my timidity, gave orders to sail towards Algiers. Never was port so
dreaded by the ship-bound habitant of ocean! Sometimes I threw myself
on my knees, and implored Heaven for its protection; at others, my
doubting spirit wished for the assistance of man in Christian guise who
might come to my rescue, or sink the pirate vessel, which contained me,
in the waves,--or that these in their mercy would engulph us. Then,
again, I hoped that my tears, and the sorrow which caused them, would
render me so unsightly that the tyrant to whom they bore me might
fly my sight with horror. Vain wishes, that my modesty had formed!
We arrived at the dreaded port; they conducted me to the palace; I
appeared before Mezzomorto.
"I know not what Aby Aly said on presenting me to his master, nor what
the latter replied, for they spoke in their own tongue; but I thought
I could perceive by the looks and gestures of the Dey that I had the
misfortune to please him. But what, after they had conversed thus
for some time, was addressed to me in my own language, completed my
despair by confirming me in the opinion I had formed.
[Illustration: Donna Theodora and Aby Aly before Mezzomorto]
"Vainly I cast myself before him, offering him whatever sum he chose to
name as my ransom; in vain did I tempt his avarice by the promise of
all that I possessed, or could command: he answered me by saying, that
I offered him in my own person more than all the riches in the world
could bestow. He then conducted me to this apartment, the most splendid
his palace contains, and from that hour to the present moment, he has
spared no pains to dispel the grief with which he sees me overcome. All
his slaves who either dance, sing, or play, have tried by his command
their skill before me. He removed from me Agnes, because he thought
that she served to remind me of my home, and I am now attended by two
aged female slaves, whose sole discourse is of love and the Dey, and of
the happiness which through his favour I may secure.
"Need I say, Don Juan, that all their efforts to divert my grief add
but to its intensity, and that nothing can console me? Captive in this
detestable palace, which resounds from day to day with the cries of
innocence oppressed, I suffer less from the mere loss of liberty than
from the terror which the hated tenderness of the Dey inspires. It is
true I have hitherto found in him but a lover gentle and respectful;
but I am not the less alarmed. I fear lest, wearied by a semblance of
devotion, which cannot but constrain him to put on, he should resume
the rights of power; and this fear agitates me without ceasing, making
of my life but one long torment."
As Donna Theodora finished these words, she wept; and her tears fell
like iron on the heart of poor Don Juan. "It is not without cause,"
he at last exclaimed, "that you look on the future with dread; I am,
myself, as much alarmed for it as you. The respect of the Dey is
melting faster than even you imagine; your submissive lover will soon
abandon all the mildness he assumes. Alas! I know too well the dangers
which surround you.
"But," he continued, his voice changing as he spoke, "shall I calmly
witness your dishonour? Slave though I be, he may feel the weight of my
despair. Before Mezzomorto injures you, I will plunge in his heart----"
"Ah! Don Juan," interrupted the widow of Cifuentes, "what dreadful
project do you dream of? For Heaven's sake, think of it no more! With
what dreadful cruelties would they avenge his death! Torments the most
refined--I cannot think of them without trembling! Besides, to what
end would you encounter such a peril? In taking the life of the Dey,
would you restore me to liberty? Alas! I should be sold to some other
tyrant who would treat me with less respect than Mezzomorto. No!" she
exclaimed, throwing herself on her knees, "it is thou, Almighty Father,
who canst alone protect me. Thou knowest my weakness, and the infamous
designs of him in whose power I am placed. Thou, who forbiddest me to
save myself by poison or the steel, Thou wilt save me in Thy justice
from a crime that is abhorrent in Thy sight."
"Yes, madam," replied Zarata, "Heaven will avert the misfortune with
which you are threatened! I feel already that it inspires me;--the
ideas which flash across my mind are doubtless prompted by its mercy.
Hear me! The Dey has permitted me to see you, only that I might induce
you to return his love. It is time that I rendered him an account of
our interview; and, in so doing, I shall deceive him. I will tell him
that your grief may be overcome; that his conduct towards you has
already won for him your esteem, and that, from a continuance in that
conduct, he has everything to hope. Do you assist me in my design? When
he comes next to visit you, let him find you less sorrowful than usual;
and appear, at least, to be interested in his conversation."
"What a task would you impose on me!" interrupted Donna Theodora. "How
is my soul, always frank and open, to assume such a disguise, and
what will be the fruit of so painful a deception?" "The Dey," replied
Zarata, "will be flattered by this change in your deportment, and
will be anxious to complete his conquest of you by gentle means. In
the meanwhile, I will endeavour to effect your freedom: it will be
difficult, I acknowledge; but I am acquainted with a slave on whose
address and enterprise some reliance may be placed.
"I leave you," he continued, "as no time is to be lost: we shall meet
again. I now go to the Dey; whose impetuous ardour I hope to restrain
by some well-invented fables. And you, madam, prepare to receive
him; constrain yourself to deceit. Let your eyes, which his presence
offends, display neither hatred nor pride; let your lips, which now
unclose but to express your affliction, form for him honeyed words of
respect; you must indirectly promise all, in order that you may concede
nothing." "Enough!" replied the lady, "I will do as you desire, since
the danger that impends over me compels me to this cruel necessity. Go!
Don Juan, employ all your thoughts to end my slavery: my freedom will
be doubly sweet, if owing to you."
As soon as the Toledan repaired to Mezzomorto, the latter cried with
great emotion: "Well! Alvaro, what news do you bring to me of my lovely
captive? Have you inclined her to listen to my vows? Tell me not that
her ceaseless grief refuses to yield to my tenderness; or I swear, by
the head of the Commander of the Faithful himself, that force shall
wring from her what affection cannot win." "Signor," replied Don Juan,
"that oath were useless now: you will have no need of violence to
gratify your passion. Your slave is young,--has never loved;--and she
whose pride disdained the offers of the noblest of her native land,
in which she lived as queen, and here exists in chains, may well ask
time to reconcile her haughty spirit to her new condition. This, proud
as she is, habit will soon effect; and even now, I dare affirm, the
yoke is felt less heavy: the kindness you have shown, the respectful
cares which she could never have expected from yourself, have already
lessened her misfortune, and must triumph over her disdain. Continue,
Signor, this gentle observance; continue--and complete the charm which
dissipates her grief, by new attentions to each fond caprice; and you
will shortly find her yield to your desires, and lose her love of
liberty, encircled in your arms."
"Your words enrapture me," exclaimed the Dey: "the hopes which you
inspire engage me to what you will. Yes! I will restrain my impatient
love, that I may satisfy it the more worthily. But, do you not deceive
me, or are you not deceived yourself? I will this moment see my lovely
mistress; I will endeavour to discern in her eyes some expression of
the flattering appearances you speak of." And so saying, he hastened to
seek Theodora; while the Toledan returned to the garden, where he found
the slave whose skill he proposed to employ in the liberation of the
widow of Cifuentes.
This slave, named Francisco, was a Navarrese, and was perfectly
acquainted with Algiers and its customs, having there served two
or three masters before he was purchased by the Dey as a gardener.
"Francisco, my friend," said Don Juan, accosting him, "you see me in
deep affliction. There is, in the harem of the Dey, a young lady of the
highest distinction of Valencia: she has entreated Mezzomorto to name
a ransom of any amount; but he refuses to do so, having fallen in love
with her." "And why should that annoy you so much?" asked Francisco.
"Because I come from the same town," replied the Toledan; "her
relations and my own are intimately connected; and there is nothing
which I would not do to restore her to liberty."
"Well! though that is no easy matter to accomplish," said Francisco,
"I dare undertake to bring it about, provided her relations are
disposed to come down pretty handsomely." "Be assured of that," replied
Don Juan; "I answer for their gratitude, and especially for her own.
Her name is Donna Theodora: she is the widow of a man who has left her
immense possessions, and she is generous as rich. For myself, I am a
Spaniard, and a noble; my word may suffice to convince you of what I
state."
"Well, again!" resumed the gardener: "on the faith of your word then,
I will seek a Catalonian renegade whom I know, and propose to him----"
"What say you?" interrupted the Toledan, in alarm;--"would you confide
in a wretch who has not been ashamed to abandon his religion for----"
"Although a renegade," interrupted Francisco, in his turn, "he is
nevertheless an honest man. He is rather deserving of your pity than
contempt; and, if the crime he has committed can be excused at all, I
think he may be pardoned. I will tell you his history in a few words.
"He was born in Barcelona, where he practised as a surgeon. Finding,
however, that he was worse off there than his patients, he resolved
to establish himself at Carthagena, thinking of course to better his
condition. He accordingly embarked with his mother, for that town;
but they were taken on the way by a pirate, who brought them hither.
They were sold; his mother to a Moor, and he to a Turk, who used him
so badly that he assumed the turban to release himself from slavery,
as also to enable him to free his parent, who was no better off in the
house of the Moor, her master. With this view, he entered into service
with the Dey, and made several voyages, in which he gained four hundred
patacoons: he employed a portion of this in the ransom of his mother;
and, to make the best use of the remainder, took it in his head to
scour the seas on his own account.
"Appointed captain, he purchased a small open vessel, and with some
Turkish seamen who had sailed with him before, he set out to cruize
between Alicant and Carthagena, and returned to Algiers, laden with
booty. He repeated this several times; and succeeded always so well
that at last he was able to arm a large vessel, with which he made
several prizes, but was in the end unfortunate. One day, he was
imprudent enough to attack a French frigate, which so mauled his ship
that it was with difficulty he escaped, and regained Algiers. As
pirates are judged here, like their betters elsewhere, according to
their success, the renegade gained the contempt of the Turks as the
reward of his misfortune. Disgusted by this injustice, he sold his
vessel, and retired to a house without the town; where, since then, he
has lived on the produce of his ship, and what remained of the fruits
of his former enterprises, in company with his mother, and attended by
several slaves.
"I often go to see him, for he served with me under my first master,
and we are intimate friends. He conceals nothing from me; and, only
three days ago, he told me, with tears in his eyes, that, despite his
wealth, he had known no peace since he had renounced his faith; that
to appease the remorse which preyed on him without ceasing, he was
sometimes tempted to trample his turban under foot, and, at the risk of
being burned alive, to repair, by a public avowal of his repentance,
the insult he had offered to the Mediator whom in secret he still
adored.
"Such is the renegade whom I am about to consult," continued Francisco:
"surely, a man like him may be trusted by you. I will seek him,
under pretext of going to the bagnio; I will represent to him, that
instead of consuming his life in vain regret at his exclusion from the
bosom of the church, he should act so as to assure his forgiveness
and reception; that to do this he has only to equip a vessel, as if,
disgusted with a life of inaction, he intended to resume his piracies;
and that, with this vessel, we may gain the coast of Valencia, where,
once arrived, Donna Theodora will give him wherewith to pass the
remainder of his life in tranquillity at Barcelona."
"Yes! my dear Francisco," cried Don Juan, transported with joy at the
hope thus raised by the Navarrese slave,--"yes! you may promise all
this, and more, to your renegade friend; both he and yourself may be
sure of a rich reward. But, do you conceive it possible to execute the
project you conceive?" "There may be difficulties," replied Francisco,
"which I do not contemplate; but, rely on it, that I and my friend will
overcome them all." "Alvaro," he added, as they parted, "I hope well
for our enterprise; and I trust that, when we meet again, I shall have
good news to tell you."
With what anxiety did the Toledan await the return of Francisco! At
last he came. "I have seen the renegade," he said, "and have opened
to him our design. After much deliberation, we have arranged that, to
save time, he shall purchase a vessel already fitted for sea; that, as
it is permitted to employ slaves as sailors, he shall take with him
those who now serve him; that, however, to guard against suspicion, he
shall also engage some dozen others, as if he really designed what he
pretended; but that, two days before the time fixed for his departure,
he shall embark, by night, with his own people, and weigh anchor, after
coming for us with his boat to a little door which leads from the
garden, close by the sea. This is our plan; of which you can inform
the captive lady, assuring her that in a fortnight from this time she
shall be free."
How great was the joy of Zarata, to be able to convey such welcome
intelligence to the Donna Theodora! To obtain permission to see her, on
the following day, he sought, without appearing to do so, Mezzomorto;
and, having met with him: "Signor," said he, "dare I enquire how
you have found your lovely slave? Are my hopes fulfilled?--" "I am
delighted," interrupted the Dey; "her eyes no longer shun the tender
glance of mine; her words, which heretofore presented but the picture
of her griefs, no longer breathe complaint; and for the first time, she
seemed to listen to my own without aversion.
"It is to you, Alvaro," he continued, "that I owe this happy change:
I see," he added, good-humouredly, "that you are in favour with the
ladies of your country. I will trust you, however, to speak with her
again, that you may finish well what you have so well begun. Exhaust
thy fertile genius to attain the bliss I seek, and thy chains are
turned to gold. Yes! I swear, by the spirit of our Holy Prophet, that
I will restore you to your home, so loaded with my favours, that your
Christian friends shall not believe you, when you tell them you return
from slavery."
The Toledan, although somewhat conscience-stricken, did not fail to
continue Mezzomorto in the flattering error he indulged. Affecting
gratitude for his kindness, and under pretext of hastening its
accomplishment, he left the Dey at once to see the charming slave; and,
finding her alone in her apartment, he lost no time in informing her of
what the Navarrese and the renegade intended on her behalf.
The lady was of course greatly delighted to hear that already such
strides were making towards her deliverance. "Is it possible," she
cried, "that I may hope again to see Valencia, my own dear native land?
Joy, joy!" she continued,--"after so many dangers and alarms, to live
in peace once more with you! Ah! Don Juan, this is happiness indeed!
Can I doubt that your heart partakes of it? Remember, Zarata, that, in
snatching me from the Dey, you bear away your wife!"
"Alas!" replied the Toledan, sighing deeply, "how delicious were those
words to my expecting soul, did not the remembrance of an unhappy
aspirant for thy love dash their sweet fragrance with alloy! Pardon
me, madam, that at such a moment I should think of aught but you! But
you must acknowledge that a friend like Mendoza merits thy pity as my
own. It was for thee he left Valencia; it was in search of thee that he
became a slave; and I feel sure that, at Tunis, he is not bowed down so
much by the weight of his chains, as with despair at failing to avenge
thee."
"He merited indeed a happier lot," said Donna Theodora; "and I call
Heaven to witness that I am deeply affected at what he suffers on my
account. Yes! I accuse myself of the pains which he endures; but, such
is my destiny, my heart can never be their recompense."
This conversation was interrupted by the coming of the two old dames
who attended on the widow of Cifuentes. Don Juan immediately assumed
the confidant of the Dey: "Yes, fair lady," said he to Theodora, "you
have deprived him of liberty who keeps you in chains. Mezzomorto, your
master and my own, the most loving and the most amiable of Turks, is
your slave. Treat him with the favour you now deign to show him, and
soon will a joyous end arrive to his sufferings and your own." Zarata
bowed respectfully as he pronounced these words, the purport of which
was well understood by the lady to whom they were addressed, and left
the apartment.
[Illustration: portrait of Mezzomorto]
During the following week, affairs remained in this position in the
palace of the Dey. In the meantime, however, the renegade had purchased
a small sloop, and was making preparations for its putting to sea; but,
six days before it was ready, a new subject for alarm occurred to Don
Juan.
Mezzomorto sent for him, and, taking him into his cabinet: "Alvaro,"
he said, "thou art free!--free to return when thou wilt to Spain; the
reward that I have promised now awaits thee. I have seen my lovely
slave this day;--ah! how unlike the creature whose sorrow filled my
breast with anguish! Daily does the feeling of captivity grow weaker;
and so bright are now her charms, that I have resolved at once to make
her mine: in two days she shall be my wife."
Don Juan changed colour at these words, and, with all the effort that
he made to constrain them, could not conceal his trouble and surprise
from the Dey, who asked him the cause of this emotion.
"Signor," replied the Toledan, with embarrassment, "I cannot control
my astonishment at hearing one of the greatest princes of the Ottoman
empire avow his intention of so far humbling himself as to wed with
a slave. I know that this is not without precedent; but, for the
illustrious Mezzomorto, who might aspire to the daughter of the
highest in the service of the Sultan, to"--"I agree to what you say,"
interrupted the Dey; "I might marry with the daughter of the Grand
Vizier, and even hope to succeed him in his office: but I have great
wealth, and small ambition. I prefer repose, and the delights I enjoy
here in my vice-royalty, to the dangerous honours to which we are no
sooner elevated, than the fear of our sovereign, or the jealousy of the
envious who surround him, prepares for us a fall. Besides, I love this
slave; and her beauty and virtue render her worthy of the rank to which
my affection calls her.
"It is however necessary," he added, "that she should at once renounce
her religion, to attain the honour for which I destine her. Think you
that absurd prejudices will induce her to despise that honour?" "No,
Signor," replied Don Juan; "I am persuaded that on reflection, she will
hold her faith as too small a sacrifice to your love. But, permit me to
say that this should not be proposed too hastily. There is no doubt
that the idea of abandoning the creed she lisped almost on her mother's
bosom will at first revolt her: give her therefore time to reflect
on the inducements to a change. When she remembers that, instead of
using your power over her person, and then abandoning her to grow old
among the neglected slaves of your caprice, you seek to unite her to
yourself for ever, by a marriage which crowns her with honour, her
gratitude--her woman's vanity--will by degrees vanquish her scruples.
Defer therefore for a week, at least, the execution of your design."
The Dey remained for some time in deep thought: the delay that his
confidant proposed suited but ill to his desires; nevertheless, the
counsel appeared judicious. "I yield to your advice, Alvaro," at last
he said, "impatient as I am to press the lovely captive to my heart. I
will wait a week, as you request. Go!" he continued, "see her at once,
and dispose her to fulfil my wishes, when that time shall have passed.
I am anxious that Alvaro, who so well has tutored the fair one to my
will, should have the honour of tendering to her my hand."
Don Juan hastened to the apartment of Theodora, and informed her of
what had passed between the Dey and himself, that she might conduct
herself accordingly. He also informed her that in six days the vessel
would be ready; and, as she was anxious to know how, when the time
arrived, she was to escape, seeing that all the doors of the rooms
she had to traverse, in the usual way of reaching the staircase, were
well secured: "Let not that embarrass you," he answered; "a window of
your ante-room looks upon the garden; and you may thence descend, by a
ladder which I will take care to provide."
The six days added their units to eternity, and Francisco informed the
Toledan that the renegade was prepared to sail on the coming night:
you may guess with what impatience it was expected. It came, and,
graciously for the fugitives, shrouded in its thickest mantle to cover
their flight. At the appointed moment, Don Juan placed the ladder
against the window of the ante-room, and the watchful captive hastened
to descend, trembling with agitation and suspense. She reached the
ground in safety, and leaning on the arm of the Toledan, the latter
lost no time in conducting her to the little door which opened on the
sea.
[Illustration: Donna Theodora descends the ladder]
They walked with hasty steps, enjoying, by anticipation, the happiness
of recovered freedom; but fortune, not even now disposed to favour
these unhappy lovers, plunged them into grief more dire than they had
yet experienced, and of a nature that they least expected.
[Illustration: Donna Theodora and Zarata hurry away]
They had already left the garden, and were advancing to the shore,
where the sloop awaited them, when a man whom they took for an
accomplice in their escape, and of whom, therefore, they had no
suspicion, came upon Don Juan, sword in hand, and thrust it in his
breast. "Perfidious Alvaro Ponza!" he exclaimed, "it is thus that Don
Fabricio de Mendoza punishes a base seducer: you deserve not that I
should attack you openly as an honest man."
The Toledan could not resist the force of the blow, which stretched
him on the earth; and, at the same moment, Donna Theodora, whom he
supported, struck with surprise, with grief and fear, fell in a swoon
beside him. "Ah! Mendoza," cried Don Juan, "what have you done? It
is your friend whose bosom you have pierced!" "Gracious Heaven!"
exclaimed Don Fabricio, "is it possible that I have assassinated----"
"I pardon you my death," interrupted Zarata; "destiny is alone to
blame, or rather it has so willed it, to end our misfortunes. Yes! my
dear Mendoza, I die contented, since I restore to your hands the Donna
Theodora, who will convince you that my friendship for you has never
belied itself for an instant."
[Illustration: Zarata stabbed by Mendoza]
"Too generous friend," said Don Fabricio, prompted by a feeling of
despair, "you shall not die alone; the same point which wounded you
shall punish your assassin: if my error may excuse my crime, it cannot
console me for its committal." As he spoke, he turned his sword against
his breast, plunged it therein nearly to the hilt, and fell upon the
body of Don Juan, who fainted less from loss of blood, than from horror
at the frenzy of his friend.
Francisco and the renegade, who were not ten paces from the spot, and
who had their reasons for not having defended the slave Alvaro, were
amazed to hear the last words of Don Fabricio, and still more so to
witness his last act. They had heard enough, however, to know that he
had been mistaken, and that the wounded pair were friends, instead of
deadly enemies, as they had believed. They now therefore hastened to
their assistance; but, finding them both senseless, as also the Donna
Theodora, they were at a loss how to proceed. Francisco advised that
they should content themselves with bearing off the lady, leaving the
two cavaliers on the shore; where, according to him, if they were not
already dead, they would soon be so. The renegade, however, was not
of this opinion: he said that it would be cruel to abandon the two
unfortunates; that their wounds were probably not mortal, and that
he would look to them when on board his vessel, where he had been
provident enough to stow away all the implements of his ancient trade.
To this, Francisco made no objection; so, as they both agreed that
there was no inducement to stay where they were, by the assistance
of some slaves, they carried the unhappy widow of Cifuentes, and her
still more unfortunate lovers, to the boat, and soon joined their ship.
There, no time was lost in spreading the sails; while some upon their
knees poured forth to Heaven the most fervent prayers which fear could
suggest, that they might escape the cruisers of the Dey.
[Illustration: Theodora, Zarata and Mendoza are carried to the boat]
The renegade, having left the management of the vessel to a French
slave whom he could trust, gave his attention to his passengers. The
lady, of course, claimed his first care; and, having restored her to
life, he took his measures so skilfully, that Don Fabricio and the
Toledan also speedily recovered their senses. Donna Theodora, who had
swooned the instant Don Juan was struck, was greatly astonished on her
recovery to behold Mendoza; and, although she soon comprehended that
the latter had wounded himself for having incautiously assailed his
friend, she could not look upon him but as the murderer of the man she
loved.
"You would have been affected, Don Cleophas, could you have seen these
three persons at the moment I speak of: the deathlike stillness from
which they had emerged would not have commanded half your pity. There
was Donna Theodora, gazing on Don Juan with eyes which spoke all
the feelings of a soul filled with grief and despair; while the two
friends, each fondly turning upon her their dying looks, were striving
to control the sighs which rent their hearts."
The scene lasted for some time in silence, which Mendoza was the first
to break. "Madam," said he, addressing Donna Theodora, "I die; but I
have the satisfaction of knowing you are free. Would to Heaven that
thy liberty were owing to myself! But it has decreed that you should
owe that obligation to him whose image you cherish in your heart. I
love too much my rival to complain; and trust that the blow which my
blindness dealt may be too light to prevent his sweet reward." The lady
answered not this touching speech. Insensible, for the time, to the
fate of Mendoza, she could not restrain the feelings of aversion which
the condition of the Toledan, over whom she hung, inspired in her bosom
towards him who had caused it.
The regenade surgeon now examined and probed the wounds of the two
friends. Beginning with Zarata, he pronounced it favourable, inasmuch
as the sword had only glanced through the muscles of the left breast,
without touching any of the vital parts. This report, while it lessened
the grief of Donna Theodora, gave great delight to Don Fabricio, who,
turning his head towards the lady, exclaimed, "Madam, I die without
regret, since the life of my friend is out of danger: you will forgive
me now."
He pronounced these words with so much pathos, that the widow of
Cifuentes was moved beyond expression. As she no longer feared for Don
Juan, she ceased to hate Mendoza, and beheld in him now but an object
of the deepest pity. "Ah! Don Fabricio," she exclaimed, her generous
nature resuming its influence, "let them attend to your wound; it is,
I trust, not more dangerous than that of your friend. Let not your
feelings interfere to render the cares of those who love you useless.
Live!--if I cannot yield felicity to you, at least I will never bestow
it on another. Friendship and compassion shall restrain the hand that I
would give to Don Juan: I will sacrifice for you, as he has done, the
dearest wishes of my heart."
[Illustration: Mendoza addresses Donna Theodora]
Don Fabricio would have replied; but the surgeon, fearing that in his
case, as in trouble generally, talking would only increase the ill,
imposed silence, while he examined his wound. On so doing, he saw that
it was likely to prove mortal, as the sword had penetrated the lungs,
and the consequent loss of blood had been excessive. Having however
dressed it with care, he left the cavaliers to repose; and that a
matter so essential to them, in their present state, might be secured,
he took with him, as he left the cabin, Donna Theodora, whose presence
seemed likely to disturb it.
But despite all these precautions, Mendoza was seized with fever, and
towards midnight the wound began to bleed afresh. The renegade then
thought it right to inform him that all hope of recovery was over, and
that, if he had anything which he wished to communicate to his friend,
or to Donna Theodora, he had no time to lose. The Toledan was greatly
affected on hearing the declaration of the surgeon: for Don Fabricio,
he listened to it with indifference. He calmly requested that the
regenade would summon the widow of Cifuentes to his side.
Donna Theodora hastened to the dying man, in a state more easy to
conceive than to describe: tears streamed down her cheeks, and sobs
choked her utterance;--so violent was her affliction, that Mendoza
could not repress his agitation at the sight. "Madam," he exclaimed, "I
am unworthy of the precious drops which dim those lovely eyes: restrain
them, I entreat you, and listen to me for a few moments. And you also,
my dear Zarata," he continued, observing the excess of grief in which
his friend indulged, "control your feelings for a while, and hear
me. I well know that to you this separation is a painful shock; your
friendship is too well assured for me to doubt it; but wait, both of
you, until the earth shall have hidden me from your sight; and honour,
with those marks of tenderness and pity, my silent grave.
"Suspend until then your affliction; I feel it now more than the loss
of life. Let me relate to you the way by which the fate that pursues me
conducted me this night to the fatal shore which I have stained with
the blood of my friend, and my own. You must be anxious to learn how it
happened that I mistook Don Juan for Alvaro; I will tell you, if the
short time which it is permitted me to live will enable me to do so.
"Some hours after the vessel in which I was had quitted that wherein
I had left Don Juan, we met a French privateer, which attacked and
took the Tunisian pirate, and landed us near Alicant. I was no sooner
free, than I thought on the ransom of my friend; and, to effect this
I went to Valencia to obtain the necessary funds. There, learning
that at Barcelona some brothers of the Holy Order of Redemption
were just about to sail for Algiers, I set out for the former town.
Before leaving Valencia, however, I begged my uncle the governor, Don
Francisco de Mendoza, to use all his influence with the court of Madrid
to obtain the pardon of Zarata, that, on his return with me, he might
be reinstated in his former possessions, which had been confiscated in
consequence of the death of the Duke of Naxera.
"As soon as we had arrived at Algiers, I went to all the places
frequented by the slaves; but in vain did I run them through, I
found not the object of my search. This morning, I met the regenade
Catalonian, to whom this vessel belongs, and whom I recognized as a man
who had formerly attended my uncle. I told him the motive of my voyage,
and requested him to make strict inquiry for my friend. 'I am sorry,'
he replied, 'that it is out of my power to serve you. I leave Algiers
to-night, with a lady of Valencia, one of the Dey's slaves.' 'And who
is this lady,' I demanded. 'She is called the Donna Theodora,' was his
startling answer.
"The surprise which I exhibited at this information told the regenade
at once that I was interested in this lady's fate. He therefore
informed me of the design which he had formed for her liberation;
and as, during his recital, he mentioned the slave Alvaro, I had no
doubt that it was Alvaro Ponza himself of whom he spoke. When he had
finished: 'Assist me in my resentment!' I exclaimed, with transport;
'furnish me with the means of avenging myself upon my enemy!' 'You
shall soon be satisfied,' replied the regenade; 'but, tell me first
what subject of complaint you have against this same Alvaro.' I related
to him all our history; which, when he had heard: 'Enough!' he cried,
'you shall accompany me to-night. They will point out to you your
rival; and, when you have punished him for his villany, you shall take
his place, and join with us in conducting Donna Theodora to Valencia.'
"Nevertheless, my impatience did not cause me to forget Don Juan. I
left the money for his ransom in the hands of Francisco Capati, an
Italian merchant, who resides at Algiers, and who promised me to effect
it, if by any means he could discover him. At last, the night arrived;
I went to the house of the regenade, who led me, as he had promised
to the sea shore. We concealed ourselves near a little door, whence
shortly issued a man who came directly towards us, and, pointing to two
persons who followed him, said 'There are Alvaro and Donna Theodora.'
"Furious at this sight, I drew my sword, ran to meet the unfortunate
Alvaro, and, imagining that it was my hated rival whom I struck, I
thrust my weapon into the bosom of the faithful friend whom I had come
to seek. But, Heaven be praised!" he continued with emotion, "my error
will not cost him his life, nor cause eternal grief to Donna Theodora."
"Ah! Mendoza," interrupted the lady, "you do injustice to my
tears; never shall I console myself for your own loss. Even should
I espouse your friend, it will be only to unite our griefs: your
love, your friendship, your misfortunes will ever be present to our
recollection,--the sole topic for our tongues." "It is too much,
madam," replied Don Fabrido; "I am not worthy thus to trouble thy
repose. Permit, I entreat thee, Zarata to call thee his, on the day
when he shall have revenged thy wrongs on Alvaro Ponza." "Don Alvaro,"
said the widow of Cifuentes, "is no more; on the same day that he
forced me from my home, he was killed by the pirate who enslaved me."
"Madam," replied Mendoza, "my wavering soul rejoices at the welcome
news; my friend will be the sooner happy. Follow without control your
mutual inclinations. I see, with joy, the hour approach which removes
from you, for ever, the obstacle which your generous compassion has
raised against your happiness. May your days glide in peace, and in
an union which the envy of fortune may never dare to trouble! Adieu,
Madam;--adieu, Don Juan!--think sometimes, in your joy, of one who has
never loved but you."
Donna Theodora and the Toledan were unable to reply to this
affectionate address, except by tears, which redoubled as he spoke.
Mendoza, therefore, perceiving their grief, thus continued: "But I have
done with earth! Death already points me out my way; and I have not yet
supplicated the Divine mercy to pardon me for having, by my own folly,
shortened a life of which it should have alone disposed." He spoke no
more; but, raising his eyes to Heaven, appeared to be engaged in mental
prayer for its forgiveness; when a gurgling in his throat told that a
last outbreaking of his wound had taken place, and he expired.
Don Juan, as he heard the fatal rattling which indicated what was
passing, was maddened with despair. His hands sought his own wound;
and tearing it open, he would have soon joined his friend, but that
the renegade and Francisco threw themselves upon him, and withheld his
fury: Donna Theodora, woman-like, forgetful of her own woes at sight of
the transport of the Toledan, hastened to soothe him by her tenderness;
and--what will not love do?--soon brought him to himself: in short, the
lover triumphed over the friend. But, if reason regained its sway, it
was only to resist the insensate frenzy of his grief, and not to weaken
its sentiment.
The renegade, who, among the many things which he was bearing from
Algiers, happened to have balsam of Arabia, and other precious
requisites, undertook to embalm the body of Mendoza, at the request of
Donna Theodora and her now unrivalled lover; who were anxious to render
to their friend's remains all proper honours of sepulture at Valencia.
Love, with them, did nothing but sigh and moan, during the voyage; not
so, however, with their companions: they were rejoiced by favourable
winds, which soon brought them in sight of the coast of Spain, to the
inexpressible delight of those, which included the whole crew, who had
never expected to behold it again.
When the vessel had happily arrived at the port of Denia, every one
took his own course. For the widow of Cifuentes and the Toledan, they
sent a courier to Valencia, with letters for the governor and the
friends of Donna Theodora. Alas! while the intelligence of the return
of this lady brought joy to her relations, that of the death of his
nephew caused the deepest affliction to Don Francisco de Mendoza.
The poor old man, accompanied by the relatives of the released lady,
lost no time in repairing to Denia; and there, insisting on beholding
the body of the unhappy Don Fabricio, he bathed it with his tears,
uttering such deep complaints as melted the hearts of the beholders.
Then, turning to the Toledan, he requested to be informed of the
unfortunate events which had brought his nephew to so sad an end.
[Illustration: Don Francisco de Mendoza mourning his nephew]
"I will tell you," replied Zarata: "far from seeking to efface them
from my memory, I feel a mournful pleasure in recalling them to my
mind, and in indulging my grief." He then related to Don Francisco
all that had occurred; and this recital, while it brought fresh
tears to his own eyes, added to those which flowed from those of his
aged listener. Meanwhile the friends of Theodora were occupied in
testifying the delight which was elidted by her unexpected return, and
in felicitating her on the miraculous manner in which she had been
delivered from the tyranny of Mezzomorto.
After all things had been satisfactorily explained, they placed the
body of Don Fabricio in a hearse, and bore it to Valencia. It was not,
however, buried there, because, as the period of the vice-royalty of
Don Francisco was nearly expired, that nobleman was preparing to return
to Madrid, where he had resolved that his nephew should be interred.
While the preparations for the funeral were making, the widow of
Cifuentes was employed in loading Francisco and the renegade with the
fruits of her gratitude. The Navarrese retired to his own province,
and the surgeon returned with his mother to Barcelona, where he sought
once more the bosom of the church, in which he lives to this day snugly
enough. And now, when all was completed, Don Francisco received an
express from the court, conveying the pardon of Don Juan, which the
king, notwithstanding his consideration for the house of Naxera, had
been unable to refuse to all the Mendozas who had united to ask the
grace. This pardon was the more welcome to the Toledan, inasmuch as it
gave him liberty to accompany the body of his friend to its last home,
which he would not otherwise have dared to do.
At last the sorrowful procession, attended by a numerous concourse of
noble mourners, set out for Madrid; where it was no sooner arrived,
than all that remained of Don Fabricio was deposited in yonder church,
where Zarata and the Donna Theodora, with the permission of the
Mendozas, erected a splendid monument to his memory. Nor did they bury
their grief with their friend: they bore at least its outward sign for
the unusual space of an entire year, that the world might know how
deeply they deplored his loss.
[Illustration: Zarata falls from his horse]
After having exhibited such signal proofs of their affection for
Mendoza, they married; but by an inconceivable effort of the force of
friendship, Don Juan for a length of time still preserved a melancholy
that not even love could banish. Don Fabricio, his dear Don Fabricio,
was ever present in his thoughts by day; and, by night, he saw him in
his dreams, and mostly as he had beheld him when the last sigh escaped
him. His mind, however, began to be relieved from these saddening
visions,--the charms of his beloved Theodora, which had ever possessed
his soul, commenced their triumph over his baneful remembrances; in
short, Don Juan once more touched upon happiness. But, a few days
since, while hunting, he was thrown from his horse, fell upon his head,
and fractured his skull. Physicians could not save him; he is just
dead: and it is Theodora whom you see, in the arms of the two women,
and who will probably soon follow him to the grave.