in her sixteenth year her grandmother brought her to Madrid, to the
usual camping-ground of the gipsies, in the fields of Santa Barbara.
Madrid seemed to her the most likely place to find customers; for there
everything is bought and sold. Preciosa made her first appearance in the
capital on the festival of Santa Anna, the patroness of the city, when
she took part in a dance performed by eight gitanas, with one gitano, an
excellent dancer, to lead them. The others were all very well, but such
was the elegance of Preciosa, that she fascinated the eyes of all the
spectators. Amidst the sound of the tambourine and castanets, in the
heat of the dance, a murmur of admiration arose for the beauty and grace
of Preciosa; but when they heard her sing--for the dance was accompanied
with song--the fame of the gitana reached its highest point; and by
common consent the jewel offered as the prize of the best dancer in that
festival was adjudged to her. After the usual dance in the church of
Santa Maria, before the image of the glorious Santa Anna, Preciosa
caught up a tambourine, well furnished with bells, and having cleared a
wide circle around her with pirouettes of exceeding lightness, she sang
a hymn to the patroness of the day. It was the admiration of all who
heard her. Some said, "God bless the girl!" Others, "'Tis a pity that
this maiden is a gitana: truly she deserves to be the daughter of some
great lord!" Others more coarsely observed, "Let the wench grow up, and
she will show you pretty tricks; she is closing the meshes of a very
nice net to fish for hearts." Another more good-natured but ill-bred
and stupid, seeing her foot it so lightly, "Keep it up! keep it up!
Courage, darling! Grind the dust to atoms!" "Never fear," she answered,
without losing a step; "I'll grind it to atoms."
At the vespers and feast of Santa Anna Preciosa was somewhat fatigued;
but so celebrated had she become for beauty, wit, and discretion, as
well as for her dancing, that nothing else was talked of throughout the
capital. A fortnight afterwards, she returned to Madrid, with three
other girls, provided with their tambourines and a new dance, besides a
new stock of romances and songs, but all of a moral character; for
Preciosa would never permit those in her company to sing immodest songs,
nor would she ever sing them herself. The old gitana came with her, for
she now watched her as closely as Argus, and never left her side, lest
some one should carry her off. She called her granddaughter, and the
girl believed herself to be her grandchild.
The young gitanas began their dance in the shade, in the Calle de
Toledo, and were soon encircled by a crowd of spectators. Whilst they
danced, the old woman gathered money among the bystanders, and they
showered it down like stones on the highway; for beauty has such power
that it can awaken slumbering charity. The dance over, Preciosa said,
"If you will give me four quartos, I will sing by myself a beautiful
romance about the churching of our lady the Queen Doña Margarita. It is
a famous composition, by a poet of renown, one who may be called a
captain in the battalion of poets." No sooner had she said this, than
almost every one in the ring cried out, "Sing it, Preciosa; here are my
four quartos;" and so many quartos were thrown down for her, that the
old gitana had not hands enough to pick them up. When the gathering was
ended, Preciosa resumed her tambourine, and sang the promised romance,
which was loudly encored, the whole audience crying out with one voice,
"Sing again, Preciosa, sing again, and dance for us, girl: thou shalt
not want quartos, whilst thou hast the ground beneath thy feet."
Whilst more than two hundred persons were thus looking on at the dance,
and listening to the singing of the gitana, one of the lieutenants of
the city passed by; and seeing so many people together, he asked what
was the occasion of the crowd. Being told that the handsome gitana was
singing there, the lieutenant, who was not without curiosity, drew near
also to listen, but in consideration of his dignity, he did not wait for
the end of the romance. The gitanilla, however, pleased him so much,
that he sent his page to tell the old crone to come to his house that
evening with her troop, as he wished his wife Doña Clara to hear them.
The page delivered the message, and the old gitana promised to attend.
After the performance was ended, and the performers were going
elsewhere, a very well-dressed page came up to Preciosa, and giving her
a folded paper, said, "Pretty Preciosa, will you sing this romance? It
is a very good one, and I will give you others from time to time, by
which you will acquire the fame of having the best romances in the
world."
"I will learn this one with much willingness," replied Preciosa; "and be
sure, señor, you bring me the others you speak of, but on condition that
there is nothing improper in them. If you wish to be paid for them, we
will agree for them by the dozen; but do not expect to be paid in
advance; that will be impossible. When a dozen have been sung, the money
for a dozen shall be forthcoming."
"If the Señora Preciosa only pays me for the paper," said the page, "I
shall be content. Moreover, any romance which does not turn out so well
shall not be counted."
"I will retain the right of choice," said Preciosa; and then she
continued her way with her companions up the street, when some gentlemen
called and beckoned to them from a latticed window. Preciosa went up and
looked through the window, which was near the ground, into a cheerful,
well-furnished apartment, in which several cavaliers were walking about,
and others playing at various games. "Will you give me a share of your
winnings, señors?" said Preciosa, in the lisping accent of the gipsies,
which she spoke not by nature but from choice. At the sight of Preciosa,
and at the sound of her voice, the players quitted the tables, the rest
left off lounging, and all thronged to the window, for her fame had
already reached them. "Come in! Let the little gipsies come in," said
the cavaliers, gaily; "we will certainly give them a share of our
winnings."
"But you might make it cost us dear, señors," said Preciosa.
"No, on the honour of gentlemen," said one, "you may come in, niña, in
full security that no one will touch the sole of your shoe. I swear this
to you by the order I wear on my breast;" and as he spoke he laid his
hand on the cross of the order of Calatrava which he wore.
"If you like to go in, Preciosa," said one of the gitanillas who were
with her, "do so by all means; but I do not choose to go where there are
so many men."
"Look you, Christina," answered Preciosa, "what you have to beware of is
one man alone; where there are so many there is nothing to fear. Of one
thing you may be sure, Christina; the woman who is resolved to be
upright may be so amongst an army of soldiers. It is well, indeed, to
avoid occasions of temptation, but it is not in crowded rooms like this
that danger lurks."
"Well then, let us go in, Preciosa," said her companion, "you know more
than a witch."
The old gipsy also encouraged them to go in, and that decided the
question. As soon as they had entered the room, the cavalier of the
order, seeing the paper which Preciosa carried, stretched out his hand
to take it. "Do not take it from me," she said: "It is a romance but
just given to me, and which I have not yet had time to read."
"And do you know how to read, my girl?" said one of the cavaliers.
"Ay, and to write too," said the old woman. "I have brought up my
grandchild as if she was a lawyer's daughter."
The cavalier opened the paper, and finding a gold crown inclosed in it,
said, "Truly, Preciosa, the contents of this letter are worth the
postage. Here is a crown inclosed in the romance."
"The poet has treated me like a beggar," said Preciosa; "but it is
certainly a greater marvel for one of his trade to give a crown than for
one of mine to receive it. If his romances come to me with this
addition, he may transscribe the whole _Romancero General_ and send me
every piece in it one by one. I will weigh their merit; and if I find
there is good matter in them, I will not reject them. Read the paper
aloud, señor, that we may see if the poet is as wise as he is liberal."
The cavalier accordingly read as follows:--
Sweet gipsy girl, whom envy's self
Must own of all fair maids the fairest,
Ah! well befits thy stony heart
The name thou, Preciosa,[66] bearest.
If as in beauty, so in pride
And cruelty thou grow to sight,
Woe worth the land, woe worth the age
Which brought thy fatal charms to light.
A basilisk in thee we see,
Which fascinates our gaze and kills.
No empire mild is thine, but one
That tyrannises o'er our wills.
How grew such charms 'mid gipsy tribes,
From roughest blasts without a shield?
How such a perfect chrysolite
Could humble Manzanares yield?
River, for this thou shalt be famed,
Like Tagus with its golden show,
And more for Preciosa prized
Than Ganges with its lavish flow.
In telling fortunes who can say
What dupes to ruin thou beguilest?
Good luck thou speak'st with smiling lips.
But luckless they on whom thou smilest!
Tis said they're witches every one,
The women of the gipsy race;
And all men may too plainly see
That thou hast witchcraft in thy face.
A thousand different modes are thine
To turn the brain; for rest or move,
Speak, sing, be mute, approach, retire,
Thou kindlest still the fire of love.
The freest hearts bend to thy sway,
And lose the pride of liberty;
Bear witness mine, thy captive thrall,
Which would not, if it could, be free.
These lines, thou precious gem of love,
Whose praise all power of verse transcend,
He who for thee will live or die,
Thy poor and humble lover sends.
[66] Piedra preciosa, precious stone.
"The poem ends with 'poor' in the last line," said Preciosa; "and that
is a bad sign. Lovers should never begin by saying that they are poor,
for poverty, it strikes me, is a great enemy to love."
"Who teaches you these things, girl?" said one of the cavaliers.
"Who should teach me?" she replied. "Have I not a soul in my body? Am I
not fifteen years of age? I am neither lame, nor halt, nor maimed in my
understanding. The wit of a gipsy girl steers by a different compass
from that which guides other people. They are always forward for their
years. There is no such thing as a stupid gitano, or a silly gitana.
Since it is only by being sharp and ready that they can earn a
livelihood, they polish their wits at every step, and by no means let
the moss grow under their feet. You see these girls, my companions, who
are so silent. You may think they are simpletons, but put your fingers
in their mouths to see if they have cut their wise teeth; and then you
shall see what you shall see. There is not a gipsy girl of twelve who
does not know as much as one of another race at five-and-twenty, for
they have the devil and much practice for instructors, so that they
learn in one hour what would otherwise take them a year."
The company were much amused by the gitana's chat, and all gave her
money. The old woman sacked thirty reals, and went off with her flock as
merry as a cricket to the house of the señor lieutenant, after promising
that she would return with them another day to please such liberal
gentlemen. Doña Clara, the lieutenant's lady, had been apprised of the
intended visit of the gipsies, and she and her doncellas and dueñas, as
well as those of another señora, her neighbour, were expecting them as
eagerly as one looks for a shower in May. They had come to see Preciosa.
She entered with her companions, shining among them like a torch among
lesser lights, and all the ladies pressed towards her. Some kissed her,
some gazed at her; others blessed her sweet face, others her graceful
carriage. "This, indeed, is what you may call golden hair," cried Doña
Clara; "these are truly emerald eyes."[67] The señora, her neighbour,
examined the gitanilla piecemeal. She made a _pepetoria_[68] of all her
joints and members, and coming at last to a dimple in her chin, she
said, "Oh, what a dimple! it is a pit into which all eyes that behold it
must fall." Thereupon an esquire in attendance on Doña Clara, an elderly
gentleman with a long beard, exclaimed, "Call you this a dimple, señora?
I know little of dimples then if this be one. It is no dimple, but a
grave of living desires. I vow to God the gitanilla is such a dainty
creature, she could not be better if she was made of silver or sugar
paste. Do you know how to tell fortunes, niña?"
[67] It is hard to say what "exquisite reason" Cervantes can have had
for likening a girl's eyes to emeralds above all other gems. He uses the
phrase elsewhere, apparently without any ironical meaning.
[68] A dish, in which a fowl is served up disjointed.
"That I do, and in three or four different manners," replied Preciosa.
"You can do that too?" exclaimed Doña Clara. "By the life of my lord the
lieutenant, you must tell me mine, niña of gold, niña of silver, niña of
pearls, niña of carbuncles, niña of heaven, and more than that cannot be
said."
"Give the niña the palm of your hand, señora, and something to cross it
with," said the old gipsy; "and you will see what things she will tell
you, for she knows more than a doctor of medicine."
The señora Tenienta[69] put her hand in her pocket, but found it empty;
she asked for the loan of a quarto from her maids, but none of them had
one, neither had the señora her neighbour. Preciosa seeing this, said,
"For the matter of crosses all are good, but those made with silver or
gold are best. As for making the sign of the cross with copper money,
that, ladies, you must know lessens the luck, at least it does mine. I
always like to begin by crossing the palm with a good gold crown, or a
piece of eight, or at least a quarto, for, I am like the sacristans who
rejoice when there is a good collection."
[69] The wife of the _teniente_, or lieutenant. "
and you ask
for two-and-twenty maravedis? Go your ways, Contreras, for a tiresome
blockhead, as you always were."
"How witty you are," said the lady visitor; then turning to the squire,
"Do you happen to have a quarto about you, Señor Contreras? if you have,
give it me, and when my husband the doctor comes you shall have it
again."
"I have one," replied Contreras, "but it is pledged for two-and-twenty
maravedis for my supper; give me so much and I will fly to fetch it."
"We have not a quarto amongst us all," said Doña Clara, "and you ask
for two-and-twenty maravedis? Go your ways, Contreras, for a tiresome
blockhead, as you always were."
One of the damsels present, seeing the penury of the house, said to
Preciosa, "Niña, will it be of any use to make the cross with a silver
thimble?"
"Certainly," said Preciosa; "the best crosses in the world are made with
silver thimbles, provided there are plenty of them."
"I have one," said the doncella; "if that is enough, here it is, on
condition that my fortune be told too."
"So many fortunes to be told for a thimble!" exclaimed the old gipsy.
"Make haste, granddaughter, for it will soon be night." Preciosa took
the thimble, and began her sooth saying.
Pretty lady, pretty lady,
With a hand as silver fair,
How thy husband dearly loves thee
'Tis superfluous to declare.
Thou'rt a dove, all milk of kindness;
Yet at times too thou canst be
Wrathful as a tiger, or a
Lioness of Barbary.
Thou canst show thy teeth when jealous;
Truly the lieutenant's sly;
Loves with furtive sports to vary
Magisterial gravity.
What a pity! One worth having
Woo'd thee when a maiden fair.
Plague upon all interlopers!
You'd have made a charming pair.
Sooth, I do not like to say it,
Yet it may as well be said;
Thou wilt be a buxom widow;
Twice again shalt thou be wed.
Do not weep, my sweet senora;
We gitanas, you must know,
Speak not always true as gospel
Weep not then sweet lady so.
If the thought is too distressing,
Losing such a tender mate,
Thou hast but to die before him,
To escape a widow's fate.
Wealth abundant thou'lt inherit,
And that quickly, never fear:
Thou shalt have a son, a canon,
--Of what church does not appear;
Not Toledo; no, that can't be;
And a daughter--let me see--
Ay, she'll rise to be an abbess;
--That is, if a nun she be.
If thy husband do not drop off
From this moment in weeks four,
Burgos him, or Salamanca,
Shall behold corregidor.
Meanwhile keep thyself from tripping:
Where thou walkest, many a snare
For the feet of pretty ladies
Naughty gallants lay: beware!
Other things still more surprising
Shall on Friday next be told,
Things to startle and delight thee,
When I've crossed thy palm with gold.
Preciosa having finished this oracular descant for the lady of the
house, the rest of the company were all eager to have their fortunes
told likewise, but she put them off till the next Friday, when they
promised to have silver coin ready for crossing their palms. The señor
lieutenant now came in, and heard a glowing account of the charms and
accomplishments of the leading gitana. Having made her and her
companions dance a little, he emphatically confirmed the encomiums
bestowed on Preciosa; and putting his hand in his pocket he groped and
rummaged about in it for a while, but at last drew his hand out empty,
saying, "Upon my life I have not a doit. Give Preciosa a real, Doña
Clara; I will give it you by and by."
"That is all very well, señor," the lady replied; "but where is the real
to come from? Amongst us all we could not find a quarto to cross our
hands with."
"Well, give her some trinket or another, that Preciosa may come another
day to see us, when we will treat her better."
"No," said Doña Clara, "I will give her nothing to-day, and I shall be
sure she will come again."
"On the contrary," said Preciosa, "if you give me nothing. I will never
come here any more. Sell justice, señor lieutenant, sell justice, and
then you will have money. Do not introduce new customs, but do as other
magistrates do, or you will die of hunger. Look you, señor, I have heard
say that money enough may be made of one's office to pay any mulets that
may be incurred,[70] and to help one to other appointments."
[70] It was formerly the custom in Spain that a civil officer on giving
up his post, should remain for a certain time in the place where he had
served, to answer any charges of maladministration that might be brought
against him.
"So say and do those who have no conscience," said the lieutenant; "but
the judge who does his duty will have no mulet to pay; and to have well
discharged his office, will be his best help to obtain another."
"Your worship speaks like a very saint," replied Preciosa; "proceed
thus, and we shall snip pieces off your old coats for relics."
"You know a great deal, Preciosa," said the lieutenant; "say no more,
and I will contrive that their majesties shall see you, for you are fit
to be shown to a king."
"They will want me for a court fool," said the gitanilla, "and as I
never shall learn the trade, your pains will be all for nothing. If they
wanted me for my cleverness, they might have me; but in some palaces
fools thrive better than the wise. I am content to be a gitana, and
poor, and let Heaven dispose of me as it pleases."
"Come along, niña," said the old gipsy; "say no more, you have said a
great deal already, and know more than I ever taught you. Don't put too
fine a point to your wit for fear it should get blunted; speak of things
suitable to your years; and don't set yourself on the high ropes, lest
you should chance to have a fall."
"The deuce is in these gitanas," said the delighted lieutenant, as they
were taking their leave. The doncella of the thimble stopped them for a
moment, saying to Preciosa, "Tell me my fortune, or give me back my
thimble, for I have not another to work with."
"Señora doncella," replied Preciosa, "count upon your fortune as if it
were already told, and provide yourself with another; or else sew no
more gussets until I come again on Friday, when I will tell you more
fortunes and adventures than you could read in any book of knight
errantry."
The gipsies went away, and falling in with numerous workwomen returning
from Madrid to their villages as usual at the Ave Maria, they joined
company with them, as they always did for the greater security; for the
old gipsy lived in perpetual terror lest some one should run away with
her granddaughter.
One morning after this as they were returning to Madrid to levy black
mail along with other gitanas, in a little valley about five hundred
yards from the city, they met a handsome young gentleman richly dressed;
his sword and dagger were a blazo of gold; his hat was looped with a
jewelled band, and was adorned with plumes of various colours. The
gitanas stopped on seeing him, and set themselves to observe his
movements at their leisure, wondering much that so fine a cavalier
should be alone and on foot in such a place at that early hour. He came
up to them, and addressing the eldest gitana, said, "On your life,
friend, I entreat you do me the favour to let me say two words in
private to you and Preciosa. It shall be for your good."
"With all my heart," said the old woman, "so you do not take us much out
of our way, or delay us long;" and calling Preciosa, they withdrew to
some twenty paces distance, where they stopped, and the young gentleman
thus addressed them: "I am so subdued by the wit and beauty of Preciosa,
that after having in vain endeavoured to overcome my admiration, I have
at last found the effort impossible. I, señoras (for I shall always give
you that title if heaven favours my pretensions), am a knight, as this
dress may show you;" and opening his cloak he displayed the insignia of
one of the highest orders in Spain; "I am the son of----" (here he
mentioned a personage whose name we suppress for obvious reasons), "and
am still under tutelage and command. I am an only son, and expect to
inherit a considerable estate. My father is here in the capital, looking
for a certain post which by all accounts he is on the point of
obtaining. Being then of the rank and condition which I have declared to
you, I should yet wish to be a great lord for the sake of Preciosa, that
I might raise her up to my own level, and make her my equal and my lady.
I do not seek to deceive; the love I bear her is too deep for any kind
of deception; I only desire to serve her in whatever way shall be most
agreeable to her; her will is mine; for her my heart is wax to be
moulded as she pleases but enduring as marble to retain whatever
impression she shall make upon it. If you believe me I shall fear no
discouragement from any other quarter, but if you doubt me, I shall
despond. My name is----; my father's I have already given you; he lives
in such a house in such a street and you may inquire about him and me of
the neighbours, and of others also; for our name and quality are not so
obscure but that you may hear of us about the court, and every, where in
the capital. I have here a hundred crowns in gold to present to you, as
earnest of what I mean to give you hereafter; for a man will be no
niggard of his wealth who has given away his very soul."
Whilst the cavalier was speaking, Preciosa watched him attentively, and
doubtless she saw nothing to dislike either in his language or his
person. Turning to the old woman, she said, "Pardon me, grandmother, if
I take the liberty of answering this enamoured señor myself."
"Make whatever answer you please, granddaughter," said the old woman,
"for I know you have sense enough for anything." So Preciosa began.