AN IDOL ON ITS PEDESTAL.
In the spacious garden attached to the governor's house were gathered
together some of the gayest and most fashionable of those who moved in
the higher circles of Seville. A party had been invited to celebrate
with dance, song, and feasting, the birthday of the governor's only
daughter. The garden was a little paradise, in which nature and art
seemed to outvie each other in offering attractions to eye, ear, and
taste. Lopez, who, with his daughter, had visited the Great Exhibition
in Paris, had brought back ideas of French magnificence to add new
adornments to a place which, for beauty and elegance, had before been
unrivalled in Seville. Exotics from various countries blended with the
splendid plants indigenous to Andalusia, making the parterres one
flush of brilliant hues. Italian statues adorned gilded fountains that
threw up scented waters to sparkle in the sun. Here, under the shade
of orange-trees, ladies listened to the strains of some manly voice,
accompanied by the tinkling guitar. There the fandango was danced on
the velvet turf, while clattering castanets kept time. Servants in
gorgeous liveries carried about ices shaped into the forms of fruits,
or costly luxuries brought from the most distant parts of the world.
Others followed with wines such as were to be found in no cellars in
Seville save those of the wealthy governor, who was as lavish in
expending his money as he was unscrupulous in acquiring it.
The centre of the brilliant circle, the observed of all observers, the
magnet which drew to itself the admiration of every cavalier
present--Donna Antonia stood like the queen of beauty, surrounded by
satellites that only shone in the light of her smile. Antonia
concentrated in herself the charms for which the women of Andalusia
are famed. Hers were the lustrous almond-shaped eyes, the luxuriant
hair, the exquisite form whose every movement is the perfection of
grace. Perhaps to the eye of an artist Antonia would have appeared
more to advantage in the picturesque long white robe and lace veil of
the Spanish costume, than in the dress of the newest Parisian fashion
with which she had chosen to replace them. But let her wear what she
might, Antonia in any garb must have been acknowledged to be the most
beautiful woman in Seville; and no one was more aware of the fact than
herself. No expense had been spared in showing off her beauty; the
arms and neck of the governor's daughter were loaded with splendid
jewels, and a circlet of brilliants sparkled round her brow.
It was to be expected that such a subject of interest as the arrest of
Don Alcala de Aguilera should afford a topic for gossip amongst
members of fashionable circles, as well as amongst the poorer
inhabitants of Seville. Even the cavalier's late adventure in the
bull-ring had scarcely been a more exciting, and therefore delightful,
theme. There was not a group in the gay garden of Lopez de Rivadeo
where Alcala's imprisonment did not form a thread in the web of light
converse, a thread variously coloured, according to the temper of the
speakers, by disapproval, contempt, or pity. The appearance, at least,
of the noble hidalgo was familiar to all the guests of Antonia, and
every one, more or less, took some interest in his fate.
"I always declared my conviction that De Aguilera would sink lower and
lower after he degraded himself by stooping to serve an English
mechanic," observed a stiff-backed don, who had himself not been above
begging a place in the customs and enforcing his plea by a bribe.
"I'd have blown out my brains before I'd have done that!" exclaimed a
young Spanish officer, twirling the end of his slender mustache.
"De Aguilera took almost as short a method of cutting the life-knot
when he rode spear in hand into the Plaza de Toros," observed a
stately duenna.
"I admired his daring," lisped her pretty young charge. "One likes to
see the knightly spirit flash forth; and if Don Alcala had been slain
in the arena, one could only have said that it was a pity that so
brave and handsome a caballero should come to such an untimely end.
But only think of a Spanish hidalgo being carried off to a common
prison on such a charge as might be preferred against some
book-hawking pedlar!"
"Or a wretched heretic, whom Torquemada--rest his soul!--would have
sent to the stake," joined in her stern-faced duenna.
"Heresy must be put down," observed the don who had first spoken, with
a frown which might have beseemed the Grand Inquisitor himself. This
Spanish gentleman, who so strongly condemned what he termed heresy,
had himself no faith in any religion whatever.
"One pities Don Alcala's sister," said the younger lady. "I rather
liked her looks, though she never carried herself with the dignity of
an Aguilera; and as for her dress, she, for one, seemed to think that
Spanish ladies were born in the frightful mantilla, veil, and high
comb worn by their mothers, and must carry them, as birds do their
feathers, to the end of their lives!" It need scarcely be mentioned
that the fair speaker, like Antonia, had adopted a fashionable
Parisian costume, and wore her hair in the _Imperatrice_ style.
A cavalier, with obsequious reverence, such as he might have shown to
Queen Isabella herself, was presenting to Donna Antonia the fan which
she had dropped, when one of her servants approached her, and in a low
tone informed his mistress that a lady who called herself Donna Inez
de Aguilera asked a few minutes of private audience with the senorita.
"Donna Inez de Aguilera!" exclaimed Antonia, in a tone that expressed
curiosity rather than pity; "is she waiting in her carriage without?"
"The senorita is on foot, and unattended," said the lackey, hardly
suppressing a smile.
Antonia laughed--such a light, gay laugh--and the sycophants around
her echoed the tones of her mirth. "Donna Inez doubtless comes to
entreat my intercession for the caballero her brother," said the
governor's daughter. "Would it not be like a scene out of some French
romance, if we were to see this _demoiselle-errante_ humbling herself
to play the supplicant here!" And forgetting, or rather disregarding
Inez's request that the audience might be private, Antonia bade her
servant introduce the senorita into the crowded garden.
Purposely or not, Antonia moved a few steps to a place where a slight
elevation of the ground gave her a raised position, such as might have
been afforded by a dais, and her flatterers formed behind her a
semicircle which might have graced the court of a queen. There was a
smile of conscious triumph on the lips of the governor's daughter. The
house of Aguilera was older by three centuries than that of Rivadeo,
and to see a descendant of one of the conquerors of the Moors reduced
to implore a boon in the presence of so many spectators was a
gratification to the mean ungenerous pride of Antonia.
There mingled also with that pride a spirit of petty revenge. Inez had
once been invited to a party at the governor's house, and the
invitation had not been accepted. There had been various reasons for
the refusal of Inez to appear in the gay assembly,--one of the most
potent amongst them being the lack of a suitable dress,--but Antonia
imagined but one. The heiress of De Rivadeo thought herself slighted
by a proud descendant of heroes, and deeply resented the slight.
"Inez de Aguilera is the only woman in Seville who would not have
thought herself honoured by my invitation," Antonia had observed to
one of her numerous sycophants; and the haughty girl had added the
bitter remark, "She may live to repent her folly." Antonia now deemed
that the time for such repentance had come.
Inez, whose natural timidity had been increased by habits of
seclusion, felt as if she would fain have sunk into the earth, when,
on being conducted into the garden, she saw what an ordeal was before
her. After all that she had suffered during that terrible day, might
she not have been spared the mental torment of facing alone such a
crowd of spectators! But still the weak and weary one felt that
mysterious sustaining power which led her gently on, like the support
of a father's arm. Inez lifted up her heart in that short ejaculatory
prayer which has been beautifully described as the golden link between
earth and heaven. Then Inez remembered her brother, and self was
almost forgotten. With the meek dignity of sorrow the lady followed
the servant, and feelings of compassion for her were awakened even in
worldly hearts. An elderly Castilian cavalier came forward, and with
the profoundest respect offered his escort to the desolate girl.
Antonia was annoyed on witnessing this little act of courtesy, and
more especially so as the Castilian's rank made him one of the stars
of her party.
"We are much flattered by the appearance at our festival of Donna Inez
de Aguilera," said Antonia, with ironical politeness, as Inez
approached the raised place where the governor's daughter stood to
receive her. "To what happy chance may we owe this somewhat unexpected
gratification?"
All the courtly throng kept silence so profound that Inez's low answer
was heard distinctly.
"I come, Donna Antonia, to entreat you to procure some--some
alleviation for the trials of my brother. He has been accused by his
own false servant, a servant who has lately robbed him, and who, by
this cruel means, hopes to shield himself from the pursuit of his
master."
"And what would you have me do in this matter?" interrupted Antonia.
"Would you expect me to hunt out the robber, who was doubtless tempted
by the hoards of wealth possessed, as we all know well, by the family
of De Aguilera? I am neither corregidor nor alguazil, and must beg to
make over the quest to the officers of the law."
Inez resumed her pleading as if the insolent taunt were unnoticed by
her.
"My brother Don Alcala is still very weak from the effects of a wound
received in the Plaza de Toros,"--the cavalier's sister laid an
emphatic stress on the name of the place. "This day my brother was
carried off to a prison; the hardships and sufferings to which he will
there be exposed may cost him his life. I only ask for your
intercession that Don Alcala may be suffered to return to his house,
and remain, if need be, a prisoner there on parole, till the strictest
search be made into his conduct. I am certain"--the sister
unconsciously warmed as she spoke--"I am certain that such search will
only prove that Don Alcala has acted nobly."
"Donna Inez comes to plead rather like one demanding a due than suing
for a favour," said the sarcastic Antonia. "An Aguilera must needs
have a claim to our utmost exertions; even to hint that our
intercession would be acceptable must seem unnecessary to the pride of
his sister."
"Pride!" echoed the wondering Inez, to whom her own position appeared
to exclude such an idea: "pride!" she repeated passionately, "when I
would go on my knees to obtain the liberty of Alcala!"
"Scarcely, I suspect, even to save his life," said the governor's
daughter.
As if by a sudden impulse Inez sank on her knees; if that humiliation
would win a protectress for Alcala, even to that would she stoop.
Antonia glanced with a proud smile first down at Inez, then round at
her guests. This was a crowning triumph indeed!
"Rise, Donna Inez de Aguilera," said the governor's daughter after a
pause; "I am sorry that I cannot, even in your behalf, break the vow
which I have made, under no circumstances whatever to interfere with
my father's administration of justice."
Some of the spectators could hardly suppress the exclamation of
"Shame!" as Inez rose from her knees, deadly pale, but perfectly calm.
The screen had, as it were, been withdrawn from before the idol they
had worshipped, and they had had a glimpse of the moral hideousness
which may lie under the veil of outward beauty.
"May you, Donna Antonia, never know what it is to ask for mercy in
vain!" murmured Inez; and without uttering another word she turned to
depart. Many of those present would willingly have shown the poor
maiden sympathy and done her service, but dared not come forward to do
so under the eyes of their tyrant. The Castilian alone, with lofty
courtesy, accompanied the young lady to the gate, and beyond it. His
escort was no small comfort to Inez; she had not to pass alone through
the gazing throng of servants who were without the garden enclosure
awaiting the departure of the guests of the governor's daughter.
"May I have the honour of summoning the carriage of the Donna Inez de
Aguilera?" asked her courteous protector, bowing low as he spoke.
"No, senor; I will return as I came," murmured Inez faintly; "and
thanks--thanks!" She could not add more, but turned from her pitying
conductor and went on her lonely way.
But Inez could not walk far. The excitement of hope sustained her no
longer, no strength for further effort remained. Weights of lead
seemed to cling to the poor girl's feet, there was a rushing sound in
her ears as if the ocean were near. Mist gathered before the eyes of
Inez, dimming the brilliant sunshine which yet flooded the city. The
Spanish maiden had painful difficulty in breathing, and to get air
intuitively threw back her veil. As she did so the voice of one who
was about to pass her in the street uttered her name in a tone of
surprise. The fainting girl was only able to recognize the speaker ere
her powers completely gave way, and she would have fallen to the
ground in a swoon but for the supporting arms of Lucius Lepine.