OF THE JOURNEYING BACK TO THE HOUSE OF MY REJECTION
HOWEVER, the Count of Nullepart was wrong in this particular. For on
returning to the Three Feathers, we found her supping porridge with
the greatest zest, with two servants to wait upon her. We were in time
to hear her rate the landlord soundly because her couch had been hard;
also to hear her put innumerable questions to that honest fellow as to
whether her horse was shoed? what kind of smith it was that shoed it?
was the shoe likely to give comfort to the horse? and was it calculated
to cause no injury?
“Not that the horse is mine, fellow, you understand that?” said the
little lady, who looked as fresh as peach bloom, and who appeared to
keep her small head full of practical affairs.
“Oh yes, your ladyship, I quite understand that,” said the innkeeper,
with an air of the profoundest intelligence.
“I suspect you stole it, madam, from the Mother Superior,” said the
Count of Nullepart, taking up the conversation with a silken air.
“Why should you suspect that, sir?” said she, flashing upon the count
the instant glance of a hawk.
“I have two eyes, madam,” said he, smiling, “something of mind, and
my five wits--although I have no respect for them, and deplore their
use--are yet pointed as finely as five daggers. I am sure you stole
your horse from the Mother Superior.”
“How so, sirrah? And why so? And what do you mean?” said the lady,
flinging her questions at him scornfully, and tapping her foot on the
ground with petulance.
“I have been thinking upon you during the night,” said the Count of
Nullepart, “and have allowed myself to conclude that you are run away
from your convent on the horse of the Mother Superior, which fetches
home the eggs and butter from market.”
“Well, sir, and if I am run away,” said the lady haughtily, “I would
not have you mention it in this public place. I have many reasons for
running away, and the first of them is my father’s peril.”
“May I ask you, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart, with a smile
lurking at the corners of his mouth, “will it alleviate your father’s
peril, which I do not doubt is great, that you run away from your
convent on the horse of the Mother Superior?”
“Why, sir, indeed it will,” said she. “All his days, my father, his
lordship’s grace, hath been but as a child in statecraft; and being, as
he conceives, insufficiently able to mismanage his own policy, he must
needs in matters of great pith and delicacy call in the aid of an old
fat man to embroil them further.”
“And so, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart gravely, “you must needs
run away on the Mother Superior’s horse--the only horse, by the way, I
believe she possesses, which itself is slightly lame of the spavin--in
order that you may bear your infinite wisdom and your ripe experience
to the councils of your august male parent, his lordship’s grace, the
Duke of Where-is-it?”
“For what reason, sir, do you adjudge my father to be of that degree?”
“I adjudge it, madam, from the demeanour of his daughter. I called you
highness at a venture, and you corrected me. But unless these five wits
of mine, whose sharpness is forever disgracing me, have fallen into
disuse, there is not less than ducal blood in your veins, although
‘highness’ be not the nature of your title.”
“Your wits are shrewd, sir,” said the lady, “and your mind is subtle.
You have unmasked me, sir, you have torn away my cloak; and although I
do not thank you for it, after all, I don’t grieve much. My father is
the Duke of Montesina, dwelling at five leagues’ distance, and he is in
unhappy case.”
You may conceive, reader, with what concern I heard these words.
Fortune had indeed reserved for me a precious trick. I was to journey
back to the house of my rejection in the suite of one upon whose
service I had staked every hope. Overwhelmed by as great a conflict of
feeling as I had ever known, I could not forbear from disclosing my ill
adventure of the previous day. I am by no means clear that such an act
was becoming in a gentleman thus to unbosom himself to this daughter of
a high grandee, who on her account had used him without civility. But
as I laid bare my misfortunes to this imperious lady I seemed to fail
altogether in mastery of myself, being unable to command my unlucky
tongue.
However, the consequences of such an indiscretion were in nowise
unhappy. This noble lady listened to my words; and when I had spoken
to her of my dismissal, merely because I had hoped to serve her, such
a flame darkened her cheek, her eyes flashed so finely, her lips grew
so tremulous with anger, and she gave me her hand with a gesture so
pitiful and yet so superb that I found myself to be trembling with joy.
“Oh, that old man!” she cried. “Oh, that old man, he will be my death!
But I see the hand of that fat man in this. If that fat man walk
not warily, I will have him thrown into a dungeon with his bulk and
everything else.”
Such a resolute anger as possessed her at this recital of my tale I
never saw. I could not help recalling that of her father at the moment
he supplied the present occasion for it. And it so chanced that the
innkeeper, who was still standing by and paying his service to her,
was himself a fat man with a goodly paunch. Therefore she caused him
to supply the room of the offender, whoever he might be, and he was
doubtless Don Luiz, the Duke’s gentleman-usher; for in a true manner of
femininity, which filled the Count of Nullepart with joy, she addressed
the whole of her dislike to grossness to this unfortunate fellow.
“I hate a fat man,” she said, looking at the stout landlord ruthlessly.
“I am always filled with disgust by such enormous bulks. If I ever come
to the state of power, I will have every fat man broke upon the wheel;
and when I take over the governance of my father’s province, as I mean
to do this very afternoon, I will at once enact an ordinance whereby
every fat man within my dominion shall receive an hundred blows with a
stick.”
The poor innkeeper, who for one of his tribe was an honest fellow,
began to tremble horribly and to sweat like a horse.
“Annually,” she said, with such a truculent look that I marvelled how
so fair a countenance could compass it, “an hundred blows.”
“Poor fellows!” said the Count of Nullepart. “Poor fat men, won’t they
cry out!”
“There will never be such crying heard in Spain for many a year. I will
have it ordained that the sticks be edged with sharp pieces of wire.
Get you from my sight, you foolish, fat, lubberly fellow, else you
shall be the first to receive your merit.”
The innkeeper needed no second admonition to retire, for upon this
speaking her ladyship ordered the Count of Nullepart to procure her
riding-whip from the corner of the room. When the Count of Nullepart
brought forth this implement with an extremely grave face, it looked
so formidable as to justify the landlord in his flight. Yet how one
fashioned so delicately would have been able to wield such an enormous
weapon was beyond the comprehension of both the Count of Nullepart and
myself.
The instancy of the lady’s anger being past, she turned to the Count of
Nullepart, who still preserved the utmost gravity in his mien, and said
in a proud voice, which yet had nothing of its recent displeasure, “I
am led to think, sir, you have a wise and a subtle mind. I will see to
it that you are admitted into my counsels. What, sir, is your name and
your degree?”
The Count of Nullepart informed her of his titles in his melodious
accent.
“I am not displeased, sir,” said she, “that you are a man of birth. But
I had already adjudged it by your address. Now, my friends, as soon as
you have broken your fasts we will to horse. Five hot and dusty leagues
lie before us up the side of a steep mountain. We must not tarry, else
we shall not find the sun to be our friend.”
We did not venture to court her disapproval, which certainly, as we had
just had the proof, could be of the most imperious nature, by lingering
over our matutinal wine and meat. For myself, I ate my breakfast in a
state of high excitement. I could do nothing but think of the subtle
trick that fortune had set upon me. I was overjoyed to feel that by the
stroke of Providence I was to be permitted to prove my quality. All my
dreams, my ambitions, the wide vista opened to the view by my father’s
wisdom and prophetic foresight, were suddenly offered an ample field in
which to bear a golden fruit.
It was between six and seven o’clock of the summer’s morning when the
horse of our youthful mistress was led out of its stall. It proved to
be a shambling old white palfrey, as halt as a cow, and nearly as blind
as a stone. Before the lady would suffer herself to be mounted she must
needs examine its new shoe, which, happily for the smith, whoever he
might be, had been laid on craftily enough to obtain the sanction of
her goodwill and pleasure.
By the time this ancient quadruped had been led forth into the inn
yard, and had fully justified the title of “a notorious milk and butter
carrier,” as applied to it by the Count of Nullepart, I had determined,
come what might, to be the foremost in helping our mistress into the
saddle. I had contrived it that I should stoop to her and put out my
hand with great alacrity, yea, I had even got so far as to clasp her
boot in my palm, when, of a sudden motion, the Count of Nullepart took
her round the middle without more ado, and deposited her, whip and all,
upon the back of her palfrey with as little concern as if she had been
a bundle of feathers.
I think we were both proud men as we rode forth of the inn yard in such
society. Yet, if I must speak the truth, I was on ill terms with myself
for having lacked the count’s boldness. Still, the manner in which he
had taken her out of my grasp came very near to violence. And so far
was she from checking him for his forwardness that she appeared, with
some perversity as I conceived, to hold it nothing to his detriment.
For all through the city she requited what I was forced to consider a
rude importunity with the favour of her entire conversation.
“Do I take it, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart, “that your father,
his lordship’s grace, has the whole of this fair city for his dominion?”
“No, sir,” said the lady, with petulance; “it is under the sway of the
Archbishop of Toledo, a crafty and meddlesome priest. If my father had
had a better thrift, so that his coffers had a richer lining, and the
sharpest of his enemies were not like to be at his gate, I would urge
him to wrest this fair town from this hateful churchman and put the old
rascal to the sword.”
As she spoke these words in her fine clear speech, she swept a glance
of so much splendour over the crowding gabled roofs, the trees and
bazaars, and the tall spires of the churches, as plainly showed that
that sweetly delectable form harboured a spirit that was bold and
warlike. Nor was her utterance a light one. She did not speak for
several minutes, for her words had caused her to fall into a muse.
“One of these days,” she said at last, “I shall bring an army into
this city; one of these days this fair town shall be mine. You see, my
friend, I stand next to my father; I am heiress of all his demesne. And
I do tell you, my friend, that when the Countess Sylvia comes to her
inheritance, and good soldiers and good treasure are at her beck, she
will ride on a milk-white courser at the head of more than a thousand
beautiful fighting soldiers, each clad in a corslet of steel as bright
as a mirror, with a long white plume in his cap, and the motto of
her house painted in scarlet upon a cloth of white camlet upon his
breast. And she shall sack this fair city, and see to it that all Jews,
heretics, and Moriscoes are put to the sword. And this snuffling old
priest, this archbishop who at present holds the city in her despite,
she will nail by the ears to that gate yonder--do you not see it, my
friend, peeping out of the cork trees beside yonder fountain which hath
the water playing?”
“Upon my soul,” said the Count of Nullepart, holding in his horse to
give a better scope to his gravity, “I never heard a speech so full of
statesmanship. Do I speak the future Queen of Castile, I wonder? Do I
speak the future Queen of all Spain?”
“My thoughts are not concerned with so large a title, sir; I do but
desire that my father defend his right and that I defend mine.”
“Yet you would quell the archbishop, most noble countess,” said the
Count of Nullepart, laughing softly.
“That is not because I am covetous, sir, but because I have my ideas.
It is a presumption for a priest to hold a city. Let him keep to the
burning of heretics, and draw a revenue from the Holy Synod, not hold a
demesne in fee to the prejudice of his betters.”
“Well, madam,” said the Count of Nullepart, beginning to shake in his
saddle, “more advanced views I never heard put forward by a lady of
eighteen. If the ladies of future ages are to be of such stern clay as
yours, I foresee that there will be neither religions, dynasties, nor
empires upon the face of the globe. I foresee the day to be at hand
when everything of my unfortunate sex will be put to the sword, and
trunk hose will cease to be the pledge of a valiant simplicity.”
The Count of Nullepart, who for all his melancholy and sad look, was
much addicted to laughter, kept chuckling in a stealthy manner at
these speeches of our fair companion. And she, dear soul, was far from
observing him, being engrossed too deeply in her own designs; besides,
such an air as she wore would have rendered it impossible for her
to believe that any person could have been excited to mirth by her
conversation.
You will suppose that I felt myself out of countenance a little by not
receiving a share of the lady’s notice; but however much I might chafe
at my inability to inspire it, fortune presently played into my hands.
The Count of Nullepart, already installed as the favourite, either
failed to appreciate or did not choose to consider that the eminence
to which he had ascended carried its responsibilities. For, as we
wound along the steep paths which led to the castle, we passed, under
the shadow of a rock, a strapping rustic peasant girl with a laughing
face, bright eyes and cheeks, and a nosegay at her bosom. As we came
upon this handsome wench, the Count of Nullepart gazed at her long and
particularly, and even permitted himself to express an open approval
of her beauty. From that moment our fair companion paid him no more
regard. Immediately she turned to me, riding upon her left hand, and
proceeded to converse in a most grave and dignified manner.
All the rest of the way I had that arch and imperious voice to myself.
Several times its owner pointed with her riding-whip to the fair
prospect that was unfolded from this steep hill. I can never forget
this picture of the corn-fields, the oak trees, the cattle browsing
upon the mountain slopes, which were clad in the fierce white sun.
Little rivers ran down shining and sparkling to the Tagus, that fine
broad ribbon belted with diamonds which ran to hide itself in the fair
city below.
“One day all this will be under my sway as far as the eyes can scan,”
said the Countess Sylvia, “and that goodly city that lies below shall
be the capital of my dominion.”
When we rode up to the gate of the castle I was put in mind of my
previous misfortune. My heart began to beat as the scene returned upon
me. I saw myself rejected for the second time, or perchance cast into
a dungeon. Yet it was only for a moment that I permitted myself to
embrace these fears. For I reflected that this weakness was no part
of valour, and that at my side was one who, young as she was, was a
beautiful and fearless protectress. In the eyes of her whom I was
pledged to serve was that which put vacillation to the blush.
At the first blow I gave to the gate it swung back as before; yet upon
our admission, in spite of the presence of the Lady Sylvia, the same
formalities had to be enacted as on the previous occasion. She was
unknown to the soldiers at the gate, and we had to await, upon her part
with the greatest impatiency, the arrival of the captain of the guard.
He received her ladyship with a profound obeisance which did but add
fuel to her displeasure. She turned upon him in the most instant
manner, and cried, pointing to those who had declined to allow her to
proceed, “Put those soldiers in durance. Let them receive a bastinado
apiece.”
“But may it please your ladyship,” said the captain of the guard, “they
have only been in the service of his grace a twelvemonth; and never
having had the honour of seeing your ladyship, they knew you not.”
“If you venture to pass words with me, sirrah,” said the Countess
Sylvia, “you shall go to a dungeon yourself. By my life, it is well I
am come home! Even you dogs of soldiers have forgot your duty; but, by
my good soul, I will have it rectified.”
With the arrogance of a queen she disdained the service of the Count
of Nullepart, but allowed me to lift her from the saddle. Gathering up
her coarse grey garments, she bade the cowed and abashed captain of the
guard, a swollen and overbearing fellow with a pair of mustachios that
were capable of striking terror into the boldest heart, and who might
have concealed his mistress altogether in the capacious folds of his
gaberdine, conduct her to her father.
Asking leave of none and standing upon no formality, we all three
passed directly to that apartment of which I had had such a bitter
experience. I must confess, to my shame, that, as again I entered
it and beheld all those objects that were imprinted on my mind so
indelibly, I was sensible of a grave uneasiness.
As on the previous day, the duke was seated on his high chair, with
the dwarf at his back. At the appearance of his daughter he rose with
a sharp exclamation of surprise. He came forward to greet her, and she
met him gently with all her anger cooled, and received his embrace with
every mark of pleasure.
“But this is most singular,” said the duke, when he had bestowed these
marks of his affection. “What do you here, my delightful one? How have
you travelled? In what manner have you been accompanied?”
“My lord,” she answered, “I am here of your kingdom’s business. I have
travelled upon an old horse I took of the Mother Superior; and I have
been accompanied part of the journey by my five wits, and the other
part of it by these two honest gentlemen, whom I now present to your
lordship’s grace.”
“Oh and soh!” said the duke, after accepting our obeisances with a
disapproval he could ill conceal. “This is a very ill and froward
matter.”
It alarmed me to see his face grow red and to hear the harsh manner in
which he spoke these words. He put his daughter in no fear, however.
“Yes, your lordship,” she said calmly. “Being arrived at the age of
eighteen years, and knowing well that a wise and mature mind was needed
to direct your affairs, which the old fat man, your lordship’s chief
councillor, hath embroiled for so long a season, I deemed it time,
being arrived at eighteen years I say, to repair to the service of your
lordship.”
I think a great man can seldom have been gravelled so badly as was the
duke at these words. He could but open his mouth and gasp.
“But--but--but--” he cried in a splutter, “you leave your convent
without permission, you ride alone into dangerous places, you take up
with strangers along the road, and you dare--you dare, madam, to bring
them here to me! By my hand, madam, this is intolerable. You shall go
back to your convent immediately, and you shall be whipped.”
There never was such a staunch glance, I think, as that with which the
Countess Sylvia met the petulant anger of her parent.
“This is feeble talk, my lord,” she said boldly. “I have not adventured
a five days’ journey upon an old horse of most ridiculous paces to hear
such speaking as this. Many rumours have reached me in my convent of
what was toward in the world. I have even heard of the design of the
infamous King John to turn you forth of this castle, which you and
yours, my lord, have held by right of main for four hundred years.
Answer me, my lord, is not this so? is not this King John of Castile
about to take your manor?”
“Do not speak to me, madam,” said the duke. “You shall go back to your
convent at once. And as for these precious villains that you have
picked out of some infamous venta, they shall spend the rest of their
lives in a prison.”
The angry duke, having directed a glance of the most desperate contempt
at the Count of Nullepart and myself, sent the dwarf for Don Luiz, even
as he had done on the previous occasion.
“Ods, my life, madam,” he said, “I think you must be mad!”
When that slow-moving, austere, and portentous Don Luiz, who was yet
so girt about with arrogance and dignity, appeared in the wake of the
natural, it was plain enough that he was no other than that fat man
the recollection of whom had moved the little countess to such a deep
disgust. As he entered with a grunt and a wheeze, she clenched her
hands and looked upon him with the most disdainful effrontery, although
she spoke not a word.
“Here is a matter, Luiz; here is a matter,” cried the duke, breaking
out into a wail. “Mark yon little venom there; do you mark her? Run
away, Luiz; run away from her convent. Do you have her taken back
immediately, and she is to be flogged soundly.”
“Your grace shall be obeyed,” said Don Luiz heavily.
“And further, Luiz,” said the old grandee, who apparently was
stimulated by the presence of his trusty gentleman-usher, “these two
villainous rapscallions whom she hath picked out of some hedge tavern
to accompany her, and who, as you see, have had effrontery to beard us
in our own apartment, do you see to it, Luiz, that they are kept in
a solitary dungeon for the remainder of their lives. Or I put it to
you, Luiz--I shall cherish your advice upon this matter--would it be
properer to have them hanged at once for such a piece of mischief?”
I know not what were the feelings of the Count of Nullepart, but I have
to confess, good reader, that for myself I have seldom been thrown into
a greater concern. From the light in which the duke chose to view this
affair, our action in venturing to beard him in his own apartment at
the instance of a mischievous truant, on so bare a pretext, did indeed
savour of folly and presumption. And Don Luiz was fain to take the same
view of our conduct as his master, for, after collecting his wits with
wonderful solemnity, he answered, “I consider, my lord, you will do
well to hang them.”