desisted from their toils. The day had been uncommonly sultry; the night
was one of those delicious moonlights which tempt the inhabitants of
southern climes to indemnify themselves for the heat and inaction of the
day, by lingering in the open air, and enjoying its tempered sweetness
until after midnight. Customers for water were therefore still abroad.
Peregil, like a considerate, painstaking father, thought of his hungry
children. "One more journey to the well," said he to himself, "to earn a
Sunday's _puchero_ for the little ones." So saying, he trudged manfully
up the steep avenue of the Alhambra, singing as he went, and now and
then bestowing a hearty thwack with a cudgel on the flanks of his donkey,
either by way of cadence to the song, or refreshment to the animal; for
dry blows serve in lieu of provender in Spain for all beasts of burden.
When arrived at the well, he found it deserted by every one except
a solitary stranger in Moorish garb, seated on a stone bench in the
moonlight. Peregil paused at first and regarded him with surprise, not
unmixed with awe, but the Moor feebly beckoned him to approach. "I am
faint and ill," said he; "aid me to return to the city, and I will pay
thee double what thou couldst gain by thy jars of water."
The honest heart of the little water-carrier was touched with compassion
at the appeal of the stranger. "God forbid," said he, "that I should ask
fee or reward for doing a common act of humanity." He accordingly helped
the Moor on his donkey, and set off slowly for Granada, the poor Moslem
being so weak that it was necessary to hold him on the animal to keep him
from falling to the earth.
When they entered the city, the water-carrier demanded whither he should
conduct him. "Alas!" said the Moor, faintly, "I have neither home nor
habitation; I am a stranger in the land. Suffer me to lay my head this
night beneath thy roof, and thou shalt be amply repaid."
Honest Peregil thus saw himself unexpectedly saddled with an infidel
guest, but he was too humane to refuse a night's shelter to a fellow-being
in so forlorn a plight; so he conducted the Moor to his dwelling. The
children, who had sallied forth open-mouthed as usual on hearing the
tramp of the donkey, ran back with affright when they beheld the turbaned
stranger, and hid themselves behind their mother. The latter stepped
forth intrepidly, like a ruffling hen before her brood when a vagrant dog
approaches.
"What infidel companion," cried she, "is this you have brought home at
this late hour, to draw upon us the eyes of the inquisition?"
"Be quiet, wife," replied the _Gallego_; "here is a poor sick stranger,
without friend or home; wouldst thou turn him forth to perish in the
streets?"
The wife would still have remonstrated for although she lived in a hovel,
she was a furious stickler for the credit of her house; the little
water-carrier, however, for once was stiffnecked, and refused to bend
beneath the yoke. He assisted the poor Moslem to alight, and spread a mat
and a sheepskin for him, on the ground, in the coolest part of the house;
being the only kind of bed that his poverty afforded.
In a little while the Moor was seized with violent convulsions, which
defied all the ministering skill of the simple water-carrier. The eye of
the poor patient acknowledged his kindness. During an interval of his
fits he called him to his side, and addressing him in a low voice, "My
end," said he, "I fear is at hand. If I die, I bequeath you this box as a
reward for your charity:" so saying, he opened his albornoz, or cloak, and
showed a small box of sandal-wood, strapped round his body. "God grant,
my friend," replied the worthy little _Gallego_, "that you may live many
years to enjoy your treasure, whatever it may be." The Moor shook his
head; he laid his hand upon the box, and would have said something more
concerning it, but his convulsions returned with increasing violence, and
in a little while he expired.
The water-carrier's wife was now as one distracted. "This comes," said
she, "of your foolish good-nature, always running into scrapes to oblige
others. What will become of us when this corpse is found in our house?
We shall be sent to prison as murderers; and if we escape with our lives,
shall be ruined by notaries and alguazils."
Poor Peregil was in equal tribulation, and almost repented himself of
having done a good deed. At length a thought struck him. "It is not yet
day," said he; "I can convey the dead body out of the city, and bury it
in the sands on the banks of the Xenil. No one saw the Moor enter our
dwelling, and no one will know anything of his death."
So said, so done. The wife aided him; they rolled the body of the
unfortunate Moslem in the mat on which he had expired, laid it across the
ass, and Peregil set out with it for the banks of the river.
As ill luck would have it, there lived opposite to the water-carrier
a barber named Pedrillo Pedrugo, one of the most prying, tattling, and
mischief-making of his gossip tribe. He was a weasel-faced, spider-legged
varlet, supple and insinuating; the famous barber of Seville could not
surpass him for his universal knowledge of the affairs of others, and he
had no more power of retention than a sieve. It was said that he slept
but with one eye at a time, and kept one ear uncovered, so that even in
his sleep he might see and hear all that was going on. Certain it is, he
was a sort of scandalous chronicle for the quidnuncs of Granada, and had
more customers than all the rest of his fraternity.
The meddlesome barber heard Peregil arrive at an unusual hour at night,
and the exclamations of his wife and children. His head was instantly
popped out of a little window which served as a look-out, and he saw
his neighbour assist a man in Moorish garb into his dwelling. This was
so strange an occurrence, that Pedrillo Pedrugo slept not a wink that
night. Every five minutes he was at his loophole, watching the lights that
gleamed through the chinks of his neighbour's door, and before daylight
he beheld Peregil sally forth with his donkey unusually laden.
The inquisitive barber was in a fidget; he slipped on his clothes, and,
stealing forth silently, followed the water-carrier at a distance, until
he saw him dig a hole in the sandy bank of the Xenil, and bury something
that had the appearance of a dead body.
The barber hied him home, and fidgeted about his shop, setting everything
upside down, until sunrise. He then took a basin under his arm, and
sallied forth to the house of his daily customer the _alcalde_.
The _alcalde_ was just risen. Pedrillo Pedrugo seated him in a chair,
threw a napkin round his neck, put a basin of hot water under his chin,
and began to mollify his beard with his fingers.
"Strange doings!" said Pedrugo, who played barber and newsmonger at the
same time,--"strange doings! Robbery, and murder, and burial all in one
night!"
"Hey!--how!--what is that you say?" cried the _alcalde_.
"I say," replied the barber, rubbing a piece of soap over the nose
and mouth of the dignitary, for a Spanish barber disdains to employ
a brush,--"I say that Peregil the _Gallego_ has robbed and murdered a
Moorish Mussulman, and buried him, this blessed night. _Maldita sea la
noche_;--Accursed be the night for the same!"
"But how do you know all this?" demanded the _alcalde_.
"Be patient, _Señor_, and you shall hear all about it," replied Pedrillo,
taking him by the nose and sliding a razor over his cheek. He then
recounted all that he had seen, going through both operations at the same
time, shaving his beard, washing his chin, and wiping him dry with a dirty
napkin, while he was robbing, murdering, and burying the Moslem.
Now it so happened that this _alcalde_ was one of the most overbearing,
and at the same time most griping and corrupt curmudgeons in all Granada.
It could not be denied, however, that he set a high value upon justice,
for he sold it at its weight in gold. He presumed the case in point to
be one of murder and robbery; doubtless there must be a rich spoil; how
was it to be secured into the legitimate hands of the law? for as to
merely entrapping the delinquent--that would be feeding the gallows;
but entrapping the booty--that would be enriching the judge, and such,
according to his creed, was the great end of justice. So thinking, he
summoned to his presence his truest _alguazil_--a gaunt, hungry-looking
varlet, clad, according to the custom of his order, in the ancient Spanish
garb, a broad black beaver turned up at its sides; a quaint ruff; a small
black cloak dangling from his shoulders; rusty black underclothes that
set off his spare wiry frame, while in his hand he bore a slender white
wand, the dreaded insignia of his office. Such was the legal bloodhound
of the ancient Spanish breed, that he put upon the traces of the unlucky
water-carrier, and such was his speed and certainty, that he was upon
the haunches of poor Peregil before he had returned to his dwelling, and
brought both him and his donkey before the dispenser of justice.
The _alcalde_ bent upon him one of the most terrific frowns. "Hark
ye, culprit!" roared he, in a voice that made the knees of the little
_Gallego_ smite together,--"hark ye, culprit! there is no need of denying
thy guilt, everything is known to me. A gallows is the proper reward
for the crime thou hast committed, but I am merciful, and readily listen
to reason. The man that has been murdered in thy house was a Moor, and
infidel, the enemy of our faith. It was doubtless in a fit of religious
zeal that thou hast slain him. I will be indulgent, therefore; render up
the property of which thou hast robbed him, and we will hush the matter
up."
The poor water-carrier called upon all the saints to witness his
innocence; alas! not one of them appeared; and if they had, the _alcalde_
would have disbelieved the whole calendar. The water-carrier related
the whole story of the dying Moor with the straightforward simplicity of
truth, but it was all in vain. "Wilt thou persist in saying," demanded
the judge, "that this Moslem had neither gold nor jewels, which were the
object of thy cupidity?"
"As I hoped to be saved, your worship," replied the water-carrier, "he
had nothing but a small box of sandal-wood, which he bequeathed to me in
reward for my services."
"A box of sandal-wood! a box of sandal-wood!" exclaimed the _alcalde_,
his eyes sparkling at the idea of precious jewels. "And where is this box?
where have you concealed it?"
"An' it please your grace," replied the water-carrier, "it is in one of
the panniers of my mule, and heartily at the service of your worship."
He had hardly spoken the words, when the keen _alguazil_ darted off,
and reappeared in an instant with the mysterious box of sandal-wood. The
_alcalde_ opened it with an eager and trembling hand; all pressed forward
to gaze upon the treasure it was expected to contain; when, to their
disappointment, nothing appeared within, but a parchment scroll, covered
with Arabic characters, and an end of a waxen taper.
When there is nothing to be gained by the conviction of a prisoner,
justice, even in Spain, is apt to be impartial. The _alcalde_, having
recovered from his disappointment, and found that there was really no
booty in the case, now listened dispassionately to the explanation of the
water-carrier, which was corroborated by the testimony of his wife. Being
convinced, therefore, of his innocence, he discharged him from arrest;
nay more, he permitted him to carry off the Moor's legacy, the box of
sandal-wood and its contents, as the well-merited reward of his humanity;
but he retained his donkey in payment of costs and charges.
Behold the unfortunate little _Gallego_ reduced once more to the necessity
of being his own water-carrier, and trudging up to the well of the
Alhambra with a great earthen jar upon his shoulder.
As he toiled up the hill in the heat of a summer noon, his usual
good-humour forsook him. "Dog of an _alcalde_!" would he cry, "to rob a
poor man of the means of his subsistence, of the best friend he had in
the world!" And then at the remembrance of the beloved companion of his
labours, all the kindness of his nature would break forth. "Ah, donkey of
my heart!" would he exclaim, resting his burden on a stone, and wiping the
sweat from his brow,--"ah, donkey of my heart! I warrant me thou thinkest
of thy old master! I warrant me thou missest the water-jars--poor beast."
To add to his afflictions, his wife received him, on his return home, with
whimperings and repinings; she had clearly the vantage-ground of him,
having warned him not to commit the egregious act of hospitality which
had brought on him all these misfortunes; and, like a knowing woman, she
took every occasion to throw her superior sagacity in his teeth. If her
children lacked food, or needed a new garment, she could answer with a
sneer, "Go to your father--he is heir to king Chico of the Alhambra: ask
him to help you out of the Moor's strong box."
Was ever poor mortal so soundly punished for having done a good action?
The unlucky Peregil was grieved in flesh and spirit, but still he bore
meekly with the railings of his spouse. At length, one evening, when,
after a hot day's toil, she taunted him in the usual manner, he lost all
patience. He did not venture to retort upon her, but his eye rested upon
the box of sandal-wood, which lay on a shelf with lid half open, as if
laughing in mockery at his vexation. Seizing it up, he dashed it with
indignation to the floor. "Unlucky was the day that I ever set eyes on
thee," he cried, "or sheltered thy master beneath my roof!"
As the box struck the floor, the lid flew wide open, and the parchment
scroll rolled forth.
Peregil sat regarding the scroll for some time in moody silence. At length
rallying his ideas, "Who knows," thought he, "but this writing may be of
some importance, as the Moor seems to have guarded it with such care?"
Picking it up therefore, he put it in his bosom, and the next morning as
he was crying water through the streets, he stopped at the shop of a Moor,
a native of Tangiers, who sold trinkets and perfumery in the Zacatin, and
asked him to explain the contents.
[Illustration]
The Moor read the scroll attentively, then stroked his beard and smiled.
"This manuscript," said he, "is a form of incantation for the recovery
of hidden treasure that is under the power of enchantment. It is said to
have such virtue that the strongest bolts and bars, nay, the adamantine
rock itself, will yield before it!"
"Bah!" cried the little _Gallego_, "what is all that to me? I am no
enchanter, and know nothing of buried treasure." So saying, he shouldered
his water-jar, left the scroll in the hands of the Moor, and trudged
forward on his daily rounds.
That evening, however, as he rested himself about twilight at the well of
the Alhambra, he found a number of gossips assembled at the place, and
their conversation, as is not unusual in that shadowy hour, turned upon
old tales and traditions of a supernatural nature. Being all poor as rats,
they dwelt with peculiar fondness upon the popular theme of enchanted
riches left by the Moors in various parts of the Alhambra. Above all, they
concurred in the belief that there were great treasures buried deep in
the earth under the tower of the seven floors.
These stories made an unusual impression on the mind of the honest
Peregil, and they sank deeper and deeper into his thoughts as he returned
alone down the darkling avenues. "If, after all, there should be treasure
hid beneath that tower; and if the scroll I left with the Moor should
enable me to get at it!" In the sudden ecstasy of the thought he had
well-nigh let fall his water-jar.
That night he tumbled and tossed, and could scarcely get a wink of sleep
for the thoughts that were bewildering his brain. Bright and early he
repaired to the shop of the Moor, and told him all that was passing in
his mind. "You can read Arabic," said he; "suppose we go together to the
tower, and try the effect of the charm; if it fails, we are no worse off
than before; but if it succeeds, we will share equally all the treasure
we may discover."
"Hold," replied the Moslem; "this writing is not sufficient of itself; it
must be read at midnight, by the light of a taper singularly compounded
and prepared, the ingredients of which are not within my reach. Without
such a taper the scroll is of no avail."
"Say no more!" cried the little _Gallego_; "I have such a taper at hand,
and will bring it here in a moment." So saying, he hastened home, and soon
returned with the end of yellow wax taper that he had found in the box of
sandal-wood.
The Moor felt it and smelt to it. "Here are rare and costly perfumes,"
said he, "combined with this yellow wax. This is the kind of taper
specified in the scroll. While this burns, the strongest walls and most
secret caverns will remain open. Woe to him, however, who lingers within
until it be extinguished. He will remain enchanted with the treasure."
It was now agreed between them to try the charm that very night. At a
late hour, therefore, when nothing was stirring but bats and owls, they
ascended the woody hill of the Alhambra, and approached that awful tower,
shrouded by trees and rendered formidable by so many traditionary tales.
By the light of a lantern they groped their way through bushes, and over
fallen stones, to the door of a vault beneath the tower. With fear and
trembling they descended a flight of steps cut into the rock. It led
to an empty chamber, damp and drear, from which another flight of steps
led to a deeper vault. In this way they descended four several flights,
leading into as many vaults, one below the other, but the floor of the
fourth was solid; and though, according to tradition, there remained three
vaults still below, it was said to be impossible to penetrate further,
the residue being shut up by strong enchantment. The air of this vault was
damp and chilly, and had an earthy smell, and the light scarce cast forth
any rays. They paused here for a time, in breathless suspense, until they
faintly heard the clock of the watch-tower strike midnight; upon this they
lit the waxen taper, which diffused an odour of myrrh and frankincense
and storax.
The Moor began to read in a hurried voice. He had scarce finished when
there was a noise as of subterraneous thunder. The earth shook, and the
floor, yawning open, disclosed a flight of steps. Trembling with awe, they
descended, and by the light of the lantern found themselves in another
vault covered with Arabic inscriptions. In the centre stood a great chest,
secured with seven bands of steel, at each end of which sat an enchanted
Moor in armour, but motionless as a statue, being controlled by the power
of the incantation. Before the chest were several jars filled with gold
and silver and precious stones. In the largest of these they thrust their
arms up to the elbow, and at every dip hauled forth handfuls of broad
yellow pieces of Moorish gold, or bracelets and ornaments of the same
precious metal, while occasionally a necklace of Oriental pearl would
stick to their fingers. Still they trembled and breathed short while
cramming their pockets with the spoils; and cast many a fearful glance at
the two enchanted Moors, who sat grim and motionless, glaring upon them
with unwinking eyes. At length, struck with a sudden panic at some fancied
noise, they both rushed up the staircase, tumbled over one another into
the upper apartment, overturned and extinguished the waxen taper, and the
pavement again closed with a thundering sound.
Filled with dismay, they did not pause until they had groped their way
out of the tower, and beheld the stars shining through the trees. Then
seating themselves upon the grass, they divided the spoil, determining to
content themselves for the present with this mere skimming of the jars,
but to return on some future night and drain them to the bottom. To make
sure of each other's good faith, also, they divided the talismans between
them, one retaining the scroll and the other the taper; this done, they
set off with light hearts and well-lined pockets for Granada.
As they wended their way down the hill, the shrewd Moor whispered a word
of counsel in the ear of the simple little water-carrier.
"Friend Peregil," said he, "all this affair must be kept a profound secret
until we have secured the treasure, and conveyed it out of harm's way. If
a whisper of it gets to the ear of the _alcalde_, we are undone!"
"Certainly," replied the _Gallego_, "nothing can be more true."
"Friend Peregil," said the Moor, "you are a discreet man, and I make no
doubt can keep a secret; but you have a wife."
"She shall not know a word of it," replied the little water-carrier,
sturdily.
"Enough," said the Moor, "I depend upon thy discretion and thy promise."
Never was promise more positive and sincere; but, alas! what man can
keep a secret from his wife? Certainly not such a one as Peregil the
water-carrier, who was one of the most loving and tractable of husbands.
On his return home, he found his wife moping in a corner. "Mighty well,"
cried she as he entered, "you've come at last, after rambling about until
this hour of the night. I wonder you have not brought home another Moor
as a house-mate." Then bursting into tears, she began to wring her hands
and smite her breast. "Unhappy woman that I am!" exclaimed she, "what will
become of me? My house stripped and plundered by lawyers and _alguazils_;
my husband a do-no-good, that no longer brings home bread to his family,
but goes rambling about day and night, with infidel Moors! O my children!
my children! what will become of us? We shall all have to beg in the
streets!"
Honest Peregil was so moved by the distress of his spouse, that he could
not help whimpering also. His heart was as full as his pocket, and not to
be restrained. Thrusting his hand into the latter he hauled forth three
or four broad gold pieces, and slipped them into her bosom. The poor
woman stared with astonishment, and could not understand the meaning of
this golden shower. Before she could recover her surprise, the little
_Gallego_ drew forth a chain of gold and dangled it before her, capering
with exultation, his mouth distended from ear to ear.
"Holy Virgin protect us!" exclaimed the wife. "What hast thou been doing,
Peregil? surely thou hast not been committing murder and robbery!"
The idea scarce entered the brain of the poor woman, than it became a
certainty with her. She saw a prison and a gallows in the distance, and
a little bandy-legged _Gallego_ hanging pendent from it; and, overcome by
the horrors conjured up by imagination, fell into violent hysterics.
What could the poor man do? He had no other means of pacifying his wife,
and dispelling the phantoms of her fancy, than by relating the whole story
of his good fortune. This, however, he did not do until he had exacted
from her the most solemn promise to keep it a profound secret from every
living being.
To describe her joy would be impossible. She flung her arms round the neck
of her husband, and almost strangled him with her caresses. "Now, wife,"
exclaimed the little man with honest exultation, "what say you now to the
Moor's legacy? Henceforth never abuse me for helping a fellow-creature in
distress."
The honest _Gallego_ retired to his sheepskin mat, and slept as soundly
as if on a bed of down. Not so his wife; she emptied the whole contents
of his pockets upon the mat, and sat counting gold pieces of Arabic coin,
trying on necklaces and earrings, and fancying the figure she should one
day make when permitted to enjoy her riches.
On the following morning the honest _Gallego_ took a broad golden coin,
and repaired with it to a jeweller's shop in the Zacatin to offer it for
sale, pretending to have found it among the ruins of the Alhambra. The
jeweller saw that it had an Arabic inscription, and was of the purest
gold; he offered, however, but a third of its value, with which the
water-carrier was perfectly content. Peregil now bought new clothes for
his little flock, and all kinds of toys, together with ample provisions
for a hearty meal, and returning to his dwelling, set all his children
dancing around him, while he capered in the midst, the happiest of
fathers.