"And Senor Cristobal Losada--" but the thought of the kind and skilful
physician who had watched beside her own sick-bed, and brought back her
babe from the gates of the grave, almost overcame her. Turning quickly
to other victims, she went on--
"There were four monks of St. Jerome. Think of the White Doctor, that
every one believed so good a man, so pious and orthodox! Another of
them, Fray Cristobal D'Arellano, was accused in his sentence of some
wicked words against Our Lady which, it would seem, he never said. He
cried out boldly, before them all, 'It is false! I never advanced such
a blasphemy; and I am ready to prove the contrary with the Bible in my
hand.' Every one seemed too much amazed even to think of ordering him
to be gagged: and, for my part, I am glad the poor wretch had his word
for the last time. I cannot help wishing they had equally forgotten to
silence Doctor Juan Gonzales; for it does not appear that he was
speaking any blasphemy, but merely a word of comfort to a poor pale
girl, his sister, as they told me. Two of them are to die with him--God
help them!--Holy Saints forgive me; I forgot we were told not to pray
for them," and she crossed herself.
"Does my sister really believe that compassionate word a sin in God's
sight?"
"How am I to know? I believe whatever the Church says, of course. And
surely there is enough in these days to inspire us with a pious horror
of heresy. _Pues_," she resumed, "there was that long and terrible
ceremony of degrading from the priesthood. And yet that Gonsalez passed
through it all as calm and unmoved as though he were but putting on his
robes to say mass. His mother and his two brothers are still in prison,
it is said, awaiting their doom. Of all the relaxed, I am told that
only Don Juan Ponce de Leon showed any sign of penitence. For the sake
of his noble house, one is glad to think he is not so hardened as the
rest. Ay de mi! Whether it be right or wrong, I cannot help pitying
their unhappy souls."
"Pity your own soul, not theirs," said Gonsalvo. "For I tell you Christ
himself, in all his glory and majesty, at the right hand of the Father,
will _stand up_ to receive them this night, as he did to welcome St.
Stephen long ago."
"Oh, my poor brother, what dreadful words you speak! It is a mortal sin
even to listen to you. Take thought, I implore you, of your own
situation."
"I _have_ taken thought," interrupted Gonsalvo, faintly. "But I can
bear no more--just now. Leave me, I pray you, alone with God."
"If you would even try to say an Ave!--But I fear you are
ill--suffering. I do not like to leave you thus."
"Do not heed me; I shall be better soon. And a vow is upon me that I
must keep to-day." Once more he flung the wasted hand across his face
to conceal it.
Irresolute whether to go or stay, she stood for some minutes watching
him silently. At length she caught a low murmur, and hoping that he
prayed, she bent over him to hear. Only three words reached her ear.
They were these--"Father, forgive them."
After an interval, Gonsalvo looked up again. "I thought you were gone,"
he said. "Go now, I entreat of you. But so soon as you know _the end_,
spare not to come and tell me. For I wait for that."
Thus entreated, Dona Inez had no choice but to leave him alone, which
she did.
Evening had worn to night, and night was beginning to wear towards
daybreak, when at last Don Garcia Ramirez, and those of his servants who
had accompanied him to the Prado San Sebastian to see the end, returned
home.
Dona Inez sat awaiting her husband in the patio. She looked pale and
languid; apparently the great holiday of Seville had been anything but a
joyful day to her.
Don Garcia divested himself of his cloak and sword, and dismissed the
servants to their beds. But when his wife invited him to partake of the
supper she had prepared, he turned upon her with very unusual
ill-humour. "It is little like thy wonted wit, senora mia, to bid a man
to his breakfast at midnight," he said. Yet he drank deeply of the
Xeres wine that stood on the board beside the venison pasty and the
manchet bread.
At last, after long patience, Dona Inez won from his lips what she
desired to hear. "Oh yes; all is over. Our Lady defend us! I have
never seen such obstinacy; nor could I have believed it possible unless
I had seen it. The criminals encouraged each other to the very last.
Those girls, the sisters of Gonsalez, repeated their Credo at the stake;
whereupon the attendant Brethren entreated them to have so much pity on
their own souls as to say, 'I believe in the _Roman_ Catholic Church.'
They answered, 'We will do as our brother does.' So the gag was
removed, and Doctor Juan cried aloud, 'Add nothing to the good
confession you have made already.' But for all that, order was given to
strangle them; and one of the friars told us they died in the true
faith. I suppose it is not a sin to hope they did."
After a pause, he continued, in a deeper tone, "Senor Cristobal amazed
me as much as any of them. At the very stake, some of the Brethren
undertook to argue with him. But seeing that we were all listening, and
might hear somewhat to the hurt of our souls, they began to speak in the
Latin tongue. Our physician immediately did the same. I am no scholar
myself; but there were learned men there who marked every word, and one
of them told me afterwards that the doomed man spoke with as much
elegance and propriety as if he had been contending for an academic
prize, instead of waiting for the lighting of the fire which was to
consume him. This unheard-of calmness and composure, whence is it? The
devil's own work, or"----he broke off suddenly and resumed in a
different tone, "Senora mia, have you thought of the hour? In Heaven's
name, let us to our beds!"
"I cannot go to rest until you tell me one thing more. Dona Maria de
Bohorques?"
"Vaya, vaya! have we not had enough of it all?"
"Nay; I have made a promise. I must entreat you to tell me how Dona
Maria de Bohorques met her doom."
"With unflinching hardihood. Don Juan Ponce tried to urge her to yield
somewhat. But she refused, saying it was not now a time for reasoning,
and that they ought rather to meditate on the Lord's death and passion.
(They believe in _that_, it seems.) When she was bound to the stake,
the monks and friars crowded round her, and pressed her only to repeat
the Credo. She did so; but began to add some explanations, which, I
suppose, were heretical. Then immediately the command was given to
strangle her; and so, in one moment, while she was yet speaking, death
came to her."
"Then she did not suffer? She escaped the fire! Thank God!"
Five minutes afterwards, Dona Inez stood by her brother's bed. He lay in
the same posture, his face still shaded by his hand.
"Brother," she said gently--"brother, all is over. She did not suffer.
It was done in one moment."
There was no answer.
"Brother, are you not glad she did not feel the fire? Can you not thank
God for it? Speak to me."
Still no answer.
He could not be asleep! Impossible!--"Speak to me,
Gonsalvo!--_Brother!_"
She drew close to him; she touched his hand to remove it from his face.
The next moment a cry of horror rang through the house. It brought the
servants and Don Garcia himself to the room.
"He is dead! God and Our Lady have mercy on his soul!" said Don Garcia,
after a brief examination.
"If only he had had the Holy Sacrament, I could have borne it!" said
Dona Inez; and then, kneeling down beside the couch, she wept bitterly.
So passed the beggar with the King's sons, through the golden gate into
the King's own presence-chamber. His wrecked and troublous life over,
his passionate heart at rest for ever, the erring, repentant Gonsalvo
found entrance into the same heaven as D'Arellano, and Gonsalez, and
Losada, with their radiant martyr-crowns. In the many mansions there
was a place for him, as for those heroic and triumphant ones. He wore
the same robe as they--a robe washed and made white, not in the blood of
martyrs, but in the blood of the Lamb.