"I haveoften been there in my boyhood; but pray proceed with your story, if youintend it to lead to anything satisfactory."
"Of course I do, my young friend," answered the Friar. "I was going totell you where the holy man resides, when you interrupted me. You mustknow, then, that beneath the hill on which the chapel stands, there is acave, which has of late years been cleared from the rubbish whichformerly blocked it up, and has been converted into a very tolerablehabitation for the summer months, during which period this holy man isconstantly there to be found, as he is at present, or was when I wasthere last, attending to the duties of the sacred edifice above. Hisgreat sanctity, his prayers, and fastings, have on many occasions beenfound to be of the greatest service, both in replenishing his pockets,and in restoring those to health who have consulted him; but his greatforte is in saying masses for the souls of the departed, which havedouble the efficacy of those of any other religious person, as heconstantly affirms, and no one can disprove, nor does any one dream ofdisputing the word of so holy a man. I am now, senhor, approaching thepoint which is of more consequence to you. You must know that thecomrades of the men, whom, as I am told, you killed in the forest, whenthey attacked the fidalgo Goncalo Christovao, were tolerably well awarethat they had a considerable share of unrepented crimes on theirconsciences; and that, consequently, their stay in purgatory would be ofrather long duration, unless great exertions were made to get them clearof it. Now, most of them having a fellow-feeling for their unfortunatefriends, turned it in their minds how they could best contrive toshorten their residence in that very unpleasant abode; and, at last, itwas agreed that they should engage the holy man I speak of, and of whomthey had all heard, to say as many masses as half the booty they hadtaken would supply, at the lowest possible rate; for which purpose, theylaid aside the very casket you are in search of. Now, it chanced that Iwas paying a visit to this holy man, who, I am proud to say, is a friendof mine; and he showed me the casket, begging me to estimate its value,that he might know how many masses he ought to say. I no sooner beheldit, than I at once recollected your request; so I told him that, thoughin Lisbon it might be sold for a larger sum, yet he would here be veryfortunate if he succeeded in receiving a hundred milreas for it,particularly as I suspected it was stolen property; for which sum hemight say fully sufficient masses to get the souls of the departedrogues quietly domesticated in the realms of Paradise. He agreed withme, that, if it did not, it must be their own fault, for being sodesperately wicked, so that there could be no help for them. I thentold him, that if he would let me have the casket, I would return withthe money for it; but it is very extraordinary, senhor, that he objectedto do so,--not, of course, that he could have any doubts about myhonesty, but that the happiness of the souls in purgatory would be atstake, if, by any chance, it was lost. I had no arguments to offer tohis objections, so I was obliged to give up the point; and I hastenedhere to inform you of the discovery I had made, that I might eitherreturn with the money, or allow you to go and fetch the casket yourself.If you still persist in so unjustly distrusting me, senhor, if you willvisit our Lady of the Rock early to-morrow morning, you will there findthe holy man performing mass. Wait till it is over, and the people havedeparted,--for the fame of his sanctity has collected many worshippersthere,--follow him to his cave, without speaking; when, if you producethe money, he will restore the casket to you; then, without staying toinquire further, return home. If, however, you will allow me to adviseyou as a friend, add twenty milreas or so to the amount, to increase thenumber of masses; for you must remember that it was by your hand the menfell, though I do not mean to say that it was not their own fault; butit will be charity well bestowed, as I fear they were wretched sinners,and, do all we can, they must remain in purgatory a long time."
Don Luis listened to this long story with considerable doubts as to thetruth of the greater part of it, yet it was so in accordance with theideas and customs of the times, that he could not altogether discreditit; he therefore answered, "I must thank you, Senhor Frade, for thetrouble you have taken in my service; and I beg you to inform your holyfriend that I will repair to his hermitage to-morrow morning, and willtake the amount agreed on to release the jewels."
"Then you will not trust me with the money, senhor?" said the Friar,smiling. "Patience--I am not easily offended, and take it all in goodpart; but do not forget the additional twenty milreas; and if you happento have a little spare cash about you to bestow on an humble andindigent servant of the Church, I shall be thankful, and will not forgetyou in my prayers; for I have come a long distance to serve you, andhave put more trust in your honour than you seem inclined to place inmine."
"I will pay you for the ring, Senhor Frade," said Don Luis, who couldnot help being amused at the imperturbable impudence of the friar;"though you seem to forget certain incidents which occurred at the inn,on my journey here,--not to mention others on the previous day."
"Now, now, you ought not to rake up old grievances," answered the Friar."It is not charitable; and charity is the first of Christian virtues,you well know. Besides, you cannot deny that I have served youfaithfully."
"I will not refuse you," said Don Luis, bestowing all the silver he hadabout him, "you argue so logically to gain your point. I trust that youwill not play me false."
"Confide in the honour of a Capuchin," said the Friar, putting his handto his heart. "May we meet again under happier auspices than those bywhich we became acquainted; and, believe me, I am grateful for yourbounty. Adeos, senhor! It is growing dark, and I have a long way to gobefore I rest; but an humble friar has nought to fear."
"Farewell, my friend!" said Don Luis. "I certainly have met none likeyou."
"Oh, you flatter--you flatter," was the answer. "Do not, however,forget your friend. Diogo Lopez is my name,--an humble one at present;but it may become some day well-known to the world. Adeos, adeos,senhor!"
Don Luis, without further parley, re-entered the Quinta, and, for someminutes, he fancied that he could hear the quiet chuckle of the friarechoing in his ears.
Early the next morning he ordered his horse, telling Pedro whither hewas going; and, putting his pistols in his holsters, with his sword byhis side,--for in those days nobody ever thought of riding, forthunarmed,--he set off for the chapel of our Lady of the Rock,--notforgetting the hundred milreas to redeem the casket, to which he addedtwenty more, to be expended for the benefit of the souls of thosemiserable men to whose deaths he had certainly contributed, though he inno way blamed himself on that account. It must be remembered that hehad been brought up in a strict belief of the religion of his country;nor had he in any way learned to doubt the main points of that faith inwhich all those dear to him confided; so that he had full confidence inthe efficacy of prayer for the souls of departed sinners; nor do we wishto dispute the point with those who profess the same creed.
The road he was obliged to take, scarcely deserving the name of one, wasso broken, and cut up into deep ruts, and covered with loose stones,that nearly an hour elapsed before he reached the foot of the littlerocky hill on which the chapel stood. There, perceiving a lad sittingon the top of a wall, "whistling for want of thought," and without anyoccupation, he called to him, and bade him hold his horse, with thepromise of a reward, while he climbed up the winding rugged path to thetop of the rock. It was an isolated height, rising far above all theneighbouring hills,--thus commanding an extensive view on every side.The little chapel was built on the highest point, with a rude stonecross in front, and surmounted by five tall pine trees, their taperstems bent by the blasts to which they were exposed, without a branchbelow their broad, ever-verdant heads. The chapel was a rough building,of merely two gable ends, and a small porch in front, facing the west;but the view fully repaid the trouble of mounting the hill, even had hecome without an object. To the south, over an undulating country,covered with fields and pine-groves, he could distinguish his father'shouse and estates; on the west, in the furthest point in the horizon,was to be seen a th
in bright line of blue, indicating the presence ofthe boundless ocean; while on the north appeared the heights of Coimbra,covered with its colleges, monasteries, and churches, below which ranthe placid stream of the Mondego, on whose willow-covered banks oncewept, with tears of anguish, the lovely and ill-fated Ines de Castro,for ever celebrated in the immortal song of Camoens. On the east,again, over a wide sea of pine-forest, which, indeed, extended on everyside of the rock, rose hill upon hill, and mountain upon mountain, tillthe furthest ridges were lost in a blue haze.
Don Luis entered the chapel, which was, as the friar told him it wouldbe, filled with country people, some beating their breasts, otherskissing the ground, and licking up the dust, and the rest rapt in anecstasy of devotion; while the little altar glittered with lightedtapers. The