CHAPTER XXVII.
During the whole time of the march from Tlascala to Cholula, an unusualgloom lay upon the spirits of Calavar; and so great was his abstraction,that, though pursuing his way with a sort of instinct, he remained asinsensible to the presence of his kinsman as to the attentions of hisfollowers. He rode at a distance from the rear of the army; and such wasthe immobility of his limbs and features, saving when, stung by somesecret thought, he raised his ghastly eyes to heaven, that a stranger,passing him on the path, might have deemed that his grave charger movedalong under the weight of a stiffened corse, not yet disrobed of itsarms, rather than that of a living cavalier. When the army halted atnoon to take food, he retired, with his attendants, to the shadow of atree; where, without dismounting, or receiving the fruits which Jacintohad gathered, to tempt him to eat, he sat in the same heavy stupor,until the march was resumed. Neither food nor water crossed his lips,during the entire day; nor did the neophyte suffer any to be profferedhim, when he came to reflect that this day was an anniversary, which theknight was ever accustomed to observe with the most ascetic abstinenceand humiliation. For this reason, also, though lamenting the necessityof such an observance, he neither presumed himself to vex his kinsmanwith attentions, nor suffered any others to intrude upon his privacy,excepting, indeed, the Moorish page, whose gentle arts were so wont todispel the gathering clouds. But this day, even Jacinto failed toattract his notice; and, despairing of the power of any thing but time,to terminate the paroxysm, he ceased his efforts, and contented himselfwith keeping a distant watch on all Don Gabriel's movements, lest somedisaster might happen to him on the journey. No sooner, as had beenhinted by Fabueno, had the army arrived at its quarters in the sacredcity, than the knight betook him to the solitude of a chamber in thevery spacious building; where, after a time, he so far shook off hislethargy, as to desire the presence of the chaplain, with whom he hadremained ever since, engaged in his devotions. Hither, guided by Marco,came now Don Amador, conducting Jacinto. The interview with Cortes hadswallowed up more than an hour, and when the neophyte stood before thecurtained door of his kinsman, a light, flashing through the irregularfolds, dispelled the darkness of the chamber. As he paused for aninstant, he heard the low voice of the priest, saying,
"Sin no more with doubt.--_Spera in Deo_: grace is in heaven, and mercyknoweth no bounds.--_Misereatur tui omnipotens Deus._"
A few other murmurs came to his ear; and then the chaplain, pushingaside the curtain, issued from the apartment.
"Heaven be with thee, my son," he said to Amador; "thy kinsman isgreatly disordered, but not so much now as before."
"Is it fitting I should enter, father?"
"Thy presence may be grateful to him; but surely," he continued, in anunder voice, "it were better for the unhappy knight, if he were amongthe priests and physicians of his own land. A sore madness afflicts him:he thinks himself beset with spectres.--I would thou hadst him inSpain!"
"If heaven grant us that grace!" said Amador, sorrowfully.--"But hebelieves that God will call him to his rest, among the heathen.--Tarrythou at the door, Jacinto," he went on, when the father had departed;"have thyself in readiness, with thy lute, for perhaps he may beprevailed upon to hear thee sing; in which case, I have much hope, theevil spirit will depart from him."
He passed into the chamber: the knight was on his knees before a littlecrucifix, which he had placed on a massive Indian chair; but though hebeat his bosom with a heavy hand, no sound of prayer came from his lips.Don Amador placed himself at his side, and stood in reverential silence,until his kinsman, heaving a deep sigh, rose up, and turning his haggardcountenance towards him, said,--
"Neither penance nor prayer, neither the remorse of the heart nor thebenediction of the priest, can wipe away the sorrow that comes from sin.God alone is the forgiver;--but God will not _always_ forgive!"
"Say not so, my father," cried Amador, earnestly; "for it is a deepcrime to think that heaven is not ever merciful."
"Keep thyself free from the stain of blood-guiltiness," said DonGabriel, with a manner so mild, that the neophyte had good hope the fithad indeed left him, "and mercy will not be denied thee.--Have I notafflicted thee, my friend?" he continued faintly. "Thou wilt have muchto forgive me; but not long. I will remember, in my death hour, thatthou hast not forsaken me."
"Never will I again leave thee!" said Amador, fervently. "I forgot theeonce; and besides the pang of contrition for that act, heaven punishedme with a grief, that I should not have known, had I remained by thyside. But now, my father, wilt thou not eat and drink, and sufferJacinto to sing to thee?"
"I may neither eat nor drink this night," said Calavar; "but methinks Ican hear the innocent orphan chant the praises of the Virgin; for tosuch she will listen!"
Amador strode to the door; but Jacinto had vanished--He had stolen away,the moment that his patron entered.
"Perhaps he has gone to fetch his instrument. Run thou in search of him,Marco, and bid him hasten."
Before the novice could again address himself to his kinsman, Marcoreturned. The page was not to be found; the sentinel at the door hadseen him pass into the court-yard, but whether he had re-entered or not,he knew not;--he had not noted.
"Is it possible," thought Don Amador, "that the boy could so wilfullydisobey me? Perhaps the general hath sent for him again: for,notwithstanding all his protestations of satisfaction, it seemed to me,that, while he spoke, there was still a something lurking in his eye,which boded no good to Abdalla. I will look for the boy myself."
He charged Marco to remain by his lord, sought an audience with thegeneral, whom he found engaged in earnest debate with Duero, De Leon,and other high officers. Don Hernan satisfied him that he had not sentfor Jacinto,--that he had not thought of Abdalla; and with an apologyfor his intrusion, the novice instantly withdrew.
"The story is true!" said Cortes with a frown, "and that pestilent youngcub of heathenism has fled to give the traitor warning. But he thatpasses, unquestioned, at the gate where Sandoval stands the watchman,must have the devil for his leader, or, at least, his companion. I hopehe will not murder the boy; for he is a favourite with Calavar, a subtleknave, a good twangler; and it is natural he should play me even aknave's trick for his father!"
In the meanwhile, after hunting in vain about the different quarters ofthe building, as well as the court-yard, for the vanished Jacinto, thenovice returned to the chamber of his kinsman. But Calavar also haddisappeared,--not, indeed, in disorder, but in great apparenttranquillity; and he had commanded Marco not to follow him.
"He has gone to the fields," muttered Amador; "such is his practice atthis season: but there is no good can come of solitude. I know not whatto think of that boy; but assuredly, this time, it will be but my dutyto censure him." And so saying, Don Amador also passed into the openair.