CHAPTER XL.
Don Amador sought out the apartment of his kinsman, with a troubledheart. A deep dejection, in part the effect of extreme fatigue, butcaused more by the strange and melancholy events of the last twenty-fourhours, weighed upon his spirits, and had increased, ever since thespectacle of the divinity, notwithstanding the bustle and excitement ofthe conflicts which ensued.
In the passage, before he had yet reached the chamber, he stumbled uponFabueno. The secretary looked confused and abashed, as if caught in adereliction of duty; but before the cavalier could upbraid him, hecommenced his excuses.
'The opiate was strong; the knight was in a deep slumber,' he said;'and, as Marco was sitting at his side, he thought he might leave himfor a moment, to discover wherefore the soldiers had ceased fighting. Hehoped his noble patron would pardon him: he would presently return.'
"Seek thy pleasure now, Lorenzo," said the novice, with a heavy sigh."Return when thou wilt,--or not at all, if thou preferrest to rest withthy companions of last night. I will now, myself, watch by Don Gabriel."
His head sunk upon his breast, as he went on, for his heart was full ofpainful reflections. Near the door of the chamber, he was roused by astep, and looking up, he beheld the padre Olmedo approaching.
"Holy father, it rejoices me to see thee," he said "I had, indeed,thoughts to seek thee out, and claim thy benevolent counsels andaidance, but that I deemed me there were many among the wounded, andperchance the dying, who had stronger claims on thy good offices."
"Thou art not hurt, my son?"
"I have a scratch, made by the unlucky spear of a friend, but no harmfrom the enemy," said the cavalier. "I had indeed a blow also on thehead, that made my brain ring; but both, I had quite forgotten. I amwell enough in body, reverend father; and perhaps may be relieved inmind, if thou wilt vouchsafe me thy ghostly counsels."
The good Bartolome, making a gesture of assent, followed the youth intothe chamber.
The knight was, as Fabueno had declared, lost in a deep and, his kinsmanwas pleased to see, a placid, slumber; but Marco, instead of watching,lay sleeping full as soundly, hard by. This circumstance seemed toembarrass the cavalier.
"Father," said he, "I thought no less than to find the serving-manawake; and it was my intent to discharge him a moment from the chamber,not fearing that what I might say to thee, would disturb my afflictedfriend. But I have not the heart to break the rest of this old man,--avery faithful servant,--who closes not his eyes, except when to keepthem open would no longer be of service to Don Gabriel."
"He sleeps as soundly as his master," murmured the priest. "A goodconscience lies under his rough breast, or it would not heave sogently."
"My father breathes gently, too," said Amador, mournfully.
"May heaven restore him," said the padre. "His guilt lies deeper in hisimagination than in his soul."
"Dost thou think so indeed, father?" said Amador warmly, though in a lowvoice.
The father started--"The history of thy kinsman is not unknown tothee?"
"What I know is but little, save that my friend is the unhappiest ofmen," said the novice. "But heaven forbid I should seek to fathom thesecrets of the confessional. I was rejoiced to hear thee say, my kinsmanwas not so miserable as he deems himself; for indeed I have begun tothink there is something in the blood that courses in both our veins, soinclined to distemperature, that a small sin may bring us the pains ofdeep guilt, and a light sorrow pave the way to madness."
The knight and the man-at-arms lay in a slumber not to be broken by thewhispers of confession. The father retired to the remotest corner of theapartment, and Don Amador knelt humbly and penitentially at his feet. Alittle taper shed a flickering ray over his blanched and troubledforehead, as he bent forward to kiss the crucifix, extended by theconfessor.
"Buen padre," said he, "the sins I have to confess, I know thou wiltabsolve, for they are sins of a hot blood, and not a malicious heart. Ihave been awroth with those who wronged me, and thirsted to shed theirblood. For this I repent me. But the sins of pride and vanity are deepin my heart. I look about me for those acts of darkness, which shouldhave caused the grief wherewith I am afflicted; but, in my self-conceit,I cannot find them. And yet they must exist; for I am beset with devils,or bewitched!"
The father gazed uneasily from the penitent to the sleeping knight; butthe look of suspicion was unnoticed.
"We are all, as I may say, my son, beset by devils in this infidel land.They are worshipped on the altars of the false gods, and they live inthe hearts of the idolaters. But if thou hast no heavy sin on thy soul,these are such devils as thou canst better exorcise with the sword, thanI, perhaps, with prayers. I think, indeed, thou hast no such guilt; and,therefore, no cause for persecution."
"Holy father, I thought so myself, till late. But cast thine eyes onDon Gabriel. Thou seest him, once the noblest of his species, yet, now,the shadow and vapour of a man,--a wreck of reason,--a livingdeath,--for his mind hath left him. This I say to thee with muchanguish. I could strike another who said it; but it is true--He is alunatic!--It is I that have robbed him of reason. This is my sin; and Ifeel that it is heavy."
"Thou ravest, good youth. Thy love and devotion are well known; and hehath, out of his own mouth, assured me, that thy affection surpasses thelove of man. Rest thee content. A deeper cause than this, and onewherein thou hast no part, has afflicted him. An accident of war,tortured, by a moody imagination, into wilful guilt, hath turned himinto this ruin."
"It _was_ an accident, then, and no murder!" said the cavalier,joyously, though still in a whisper. "I thank God that my father isunstained with the blood of a woman."
"I may not repeat to thee secrets revealed only to God," said theconfessor; "but this much may I say, to allay thy fears,--that the blowwhich destroyed a friend, was meant for a foe; for rage veiled his eyes,and the steel was in the hands of a madman. This will assure thee, thatthou hast had no agency in his affliction, but hast ever proved histruest comfort."
"This indeed is the truth," murmured the novice, "and this convinces me,that by robbing him of his comfort, I gave him up to the persecution ofthose thoughts and memories, which have destroyed him. When I fought byhis side at Rhodes, when I followed at his back through Spain, hismalady was gentle. It brought him often fits of gloom, sometimes momentsof delirium; he was unhappy, father, but not mad. I had acquired the artto keep the evil spirit from him; and, while I remained by him, he waswell. I left him,--at his command, indeed, but he did not command me toforget him. The servant slept, and the sick man perished. While I wasgone, his infirmity returned; and the madness that brought him to thisinfidel world, though I follow him, I am not able to remove. I found himchanged; and, by my neglect, he is left incurable."
"I think, indeed, as thou sayest," replied the confessor, mildly, "thereis something in thy blood, as well as in Calavar's, which inclines toconvert what is a light fault, into a weighty sin. Thou wrongestthyself: this present misery is but the natural course of disease, andthou hast no reason to upbraid thyself with producing it."
"Father, so thought I, myself, till lately," said the cavalier,solemnly; "for we have ever in our hearts some lying spirit, thatglosses over our faults with excuses, and deludes us from remorse. Butit has been made manifest to me, by strange revealments andcoincidences, by griefs of my own as well as of others, that my neglectwas a grievous sin, not yet forgiven. And verily, now do I believe, thathad I remained true to my knight, much sorrow would have been spared toboth him and me."
"I cannot believe that thy unfaithfulness was a wrong of design," saidthe father. "If it be, make me acquainted with it, and despair not ofpardon. Thou wert parted from the knight at his own command?"
"To gather him followers for the crusade meditated against the infidelsof Barbary," said the novice,--"a brave and pious enterprise, from whichthe emperor was quickly diverted by other projects. This change beingproclaimed, there remained nothing for me to do, but, like a faithfulfriend and servant, to retu
rn to my kinsman. Had I done so, what presentaffliction and disturbing memories might not have been prevented! Know,father, for I tell thee the truth, that it was my fortune, or rather myunhappiness, to discover, at the sea-port in which I sojourned, aMoorish maiden, of so obscure, and, doubtless, so base, a birth, thateven the noble lady who gave her protection, knew not the condition ofher parents. Yet, notwithstanding this baseness of origin, and the greatpride of my own heart, (for truly I am come of the noblest blood in theland!) I was so gained upon by the beauty and excellent worth of thismaiden, (for I swear to thee, her superior lives not in the world!) thatI forgot even that she was the daughter of an idolater, and loved her."
"A Moorish infidel!" said the confessor. "It is not possible thoucouldst pledge thy faith to an unbeliever?"
"Holy father," said Don Amador, "this sin was at least spared me. Themaiden was a Christian, tenderly nurtured in all the doctrines of ourfaith, and almost ignorant that the race from which she drew her blood,knew any other; and, father, I thought, until this day, that the soul ofLeila dwelt among the seraphs. Moreover, if the plighting of troth besinful, I am again innocent; for, before I had spoken of love, she wassnatched away from me."
"She is dead, then?" demanded the padre.
"Surely, I think so," said the cavalier, mournfully; "yet I know not theliving creature that wots of her fate. Father! the sin of deserting mykinsman was first visited to me through her; and because I was a sinner,Leila perished.--_How_, father, I cannot tell thee. She vanished away bynight,--carried off, as some averred, by certain Moorish exiles, who,that night, set sail for Barbary; or, as others dreamed, murdered bysome villain, and cast into the sea; for the veil she wore, was foundthe day after, dashed ashore by the surf. But, whether she be dead, oryet living, again I say, I know not; though I affirm on the cross whichI hold in my hand, I beheld her this day, or some fiend in her likeness,under the similitude of a priestess, or a divinity, I know not which,carried on the shoulders of the infidels, and by them worshipped!"
The confessor started back in alarm, surveying the excited features ofthe penitent, and again cast his eyes towards Don Gabriel. Then, layinghis hand on the head of the cavalier, he said, gently, but warningly,--
"Cast such thoughts from thee, lest thou become like to thy kinsman!"
"Ay!" cried the cavalier, clasping his hands, and turning an eye ofhorror on the father,--"thou speakest confirmation of mine own fears;for I have said to myself, this is a frenzy, and therefore I have come,at last, to be like my kinsman! The thing that I have seen, is _not_;and the reason that made me a man, has fled from me!"
"Nay, I meant not that," said the padre, endeavouring to soothe theagitation he had, in part, caused. "I desired only to have thee guardthyself against the effects of thy fancy, which is, at present, greatlyover-excited. I believe that thou didst indeed see some pagan maiden,strongly resembling the Moorish Leila;--a circumstance greatly aided bythe similarity of hue between the two races."
"And dost thou think," said the cavalier, his indignation rising inspite of his grief, "that the adored and most angelic Leila could, inany wise, resemble the coarse maids of this copper-tinted, barbarouspeople? I swear to thee, she was fairer than the Spanish girls ofAlmeria, and a thousand times more beautiful!"
"In this I will not contend with thee," said the father, benignantly,well satisfied that anger should take the place of a more perilouspassion. "But I may assure thee, that, among the princesses of the royalhousehold, whom, I think, thou hast not yet seen, there are manywondrous lovely to look upon; and, to show thee that even a barbarianmay resemble a Christian, it is only needful to mention that when, atour first coming to these shores, the portrait of Cortes, done by anIndian painter, was carried to Montezuma, he sent to us, by the nextmessengers, with rich presents, a noble of his court so stronglyresembling Don Hernan, both in figure and visage, that we were allfilled with amazement."
"Well, indeed, thou speakest to me words of comfort," said Don Amador,more composedly, though still very sadly; "but I would to heaven I mightlook again on this woman, or this fiend, for I know not if she may notbe a devil! In truth, I thought I beheld a spectre, when she turned hereyes upon me; and, oh father! you may judge my grief, when thusthinking, and beholding her a spirit worshipped by idolaters, I knew shemust be of the accursed!"
"I have heard of this woman from others who beheld her," said thefather, "and, I doubt not, she is a mortal woman, esteemed holy, becausea priestess, and therefore received by the people with those marks ofrespect, which thou didst mistake for adoration. It was reported to me,that she was of marvellous great beauty."
"Marvellous, indeed!" said the youth. "But, father, here is anothercircumstance that greatly troubled me; and, in good sooth, it troublesme yet. It is known to thee that my kinsman had, until yesternight, alittle page,--a Moorish boy, greatly beloved by us both. As for myself,I loved him because he was of the race of Leila; and I protest to thee,unnatural as it may seem, I bore not for my young brother a greateraffection than for this most unlucky urchin. A foolish fellow chargedhim to be an enchanter; and sometimes I bethink me of the accusation,and suppose he has given me magical love-potions. Last night he wassnatched away, I cannot say how; but what is very wonderful, my kinsmanand two of his people saw, almost at the same moment, a terrificphantom. Father, you smile! If it were not for my sorrow, I could smiletoo, and at myself; for greatly am I changed, since I set foot on thisheathen land. A month since, I held a belief in ghosts and witchcraft tobe absurd, and even irreligious. At this moment, there is no menial inthis palace more given over to doubts and fears, and more superstitious.Is not this the first breathing of that horrible malady?"
"It is the first perplexity of a scene of novelty and excitement.Fatigue doth itself produce a temporary distraction, as is very evidentwhen we come to fling our over-worn bodies on our couches, to sleep.This is the land of devils, because of idolaters; and I may not deny,that the fiends have here greater power to haunt us with supernaturalapparitions, than in the lands of our true religion. Yet it is not wellto yield too ready a belief to such revelations; for heaven will notpermit them, without a purpose. Rather think that the infirmity of thykinsman, and the ignorance of his people, were deluded by an accidentaldeception, which a cooler observer might have penetrated, than by anyreal vision. But what wert thou saying of the Moorish page?"
"Father," said Amador, earnestly, "at the moment, when the train thatsurrounded that wonderful priestess, alarmed to see me rush towardsthem, (for that supernatural resemblance did greatly move me,) fled intothe temple, I heard the voice of Jacinto screaming aloud among theinfidels, as if, that moment, offered by them a victim to their accurseddivinities."
"God be with his soul, if it be so!" said the confessor, "for barbarousand bloody in their fanaticism are the reprobates of Tenochtitlan. Yet Iwould have thee, even in this matter, to be of good heart; for it isbelieved among us, that Abdalla, his father, has been received into theservice of the Mexican nobles, to teach them how to resist our arts, andhow to compass our destruction; and it must be evident, that for thattraitor's sake, they will spare his boy, stolen away from us, as itappears to me to be proven, by the knave Abdalla himself. But think thouno more of the boy. He was born to inherit the perfidy of his race;deception and ingratitude have rendered him unworthy of thy care; andif, some day, the nobles should yield him to the priests for a victim,it will be but a just punishment for his baseness. Give thy mind toother thoughts, and refresh thy body with sleep; for much need have weof all the assistance thou canst now render us. Sleep, and prepare forother combats; for this day is but the prologue of a tragedy, whose endmay be more bloody and dreadful than we have yet imagined. Thy soul iswithout stain, and heaven absolves thee of sin. Brood over no moregloomy thoughts; believe that Providence overshadows thee; sleep intranquillity; and be prepared for the morning."
The good father concluded the rite of absolution with a blessingparental and holy, and stole away from the chamber. Don Amador sighedhe
avily, but with a relieved mind, as he rose from his knees. He gazedupon the marble features of the sleeping knight, smoothed the coveringsoftly and tenderly about his emaciated frame, and then crept to his owncouch. His thoughts were many and wild, but exhaustion brought slumberto his eyelids; and starting, ever and anon, at some elfinrepresentation of the captive page, or the lost maid of Almeria, bendingover him with eyes of wo, he fell, at last, into a sleep, so profound,that it was no longer disturbed by visions.