The Historical Nights' Entertainment: Second Series

  III. THE HERMOSA FEMBRA

  An Episode of the Inquisition in Seville

  Apprehension hung like a thundercloud over the city of Seville in thoseearly days of the year 1481. It had been growing since the previousOctober, when the Cardinal of Spain and Frey Tomas de Torquemada,acting jointly on behalf of the Sovereigns--Ferdinand and Isabella--hadappointed the first inquisitors for Castile, ordering them to set up aTribunal of the Faith in Seville, to deal with the apostatizing said tobe rampant among the New-Christians, or baptized Jews, who made up solarge a proportion of the population.

  Among the many oppressive Spanish enactments against the Childrenof Israel, it was prescribed that all should wear the distinguishingcirclet of red cloth on the shoulder of their gabardines; that theyshould reside within the walled confines of their ghettos and never befound beyond them after nightfall, and that they should not practice asdoctors, surgeons, apothecaries, or innkeepers. The desire to emancipatethemselves from these and other restrictions upon their commerce withChristians and from the generally intolerable conditions of bondageand ignominy imposed upon them, had driven many to accept baptism andembrace Christianity.

  But even such New-Christians as were sincere in their professions offaith failed to find in this baptism the peace they sought. Bitterracial hostility, though sometimes tempered, was never extinguished bytheir conversion.

  Hence the alarm with which they viewed the gloomy, funereal, sinisterpageant--the white-robed, black-mantled and hooded inquisitors, withtheir attendant familiars and barefoot friars--headed by a Dominicanbearing the white Cross, which invaded the city of Seville one daytowards the end of December and took its way to the Convent of St. Paul,there to establish the Holy Office of the Inquisition. The fear of theNew-Christians that they were to be the object of the attentions of thisdread tribunal had sufficed to drive some thousands of them out of thecity, to seek refuge in such feudal lordships as those of the Duke ofMedina Sidonia, the Marquis of Cadiz, and the Count of Arcos.

  This exodus had led to the publication by the newly appointedinquisitors of the edict of 2nd January, in which they set forththat inasmuch as it had come to their knowledge that many persons haddeparted out of Seville in fear of prosecution upon grounds of hereticalpravity, they commanded the nobles of the Kingdom of Castile that withinfifteen days they should make an exact return of the persons of bothsexes who had sought refuge in their lordships or jurisdictions; thatthey arrest all these and lodge them in the prison of the Inquisition inSeville, confiscating their property, and holding it at the disposalof the inquisitors; that none should shelter any fugitive under painof greater excommunication and of other penalties by law establishedagainst abettors of heretics.

  The harsh injustice that lay in this call to arrest men and women merelybecause they had departed from Seville before departure was in any wayforbidden, revealed the severity with which the inquisitors intended toproceed. It completed the consternation of the New-Christians who hadremained behind, and how numerous these were may be gathered from thefact that in the district of Seville alone they numbered a hundredthousand, many of them occupying, thanks to the industry and talentcharacteristic of their race, positions of great eminence. It evendisquieted the well-favoured young Don Rodrigo de Cardona, who in allhis vain, empty, pampered and rather vicious life had never yet knownperturbation. Not that he was a New-Christian. He was of a lineage thatwent back to the Visigoths, of purest red Castilian blood, untainted byany strain of that dark-hued, unclean fluid alleged to flow in Hebrewveins. But it happened that he was in love with the daughter of themillionaire Diego de Susan, a girl whose beauty was so extraordinarythat she was known throughout Seville and for many a mile around asla Hermosa Fembra; and he knew that such commerce--licit or illicitlyconducted--was disapproved by the holy fathers. His relations with thegirl had been perforce clandestine, because the disapproval of the holyfathers was matched in thoroughness by that of Diego de Susan. It hadbeen vexatious enough on that account not to be able to boast himselfthe favoured of the beautiful and opulent Isabella de Susan; it wasexasperating to discover now a new and more imperative reason for thisodious secrecy.

  Never sped a lover to his mistress in a frame of mind more aggrievedthan that which afflicted Don Rodrigo as, tight-wrapped in his blackcloak, he gained the Calle de Ataud on that January night.

  Anon, however, when by way of a garden gate and an easily escaladedbalcony he found himself in the presence of Isabella, the delight of hereffaced all other considerations. Her father was from home, as she hadtold him in the note that summoned him; he was away at Palacios on somemerchant's errand, and would not return until the morrow. The servantswere all abed, and so Don Rodrigo might put off his cloak and hat, andlounge at his ease upon the low Moorish divan, what time she waited uponhim with a Saracen goblet filled with sweet wine of Malaga. The room inwhich she received him was one set apart for her own use, her bower, along, low ceilinged chamber, furnished with luxury and taste. The wallswere hung with tapestries, the floor spread with costly Eastern rugs;on an inlaid Moorish table a tall, three-beaked lamp of beaten coppercharged with aromatic oil shed light and perfume through the apartment.

  Don Rodrigo sipped his wine, and his dark, hungry eyes followed her asshe moved about him with vaguely voluptuous, almost feline grace. Thewine, the heavy perfume of the lamp, and the beauty of her playedhavoc among them with his senses, so that he forgot for the moment hisCastilian lineage and clean Christian blood, forgot that she derivedfrom the accursed race of the Crucifiers. All that he remembered wasthat she was the loveliest woman in Seville, daughter to the wealthiestman, and in that hour of weakness he decided to convert into realitythat which had hitherto been no more than an infamous presence. He wouldloyally fulfil the false, disloyal promises he had made. He would takeher to wife. It was a sacrifice which her beauty and her wealth shouldmake worth while. Upon that impulse he spoke now, abruptly:

  "Isabella, when will you marry me?"

  She stood before him, looking down into his weak, handsome face, herfingers interlacing his own. She merely smiled. The question didnot greatly move her. Not knowing him for the scoundrel that he was,guessing nothing of the present perturbation of his senses, she found itvery natural that he should ask her to appoint the day.

  "It is a question you must ask my father," she answered him.

  "I will," said he, "to-morrow, on his return." And he drew her downbeside him.

  But that father was nearer than either of them dreamed. At that verymoment the soft thud of the closing housedoor sounded through the house.It brought her sharply to her feet, and loose from his coiling arms,with quickened breath and blanching face. A moment she hung there,tense, then sped to the door of the room, set it ajar and listened.

  Up the stairs came the sound of footsteps and of muttering voices. Itwas her father, and others with him.

  With ever-mounting fear she turned to Don Rodrigo, and breathed thequestion: "If they should come here?"

  The Castilian stood where he had risen by the divan, his face palernow than its pale, aristocratic wont, his eyes reflecting the fear thatglittered in her own. He had no delusion as to what action Diego deSusan would take upon discovering him. These Jewish dogs were quicklystirred to passion, and as jealous as their betters of the honour oftheir womenfolk. Already Don Rodrigo in imagination saw his clean redChristian blood bespattering that Hebrew floor, for he had no weaponsave the heavy Toledo dagger at his girdle, and Diego de Susan was notalone.

  It was, he felt, a ridiculous position for a Hidalgo of Spain. But hisdignity was to suffer still greater damage. In another moment she hadbundled him into an alcove behind the arras at the chamber's end, a tinycloset that was no better than a cupboard contrived for the storing ofhousehold linen. She had-moved with a swift precision which at anothertime might have provoked his admiration, snatching up his cloak and hat,and other evidences of his presence, quenching the lamp, and dragginghim to that place of cramped concealment, which she remained to sh
arewith him.

  Came presently movements in the room beyond, and the voice of herfather:

  "We shall be securest from intrusion here. It is my daughter's room.If you will give me leave, I will go down again to admit our otherfriends."

  Those other friends, as Don Rodrigo gathered, continued to arrive forthe next half-hour, until in the end there must have been some twentyof them assembled in that chamber. The mutter of voices had steadilyincreased, but so confused that no more than odd words, affording noclue to the reason of this gathering, had reached the hidden couple.

  And then quite suddenly a silence fell, and on that silence beat thesharp, clear voice of Diego de Susan addressing them.

  "My friends," he said, "I have called you hither that we may concertmeasures for the protection of ourselves and all New-Christians inSeville from the fresh peril by which we are menaced. The edict of theinquisitors reveals how much we have to fear. You may gather from itthat the court of the Holy Office is hardly likely to deal in justice,and that the most innocent may find himself at any moment exposed toits cruel mercies. Therefore it is for us now to consider how to protectourselves and our property from the unscrupulous activities of thistribunal. You are the principal New Christian citizens of Seville;you are wealthy, not only in property, but also in the goodwill of thepeople, who trust and respect, and at need will follow, you. If nothingless will serve, we must have recourse to arms; and so that weare resolute and united, my friends, we shall prevail against theinquisitors."

  Within the alcove, Don Rodrigo felt his skin roughening with horror atthis speech, which breathed sedition not only against the Sovereigns,but against the very Church. And with his horror was blent a certainincrease of fear. If his situation had been perilous before, it wastenfold more dangerous now. Discovery, since he had overheard thistreason, must mean his certain death. And Isabella, realizing the sameto the exclusion of all else, clutched his arm and cowered against himin the dark.

  There was worse to follow. Susan's address was received with a murmurof applause, and then others spoke, and several were named, and theirpresence thus disclosed. There was the influential Manuel Sauli, whonext to Susan was the wealthiest man in Seville; there was Torralba, theGovernor of Triana; Juan Abolafio, the farmer of the royal customs, andhis brother Fernandez, the licentiate, and there were others--all ofthem men of substance, some even holding office under the Crown. Not onewas there who dissented from anything that Susan had said; rather dideach contribute some spur to the general resolve. In the end it wasconcerted that each of those present should engage himself to raise aproportion of the men, arms and money that would be needed for theirenterprise. And upon that the meeting was dissolved, and they departed.Susan himself went with them. He had work to do in the common cause, heannounced, and he would do it that very night in which it was supposedthat he was absent at Palacios.

  At last, when all had gone, and the house was still again, Isabella andher lover crept forth from their concealment, and in the light of thelamp which Susan had left burning each looked into the other's white,startled face. So shaken was Don Rodrigo with horror of what he hadoverheard, and with the terror of discovery, that it was with difficultyhe kept his teeth from chattering.

  "Heaven protect us!" he gasped. "What Judaizing was this?"

  "Judaizing!" she echoed. It was the term applied to apostacy, to therelapse of New-Christians to Judaism, an offense to be expiated at thestake. "Here was no Judaizing. Are you mad, Rodrigo? You heard no singleword that sinned against the Faith."

  "Did I not? I heard treason enough to."

  "No, nor treason either. You heard honourable, upright men consideringmeasures of defence against oppression, injustice, and evilacquisitiveness masquerading in the holy garments of religion."

  He stared askance at her for a moment, then his full lips curled into asneer. "Of course you would seek to justify them," he said. "You are ofthat foul brood yourself. But you cannot think to cozen me, who am ofclean Old-christian blood and a true son of Mother Church. These menplot evil against the Holy Inquisition. Is that not Judaizing when it isdone by Jews?"

  She was white to the lips, and a new horror stared at him from hergreat dark eyes; her lovely bosom rose and fell in tumult. Yet still shesought to reason with him.

  "They are not Jews--not one of them. Why, Perez is himself in holyorders. All of them are Christians, and..."

  "Newly-baptized!" he broke in, sneering viciously. "A defilement of thatholy sacrament to gain them worldly advantages. That is revealed by whatpassed here just now. Jews they were born, the sons of Jews, and Jewsthey remain under their cloak of mock Christianity, to be damned asJews in the end." He was panting now with fiery indignation; a holy zealinflamed this profligate defiler. "God forgive me that ever I enteredhere. Yet I do believe that it was His will that I should come tooverhear what is being plotted. Let me depart from hence."

  With a passionate gesture of abhorrence he swung towards the door. Herclutch upon his arm arrested him.

  "Whither do you go?" she asked him sharply. He looked now into her eyes,and of all that they contained he saw only fear; he saw nothing of thehatred into which her love had been transmuted in that moment by hisunsparing insults to herself, her race and her home, by the purposewhich she clearly read in him.

  "Whither?" he echoed, and sought to shake her off.

  "Whither my Christian duty bids me."

  It was enough for her. Before he could prevent or suspect her purpose,she had snatched the heavy Toledo blade from his girdle, and armed withit stood between the door and him.

  "A moment, Don Rodrigo. Do not attempt to advance, or, as Heaven watchesus, I strike, and it maybe that I shall kill you. We must talk awhilebefore you go."

  Amazed, chapfallen, half-palsied, he stood before her, his finereligious zeal wiped out by fear of that knife in her weak woman's hand.Rapidly to-night was she coming into real knowledge of this Castiliangentleman, whom with pride she had taken for her lover. It was aknowledge that was to sear her presently with self-loathing andself-contempt. But for the moment her only consideration was that, as adirect result of her own wantonness, her father stood in mortal peril.If he should perish through the deletion of this creature, she wouldaccount herself his slayer.

  "You have not considered that the deletion you intend will destroy myfather," she said quietly.

  "There is my Christian duty to consider," answered he, but withoutboldness now.

  "Perhaps. But there is something you must set against it. Have you noduty as a lover--no duty to me?"

  "No earthly duty can weigh against a spiritual obligation...."

  "Ah, wait! Have patience. You have not well considered, that is plain.In coming here in secret you wronged my father. You will not trouble todeny it.

  "Jointly we wronged him, you and I. Will you then take advantage ofsomething learnt whilst you were hiding there like a thief from theconsequences of what you did, and so do him yet this further wrong?"

  "Must I wrong my conscience?" he asked her sullenly.

  "Indeed, I fear you must."

  "Imperil my immortal soul?" He almost laughed.

  "You talk in vain."

  "But I have something more than words for you." With her left hand shedrew upon the fine gold chain about her neck, and brought forth a tinyjewelled cross. Passing the chain over her head, she held it out.

  "Take this," she bade him. "Take it, I say. Now, with that sacred symbolin your hand, make solemn oath to divulge no word of what you havelearnt here tonight, or else resign yourself to an unshriven death. Foreither you take that oath, or I rouse the servants and have you dealtwith as one who has intruded here unbidden for an evil end." She backedaway from him as she spoke, and threw wide the door. Then, confrontinghim from the threshold, she admonished him again, her voice no louderthan a whisper. "Quick now! Resolve yourself. Will you die here with allyour sins upon you, and so destroy for all eternity the immortal soulthat urges you to this betrayal, or will you take the oath
that Irequire?"

  He began an argument that was like a sermon of the Faith. But she cuthim short. "For the last time!" she bade him. "Will you decide?"

  He chose the coward's part, of course, and did violence tomb fineconscience. With the cross in his hand he repeated after her the wordsof the formidable oath that she administered, an oath which it must damnhis immortal soul to break. Because of that, because she imagined thatshe had taken the measure of his faith, she returned him his dagger,and let him go at last. She imagined that she had bound him fast inirrefragable spiritual bonds.

  And even on the morrow, when her father and all those who had beenpresent at that meeting at Susan's house were arrested by order of theHoly Office of the Inquisition, she still clung to that belief. Yetpresently a doubt crept in, a doubt that she must at all costs resolve.And so presently she called for her litter, and had herself carried tothe Convent of St. Paul, where she asked to see Frey Alonso de Ojeda,the Prior of the Dominicans of Seville.

  She was left to wait in a square, cheerless, dimly-lighted room pervadedby a musty smell, that had for only furniture a couple of chairs anda praying-stool, and for only ornament a great, gaunt crucifix hangingupon one of its whitewashed walls.

  Thither came presently two Dominican friars. One of these was aharsh-featured man of middle height and square build, the uncompromisingzealot Ojeda. The other was tall and lean, stooping slightly at theshoulders, haggard and pale of countenance, with deep-set, luminous darkeyes, and a tender, wistful mouth. This was the Queen's confessor, FreyTomas de Torquemada, Grand Inquisitor of Castile. He approached her,leaving Ojeda in the background, and stood a moment regarding her witheyes of infinite kindliness and compassion.

  "You are the daughter of that misguided man, Diego de Susan," he said,in a gentle voice. "God help and strengthen you, my child, against thetrials that may be in store for you. What do you seek at our poor hands?Speak, child, without fear."

  "Father," she faltered, "I come to implore your pity."

  "No need to implore it, child. Should I withhold pity who stand myselfin need of pity, being a sinner--as are we all."

  "It is for my father that I come to beg your mercy."

  "So I supposed." A shade crossed the gentle, wistful face; the tendermelancholy deepened in the eyes that regarded her. "If your father isinnocent of what has been alleged against him, the benign tribunal ofthe Holy Office will bring his innocence to light, and rejoice therein;if he is guilty, if he has strayed--as we may all stray unless fortifiedby heavenly grace--he shall be given the means of expiation, that hissalvation may be assured him."

  She shivered at the words. She knew the mercy in which the inquisitorsdealt, a mercy so spiritual that it took no account of the temporalagonies inflicted to ensure it.

  "My father is innocent of any sin against the Faith," said she.

  "Are you so sure?" croaked the harsh voice of Ojeda, breaking in."Consider well. Remember that your duty as a Christian is above yourduty as a daughter."

  Almost had she bluntly demanded the name of her father's accuser, thatthus she might reach the object of her visit. Betimes she checked therash impulse, perceiving that subtlety was here required; that a directquestion would close the door to all information. Skilfully, then, shechose her line of attack.

  "I am sure," she exclaimed, "that he is a more fervent and piousChristian--New-Christian though he be--than his accuser."

  The wistfulness faded from Torquemada's eyes. They grew keen, as becamethe eyes of an inquisitor, the eyes of a sleuth, quick to fasten on aspoor. But he shook his head.

  Ojeda advanced. "That I cannot believe," said he. "The deletion wasmade from a sense of duty so pure that the delator did not hesitate toconfess the sin of his own commission through which he had discoveredthe treachery of Don Diego and his associates."

  She could have cried out in anguish at this answer to her unspokenquestion. Yet she controlled herself, and that no single doubt shouldlinger, she thrust boldly home.

  "He confessed it?" she cried, seemingly aghast. The friar slowly nodded."Don Rodrigo confessed?" she insisted, as will the incredulous.

  Abruptly the friar nodded again; and as abruptly checked, recollectinghimself.

  "Don Rodrigo?" he echoed, and asked: "Who mentioned Don Rodrigo?"

  But it was too late. His assenting nod had betrayed the truth, hadconfirmed her worst fear. She swayed a little; the room swam roundher, she felt as she would swoon. Then blind indignation against thatforsworn betrayer surged to revive her. If it was through her weaknessand undutifulness that her father had been destroyed, through herstrength should he be avenged, though in doing so she pulled down anddestroyed herself.

  "And he confessed to his own sin?" she was repeating slowly, ever onthat musing, incredulous note. "He dared confess himself a Judaizer?"

  "A Judaizer!" Sheer horror now overspread the friar's grim countenance."A Judaizer! Don Rodrigo? Oh, impossible!"

  "But I thought you said he had confessed."

  "Why, yes, but... but not to that." Her pale lips smiled, sadlycontemptuous.

  "I see. He set limits of prudence upon his confession. He left outhis Judatting practices. He did not tell you, for instance, that thisdeletion was an act of revenge against me who refused to marry him,having discovered his unfaith, and fearing its consequences in thisworld and the next."

  Ojeda stared at her in sheer, incredulous amazement.

  And then Torquemada spoke: "Do you say that Don Rodrigo de Cardona is aJudaizer? Oh, it is unbelievable."

  "Yet I could give you evidence that should convince you."

  "Then so you shall. It is your sacred duty, lest you become an abettorof heresy, and yourself liable to the extreme penalty."

  It would be a half-hour later, perhaps, when she quitted the Conventof St. Paul to return home, with Hell in her heart, knowing in life nopurpose but that of avenging the parent her folly had destroyed. As shewas being carried past the Alcazar, she espied across the open spacea tall, slim figure in black, in whom she recognized her lover, andstraightway she sent the page who paced beside her litter to call him toher side. The summons surprised him after what had passed between them;moreover, considering her father's present condition, he was reluctantto be seen in attendance upon the beautiful, wealthy Isabella de Susan.Nevertheless, urged on by curiosity, he went.

  Her greeting increased his surprise.

  "I am in deep distress, Rodrigo, as you may judge," she told him sadly."You will have heard what has befallen my father?"

  He looked at her sharply, yet saw nothing but loveliness rendered moreappealing by sorrow. Clearly she did not suspect him of betrayal; didnot realize that an oath extorted by violence--and an oath, moreover, tobe false to a sacred duty--could not be accounted binding.

  "I... I heard of it an hour ago," he lied a thought unsteadily. "I... Icommiserate you deeply."

  "I deserve commiseration," answered she, "and so does my poor father,and those others. It is plain that amongst those he trusted there wasa traitor, a spy, who went straight from that meeting to inform againstthem. If I but had a list it were easy to discover the betrayer. Oneneed but ascertain who is the one of all who were present whose arresthas been omitted." Her lovely sorrowful eyes turned full upon him. "Whatis to become of me now, alone in the world?" she asked him. "My fatherwas my only friend."

  The subtle appeal of her did its work swiftly. Besides, he saw here anoble opportunity worth surely some little risk.

  "Your only friend?" he asked her thickly. "Was there no one else? Isthere no one else, Isabella?"

  "There was," she said, and sighed heavily. "But after what befell lastnight, when... You know what is in my mind. I was distraught then,mad with fear for this poor father of mine, so that I could not evenconsider his sin in its full heinousness, nor see how righteous was yourintent to inform against him. Yet I am thankful that it was not byyour deletion that he was taken. The thought of that is to-day my onlyconsolation."

  They had reached he
r house by now. Don Rodrigo put forth his arm toassist her to alight from her litter, and begged leave to accompany herwithin. But she denied him.

  "Not now--though I am grateful to you, Rodrigo. Soon, if you will comeand comfort me, you may. I will send you word when I am more able toreceive you--that is, if I am forgiven for..."

  "Not another word," he begged her. "I honour you for what you did. It isI who should sue to you for forgiveness."

  "You are very noble and generous, Don Rodrigo. God keep you!" And so sheleft him.

  She had found him--had she but known it--a dejected, miserable man inthe act of reckoning up all that he had lost. In betraying Susan he hadacted upon an impulse that sprang partly from rage, and partly froma sense of religious duty. In counting later the cost to himself,he cursed the folly of his rage, and began to wonder if such strictobservance of religious duty was really worth while to a man who had hisway to make in the world. In short, he was in the throes of reaction.But now, in her unsuspicion, he found his hopes revive. She need neverknow. The Holy Office preserved inviolate secrecy on the score ofdeletions--since to do otherwise might be to discourage delators--andthere were no confrontations of accuser and accused, such as took placein temporal courts. Don Rodrigo left the Calle de Ataud better pleasedwith the world than he had been since morning.

  On the morrow he went openly to visit her; but he was denied, a servantannouncing her indisposed. This fretted him, damped his hopes, andthereby increased his longing. But on the next day he received from hera letter which made him the most ample amends:

  "Rodrigo,--There is a matter on which we must come early to anunderstanding. Should my poor father be convicted of heresy andsentenced, it follows that his property will be confiscated, since asthe daughter of a convicted heretic I may not inherit. For myself I carelittle; but I am concerned for you, Rodrigo, since if in spite of whathas happened you would still wish to make me your wife, as you declaredon Monday, it would be my wish to come to you well dowered. Now theinheritance which would be confiscated by the Holy Office from thedaughter of a heretic might not be so confiscated from the wife of agentleman of Castile. I say no more. Consider this well, and decide asyour heart dictates. I shall receive you to-morrow if you come to me.

  "Isabella."

  She bade him consider well. But the matter really needed littleconsideration. Diego de Susan was sure to go to the fire. His fortunewas estimated at ten million maravedis. That fortune, it seemed, Rodrigowas given the chance to make his own by marrying the beautiful Isabellaat once, before sentence came to be passed upon her father. TheHoly Office might impose a fine, but would not go further where theinheritance of a Castilian nobleman of clean lineage was concerned. Hewas swayed between admiration of her shrewdness and amazement at his owngood fortune. Also his vanity was immensely flattered.

  He sent her three lines to protest his undying love, and his resolveto marry her upon the morrow, and went next day in person, as she hadbidden him, to carry out the resolve.

  She received him in the mansion's best room, a noble chamber furnishedwith a richness such as no other house in Seville could have boasted.She had arrayed herself for the interview with an almost wanton cunningthat should enhance her natural endowments. Her high-waisted gown,low-cut and close-fitting in the bodice, was of cloth of gold, edgedwith miniver at skirt and cuffs and neck. On her white bosom hung apriceless carcanet of limpid diamonds, and through the heavy tresses ofher bronze-coloured hair was coiled a string of lustrous pearls. Neverhad Don Rodrigo found her more desirable; never had he felt so secureand glad in his possession of her. The quickening blood flushing now hisolive face, he gathered her slim shapeliness into his arms, kissing hercheek, her lips, her neck.

  "My pearl, my beautiful, my wife!" he murmured, rapturously. Then addedthe impatient question: "The priest? Where is the priest that shall makeus one?"

  Deep, unfathomable eyes looked up to meet his burning glance.Languorously she lay against his breast, and her red lips parted in asmile that maddened him.

  "You love me, Rodrigo--in spite of all?"

  "Love you!" It was a throbbing, strangled cry, an almost inarticulateejaculation. "Better than life--better than salvation."

  She fetched a sigh, as of deep content, and nestled closer. "Oh, I amglad--so glad--that your love for me is truly strong. I am about to putit to the test, perhaps."

  He held her very close. "What is this test, beloved?"

  "It is that I want this marriage knot so tied that it shall beindissoluble save by death."

  "Why, so do I," quoth he, who had so much to gain.

  "And, therefore, because after all, though I profess Christianity, thereis Jewish blood in my veins, I would have a marriage that must satisfyeven my father when he regains his freedom, as I believe he will--for,after all, he is not charged with any sin against the faith."

  She paused, and he was conscious of a premonitory chill upon his ardour.

  "What do you mean?" he asked her, and his voice was strained.

  "I mean--you'll not be angry with me?--I mean that I would have usmarried not only by a Christian priest, and in the Christian manner,but also and first of all by a Rabbi, and in accordance with the Jewishrites."

  Upon the words, she felt his encircling arms turn limp, and relax theirgrip upon her, whereupon she clung to him the more tightly.

  "Rodrigo! Rodrigo! If you truly love me, if you truly want me, you'llnot deny me this condition, for I swear to you that once I am your wifeyou shall never hear anything again to remind you that I am of Jewishblood."

  His face turned ghastly pale, his lips writhed and twitched, and beadsof sweat stood out upon his brow.

  "My God!" he groaned. "What do you ask? I... I can't. It were adesecration, a defilement."

  She thrust him from her in a passion. "You regard it so? You protestlove, and in the very hour when I propose to sacrifice all to you, youwill not make this little sacrifice for my sake, you even insult thefaith that was my forbears', if it is not wholly mine. I misjudged you,else I had not bidden you here to-day. I think you had better leave me."

  Trembling, appalled, a prey to an ineffable tangle of emotion, he soughtto plead, to extenuate his attitude, to move her from her own. He rantedtorrentially, but in vain. She stood as cold and aloof as earlier shehad been warm and clinging. He had proved the measure of his love. Hecould go his ways.

  The thing she proposed was to him, as he had truly said, a desecration,a defilement. Yet to have dreamed yourself master of ten millionmaravedis, and a matchless woman, is a dream not easily relinquished.There was enough cupidity in his nature, enough neediness in hiscondition, to make the realization of that dream worth the defilement ofthe abominable marriage rites upon which she insisted. But fear remainedwhere Christian scruples were already half-effaced.

  "You do not realize," he cried. "If it were known that I so much ascontemplated this, the Holy Office would account it clear proof ofapostasy, and send me to the fire."

  "If that were your only objection it were easily overcome," she informedhim coldly. "For who should ever inform against you? The Rabbi who iswaiting above-stairs dare not for his own life's sake betray us, and whoelse will ever know?"

  "You can be sure of that?"

  He was conquered. But she played him yet awhile, compelling him in histurn to conquer the reluctance which his earlier hesitation had begottenin her, until it was he who pleaded insistently for this Jewish marriagethat filled him with such repugnance.

  And so at last she yielded, and led him up to that bower of hers inwhich the conspirators had met.

  "Where is the Rabbi?" he asked impatiently, looking round that emptyroom.

  "I will summon him if you are quite sure that you desire him."

  "Sure? Have I not protested enough? Can you still doubt me?"

  "No," she said. She stood apart, conning him steadily. "Yet I would nothave it supposed that you were in any way coerced to this." They wereodd words; but he heeded not their oddness. He was hardly ma
ster of thewits which in themselves were never of the brightest. "I require youto declare that it is your own desire that our marriage should besolemnized in accordance with the Jewish rites and the law of Moses."

  And he, fretted now by impatience, anxious to have this thing done andended, made answer hastily:

  "Why, to be sure I do declare it to be my wish that we should be somarried--in the Jewish manner, and in accordance with the law of Moses.And now, where is the Rabbi?" He caught a sound and saw a quiver inthe tapestries that masked the door of the alcove. "Ah! He is here, Isuppose...."

  He checked abruptly, and recoiled as from a blow, throwing up his handsin a convulsive gesture. The tapestry had been swept aside, and forthstepped not the Rabbi he expected, but a tall, gaunt man, stoopingslightly at the shoulders, dressed in the white habit and black cloak ofthe order of St. Dominic, his face lost in the shadows of a black cowl.Behind him stood two lay brothers of the order, two armed familiars ofthe Holy Office, displaying the white cross on their sable doublets.

  Terrified by that apparition, evoked, as it seemed, by those terriblydamning words he had pronounced, Don Rodrigo stood blankly at gaze amoment, not even seeking to understand how this dread thing had come topass.

  The friar pushed back his cowl, as he advanced, and displayed thetender, compassionate, infinitely wistful countenance of Frey Tomas deTorquemada. And infinitely compassionate and wistful came the voice ofthat deeply sincere and saintly man.

  "My son, I was told this of you--that you were a Judaizer--yet beforeI could bring myself to believe so incredible a thing in one of yourlineage, I required the evidence of my own senses. Oh, my poor child, bywhat wicked counsels have you been led so far astray?" The sweet, tendereyes of the inquisitor were luminous with unshed tears. Sorrowing pityshook his gentle voice.

  And then Don Rodrigo's terror changed to wrath, and this exploded. Heflung out an arm towards Isabella in passionate denunciation.

  "It was that woman who bewitched and fooled and seduced me into this. Itwas a trap she baited for my undoing."

  "It was, indeed. She had my consent to do so, to test the faith which Iwas told you lacked. Had your heart been free of heretical pravity thetrap had never caught you; had your faith been strong, my son, you couldnot have been seduced from loyalty to your Redeemers."

  "Father! Hear me, I implore you!" He flung down upon his knees, and heldout shaking, supplicating hands.

  "You shall be heard, my son. The Holy Office does not condemn any manunheard. But what hope can you put in protestations? I had been toldthat your life was disorderly and vain, and I grieved that it should beso, trembled for you when I heard how wide you opened the gates of yoursoul to evil. But remembering that age and reason will often make goodand penitent amends for the follies of early life, I hoped and prayedfor you. Yet that you should Judaize--that you should be bound inwedlock by the unclean ties of Judaism--Oh!" The melancholy voicebroke off upon a sob, and Torquemada covered his pale face with hishands--long, white, emaciated, almost transparent hands. "Pray now,my child, for grace and strength," he exhorted. "Offer up the littletemporal suffering that may yet be yours in atonement for your error,and so that your heart be truly contrite and penitent, you shall deservesalvation from that Divine Mercy which is boundless. You shall have myprayers, my son. I can do no more. Take him hence."

  On the 6th of February of that year 1481, Seville witnessed the firstAuto de Fe, the sufferers being Diego de Susan, his fellow-conspirators,and Don Rodrigo de Cardona. The function presented but little of theghastly pomp that was soon to distinguish these proceedings. But theessentials were already present.

  In a procession headed by a Dominican bearing aloft the green Cross ofthe Inquisition, swathed in a veil of crepe, behind whom walked twoby two the members of the Confraternity of St. Peter the Martyr, thefamiliars of the Holy Office, came the condemned, candle in hand,barefoot, in the ignominious yellow penitential sack. Hemmed about byhalberdiers, they were paraded through the streets to the Cathedral,where Mass was said and a sermon of the faith preached to them bythe stern Ojeda. Thereafter they were conveyed beyond the city to themeadows of Tablada, where the stake and faggots awaited them.

  Thus the perjured accuser perished in the same holocaust with theaccused. Thus was Isabella de Susan, known as la Hermosa Fembra, avengedby falseness upon the worthless lover who made her by falseness theinstrument of her father's ruin.

  For herself, when all was over, she sought the refuge of a convent. Butshe quitted it without professing. The past gave her no peace, and shereturned to the world to seek in excesses an oblivion which the cloisterdenied her and only death could give. In her will she disposed that herskull should be placed over the doorway of the house in the Calle deAtaud, as a measure of posthumous atonement for her sins. And there thefleshless, grinning skull of that once lovely head abode for close uponfour hundred years. It was still to be seen there when Buonaparte'slegions demolished the Holy Office of the Inquisition.