Page 15 of Gómez Arias


  CHAPTER XIV.

  El honor Es un fantasma aparante, Que no esta' en que yo lo tenga, Sino en que el otro lo piense.

  _Calderon._

  Honor's a fine imaginary notion.

  _Addison._

  Honor! thou dazzling and wayward deity, how boundless is thy dominion!How widely different the nature and pretensions of thy worshippers! Alldo thee homage; all gladly and proudly profess themselves thy votaries;all would resent the supposition of being heretical to thy creed, andyet how few truly adhere to the purity of thy precepts! How few aresincere in the expression of their adoration!--nay, how limited thenumber of those who really understand the essence of thy doctrine! Thesanguinary ruffian considers himself as zealous in the service of honor,as the high minded and courageous man who has a sword to avenge thewrongs of his country, and a heart to sympathise with the picture ofhuman misery. All are swayed by the magic word, Honor; for even thosewho affect to despise virtue, her attractions being of too humble andplebeian a character, nevertheless pretend to revere the name of_honor_, as conveying an idea more bright and consonant with worldlypomp, and at the same time affording a greater latitude for variousinterpretations. Alas! this very vagueness has something more flatteringto deluded mortals, than the strict and definite term, the more heroicnature of virtue.

  Honor was the idol of Gomez Arias, who appeared one of the mostscrupulous in the observance of its tenets; he could not brook a word, aglance, a smile which might seem derogatory to the essence of itsestablished maxims. Again, his word was sacred and inviolable. Theleast equivocation in his promise to man might sully him with anindelible stain; but then he would calmly and deliberately, withouttransgressing his honor, employ all his guile to deceive a weak andunprotected female. Honor would compel him to acquit the debt of thegaming table, even when he was almost justified in impeaching theintegrity of the creditor, but as a counterpoise, that same honor,without any dereliction of principle, allowed him to turn a deaf ear tothe claims of more humble suitors; claims, certainly more just andsacred, but far less _honorable_.

  The rigid adherence of Don Lope to his word, was fully exemplified inthe convenient recollection of his engagement to Leonor de Aguilar. Hehad pledged his faith to that lady, and had undoubtedly been a littletoo remiss in its fulfilment, but now that he had nothing more to hopefrom Theodora, he was alive to the sacredness of his promise, and thealmost dishonorable nature of any delay.

  It was by this and the like sophistical reasonings, that he endeavoredto palliate his ingratitude and cruelty towards the hapless victim ofhis lawless desires; for hardened as he was in his libertinism, andunjust as were his sentiments with regard to women, he could not avoidfeeling a pang of conscious remorse at the recollection of Theodora. Hehad systematically won the confidence of an unsuspecting girl, and whenshe had intrusted him with her heart's best affections, how was thetrust requited? He had despoiled her of her innocence and peace of mind;seduced her from her home; snatched her from the arms of an indulgentparent, and now abandoned her, degraded in her own estimation, and aprey to all the bitterest pangs of shame and remorse, and disappointedlove. He had laid rude hands on the tender flower in its opening bloom,and prematurely sipped the sweetness from the blossom, and thenunpitying he had cast it by, neglected and forlorn.

  It required all the brilliant anticipations of Don Lope's future career,to stifle the unpleasant reflections that crowded upon his imagination,and he endeavoured for some time wholly to dispel such unwelcome ideas,by courting others of a more agreeable nature.

  The image of Leonor de Aguilar stood before his sight in all the charmsof ripened beauty, surrounded with the dazzling splendors of rank,fortune, and a glorious name. Gomez Arias perceived the advantages ofhis alliance with Leonor, and the wildest dreams of ambition danced inrapid succession before his mind. He beheld himself the envied possessorof the first lady of the land, the near relative of its most respectedwarrior, and the honorable expectant of the highest preferment. Hispride would be gratified, and his fondest desires realized. He held thecup of happiness to his lips, filled even to the brim; he wasbewildered, intoxicated with the sweet beverage, and in the flow ofpleasurable expectations, the thought of _her_ whom he had made wretchedfor ever, was soon completely lost.

  Alas! the anticipation of the future will always thus overpower therecollection of the past; beauty, honors, glory, and their sparklingattendants, were fearful odds against the love, the solitary love, of afond and innocent girl--a love which had nothing more to promise,nothing more to bestow. But to return:

  No sooner had Gomez Arias quitted the place, than Roque, struck by thedecision and promptitude of his master, stood silent and motionless,gazing on the unfortunate and deserted fair. She was tranquillysleeping; dreaming perhaps of love and joy, and Roque hesitated toshorten the sweet illusion by making known to her the dismal reality. Hefelt an unconquerable repugnance to be the messenger of such fearfulintelligence; for though the valet was accustomed to the unprincipledvagaries of his master, he was not entirely divested of humanity, and hecould not but commiserate the utter wretchedness of Theodora's lot.

  But now the soft rays of evening were deepening into twilight; darkershadows stole imperceptibly over the various-tinted and drowsylandscape, till at last all was enveloped in one calm uninterrupted blueof night.

  The superstitious fears of Roque, as he saw the gloom increasing around,overcame his feelings of compassion, and he began to think of awakeningTheodora, when the hollow sound of a horn burst suddenly upon his ear,and momentarily rivetted him to the spot. He looked towards the quarterfrom whence the blast proceeded, and with surprise and terror he beheld,at a short distance above his head, two men, who, as well as he coulddistinguish, were arrayed in Moorish attire; presently three or fourothers made their appearance, and Roque, now dead to all othersensations than those of personal danger, sprung eagerly upon his horse,and fled with the utmost precipitation in the direction that his masterhad taken.

  The Moors, for such they were, saw his flight with savagedisappointment; but Roque having the advantage of a horse to facilitatehis escape, they considered that a pursuit would be useless. They lefthim, therefore, hoping that his capture would be made by some other ofthe straggling parties that patrolled those solitudes.

  "The base Christian escapes," said one, who appeared to be the leader.

  "Yes, Malique," answered another, "but let us look what he leavesbehind."

  "By the Prophet's sacred beard," cried Malique, "it bears very much theresemblance of a woman. But she moves not.--What, is she dead? Thedetested ruffian surely has not murdered her. Let us hasten down andascertain the truth."

  They rapidly descended from the height, and surrounded the unhappyTheodora, who, quite overcome with fatigue, was still sleeping.

  "She is not dead; she is only asleep," quoth one.

  "And a pleasant apartment has she chosen for her chamber," criedanother.

  "She is a lovely lady, and gentle handmaids will she have to awaken herwithal," observed Malique. "Soft and fair as one of the Houris promisedto the faithful in paradise. By the holy sepulchre of Mecca, such amorsel as this would not be disagreeable even to the fastidious palateof our chief Caneri."

  He approached, and for a moment stood gazing over the sleeping beauty,his eyes glistening with savage pleasure; then pulling her gently by thearm,--

  "Awake, fair maiden, awake!" he said, in as soothing a tone as theroughness of his nature would permit.

  With a fitful start Theodora awoke. She opened her eyes. Oh, horror!horror! Surely she was labouring under the impression of a fearfuldelusion. Yes, it must be the wild chimera of her feverish fancy. Shesaw herself surrounded by a band of appalling figures, each seeming tovie with his fellow who should display in his appearance the greatestterror.

  The pale moon that now slowly arose from behind the clouds, threwaround streams of chilling, unearthly light, whi
ch served to illuminecountenances still more chilling and unearthly. Strange black eyes,wildly rolling under their darksome covering, were all intensely gazingon her; and horrid grins, which were peculiar to those features, servedto increase the natural ferocity of their ruffian aspect. Poorly attiredthey were,--outcast and rebellious spirits, who had the caverns of theforest for their resting place, and the wild mountain for their country.The tranquil recklessness of their wandering life was depicted in alltheir movements; and the cold expression of their bronzed featuresbetokened a hardihood in the commission of crime, and in the unweariedpursuit of vengeance.

  "Fair Christian, be not afraid," said Malique; "we will not harm thee."

  Theodora looked at the speaker and closed her eyes, as if unable toendure the sight. Words coming from so terrible a source could convey noconfidence; and kindness and assurances of safety, offered by such abeing, seemed a refinement of cruelty, to render dishonor and deathmore poignant. A broad face, of swarthy complexion, was renderedfrightful by an enormous mouth, where large white projecting teethseemed to be placed more to disfigure than to adorn it. A large scarextended across the face, dividing the eyebrows, and adding new terrorsto that already repulsive physiognomy.

  When Theodora recovered a little from her first emotion, she became aprey to the most harrowing recollections. Alas! her reason seemed toreturn only to augment the poignancy of her distress.

  "My love! my own Lope!" she franticly cried, "where art thou? Come, comeand protect thy poor Theodora!"

  The hardened Moors raised a laugh at those piteous exclamations, whilstMalique observed--

  "Nay, lady, if that same Lope be thy husband, or lover, call him not;for I presume he is not within ear-shot, and can afford thee noassistance; so be composed, and yield submissively to thy fate, sincethere is no other alternative left thee."

  Theodora heeded him not, for she was absorbed in the ideas that crowdedupon her mind. Terrible was the sight of those mountain ruffians, andhorrid was the anticipation of her destiny, yet only one melancholy,heart-rending misfortune occupied her every feeling. She was alive toone only calamity, but in that, alas! all the horrors with which fatecould overwhelm her were at once combined. She saw _him_ not--the man ofher heart--her last protector, and the single link that bound her toexistence. Gomez Arias was not by her side; had he abandoned her? Shecould not harbour such a thought in her innocent bosom,--nay, not evenin a transitory flash, was the dreadful truth revealed to her. She wasat least blessed in this ignorance, but yet Gomez Arias was not present.She thought that her lover had been murdered, but not that he hadabandoned her.

  Malique now made a sign, and one of his companions untied the horsewhich had been left behind.

  "Come, fair maiden," he then said, addressing Theodora, "thou must mountand follow us."

  "Follow you! Oh! heavens, have pity on me!"

  "We do pity thee, lady, for we intend to carry thee to a place ofsafety, where, if thou knowest how to use to advantage the attractionsof which nature has been so prodigal to thee, thou mayest perchanceexperience a lot far more fortunate than a Christian captive has a rightto expect when in the power of the oppressed and injured Moors."

  "Alas! where do you lead me?" again tremblingly demanded Theodora.

  "Even to our chief Caneri; and we can promise thee that if thy charmsare such as to insure his affections, thou wilt be honored with hischoice, and perhaps rank foremost amongst his wives."

  "Oh! horror," cried the wretched girl, in frantic agony. "Kill me, oh!in pity kill me, before I am overwhelmed with such degradation."

  She threw herself on the ground, and fearfully clasped the knees of theferocious Moor.

  "Kill thee!" re-echoed Malique; "no, no, thou art too beauteous, toolovely. Thy grief at present for the death of the man thou bewailest,makes thee call for a fate which some time hence thou wilt thank me tohave spared thee: with Caneri thou wilt learn to forget the lover thoudeplorest, for thou wilt find that a Moor can love even more sincerelythan a Christian."

  Theodora entreated in vain. Deaf to her piercing cries, Malique mountedher palfrey, and forcibly placed her before him to prevent her falling,as her frame shook convulsively, and he began to fear he would shortlyhave to support a lifeless burthen.

  Night's sable pall had now overspread the drowsy earth. The moon nolonger afforded her light, and thick darkness hung over those mournfulsolitudes. The listless silence was only broken by the tramp of onesolitary horse; while the suppressed gaiety of the Moors, and the deepsighs that oft escaped from a sorrowing heart, but too plainly told thetale of violence and distress.

  A calm cold tranquillity presided over the place. The screech-owl gaveone gloomy shrill and prolonged note, and all was still again. But thatsound went thrilling to Theodora's heart, like the death-knell on themountain blast; while the night wind blew fearfully, and the dismalhowling was rehearsed by the echoes of the wilderness.

  But deserted and lonely as were those dark recesses, more lonely anddeserted still was the heart of Theodora. She was a wretched outcast, asolitary being in the world, and she lived on memory alone. Alas! it isin the hour of distress and perilous adventure, that the voice of memoryholds more busy converse with the mind. She then tells a long and variedtale, in which the fortunate portion of our past existence is powerfullyheightened, whilst the gloomy part is rendered lighter by the weight ofactual endurance. In this hour of terror, the remembrance of the happyhome which she should never see again, and the tranquil pastimes ofinnocence which she could never more enjoy, passed in rapid successionbefore her mind. The first dawning of genuine love--the fervour ofadoration, all were fled. The image of Don Lope, rendered still moreendearing by his untimely loss, filled up the measure of Theodora's woe,till her heart could no longer support the pressure of so much distress.She sobbed aloud; and the tears which fell from her eyes in some measurerelieved her bursting heart. She looked around, and saw nothing but theundisturbed continuance of wild solitudes, clothed in dark shadows; andshe heard nought but mournful sounds to add to the wretchedness of heralready deplorable lot. The ill-omened bird again shrieked, and the windhowled fitfully; whilst the moon, issuing from behind a cloud, now threwa cold comfortless light, which imparted a death-like hue to everyobject around.

  While thus overwhelmed with sensations of terror at her forlornsituation, she perceived some object of dark appearance hanging upon atree almost across their path, and waving to and fro at the will of theblast. A glimpse of moonlight now falling upon the place, discovered ahuman figure: it was indeed the body of a murdered man. Theodorashuddered at the sight: an icy chill crept over her, and she dreaded,and yet was eager to learn what she, alas! too well anticipated.

  "The sight appears to unnerve you, lady," coolly observed her conductor,"and I wonder not, for it is a sorry sight for a tender female, and aChristian withal. Yonder scarecrow was, a short time since, a Christianknight, and is there placed as a warning to his fellow-countrymen howthey dare provoke the angry lion in his dominions. In each Moor will theChristian encounter a lion;--nay, something even more terrible than theking of beasts; for, joined with the mighty strength and fierceresolution of this animal, we have the reason and wounded feelings ofmen."

  "By the prophet," said one of the Moors, "that Christian well deservedhis fate; a more desperate man never did I see!"

  "Aye," continued another, "he fought bravely, and we bought his life atthe dear price of two comrades."

  "I came not till he was dispatched," exclaimed Malique in a haughtytone, "otherwise the combat would not have been long dubious; but youare a cowardly set, and had the Christian been seconded, I suspect thatthe five who attacked him would have been disgracefully driven back: buthe fought alone, his dastardly servant having fled. Pity we could notcatch the rascal, for he would have made a proper accompaniment to hismaster on the next tree."

  Theodora listened in frozen suspense, whilst another of the Moorsobserved, in an under-tone,--

  "'Twas unfortunate though, that l
ove should have brought about hisdeath: in his last moment he said something concerning love; and whoknows but this young maiden"--

  Theodora heard no more,--she uttered a faint smothered scream, and felllifeless into the arms of Malique.

  "Give help! give help! she faints! poor damsel--Get some water from thebrook."

  They halted a moment, and sprinkling the reviving liquid over Theodora'sface, succeeded in recalling her back to life. Malique then endeavouredto administer words of comfort to the distressed girl, but he wasutterly unsuccessful; a settled gloom pervaded her soul, and shediscarded the very idea of consolation. Thus they continued to travelduring the night, till the first gleams of the dawning day brought totheir view the outline of a village enveloped in the morning mist.--Asthey gently advanced, the scene enlarged, and the shade graduallyrolling off, a little quiet town became at length perceptible, shiningin the first rays of the sun, and fresh with silvery drops of the dew.The sombre aspect of the Alpujarras began to lose its sterner frown inthe loveliness and animation of the morning hour. But alas! it broughtno comfort to the desponding heart of Theodora. Deep and poignant as hersorrows were, she felt conscious that a yet more dreadful fate awaitedher; she was about to be offered a victim to the lawless desires of aruffian, and an infidel. Death alone could release her from sodegrading a destiny; but even death, that last melancholy consolation,was denied to her. She prayed fervently to heaven, and hersupplications, pronounced in the sincerity of her heart, served only toconsole her. No help came: eagerly she cast her eyes around, and clungwith fond endearment to the wildest hopes that ever fancy created.--Shehailed with a fluttering expectation the least sound, for in it she waswilling to fancy a deliverer. The distant tramp of a horse, or the barkof a dog, failed not to raise hopes which tended only to render herdistress more poignant by disappointment.

  Her mind, worn out in this conflict, began to lose its powers ofconsciousness, and as they approached the town, she gradually fell intoa state of passive despair. She saw without emotion a group of menstanding at the entrance, who, in conjunction with some ragged children,as soon as she was perceived, raised an exulting shout.

  A Christian captive! a Christian captive!--And presently three or fourarmed Moors came forward, to whom Malique related his adventure. Theythen proceeded altogether through the principal street of the town ofAlhacen, which was at that time the headquarters of the Moors, who fellwithin the jurisdiction of the rebel chief Caneri. The town presented amost dismal and disconsolate aspect; the inhabitants bearing in theirappearance a proof of their miserable wandering life, and seeming allprepared to abandon their precarious tenements at the first summons.Indeed the late losses which they had sustained, and more especially thesurrender of Lanjaron, contributed, to keep them in a state of continualalarm. This feeling was considerably augmented by the intelligence theyhad just now received, that Alonso de Aguilar, the most renowned and themost redoubtable of their enemies, was rapidly advancing against El Feride Benastepar. However, as they had nothing to lose,--no riches toabandon--no pleasures to relinquish--no comforts to forget, theexpression of their countenances exhibited a cold resignation, blendedwith gloomy ferocity.

  The party that conducted Theodora having traversed the town, stopt atits extremity, before a house which appeared somewhat in better orderthan the rest, in front of which several armed Moors were pacing to andfro.

  Malique demanded an immediate interview with Caneri, which was deniedhim on the plea that the chief was at the moment deeply engaged in aconference with the most important amongst the Moors. Soon after,however, a short broad-faced ugly fellow made his appearance, and withdemonstrations of joy welcomed Malique, who was his kinsman.

  "By our holy prophet, Malique, I am glad to see thee return with such agoodly sport:--Caneri is not to be interrupted now, but thou mayest besure of a good reward."

  Aboukar, for such was the Moor's name, then ushered in his kinsman.Every one seemed to pay great respect and deference to the little man;it was with reason, for he acted in no less a capacity than master ofthe household to the mountain sovereign of the place. Meantime Theodorawas intrusted to the care of an old hag, wife to Aboukar, and a renegadeChristian. She conducted her ward to a little narrow apartment, wherehaving placed some refreshments, she recommended Theodora to partake ofthem, and retired.

  END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.

  GOMEZ ARIAS;

  OR,

  THE MOORS OF THE ALPUJARRAS.

  A SPANISH HISTORICAL ROMANCE.

  BY

  DON TELESFORO DE TRUEBA Y COSIO.

  IN THREE VOLUMES.

  VOL. II.

  LONDON:HURST, CHANCE, AND CO.65, ST. PAUL'S CHURCH YARD.

  1828.

 
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