Gómez Arias

  CHAPTER VI.

  Cosi gl'interi giorni in lungo incerto Sonno gemo! ma poi quando la bruna Notte gli astri nel ciel chiama e la luna E il freddo aer di mute ombre e coverto; Dove selvoso e il piano e piu deserto Allor lento io vagando, ad una ad una Palpo le piaghe onde la rea fortuna E amore e il mondo hanno il mio core aperto.

  _Ugo Foscolo._

  It was night, gentle and serene, such a night as in the favored clime ofAndalusia is wont to succeed the sultriness of a summer's day. Thebright canopy of heaven shone in passionless serenity, emblazoned withits countless stars. The moon flung a solemn light on the tall palacesand stately turrets of Granada, and tinged the citron groves of DonAlonso's garden with a flood of chaste and silvery splendor. The placidbeams reposed calmly and unbroken on the bosom of the still lake, ordanced fitfully on the bubbling eddies of the limpid water, as it fellon the marble basin with a refreshing sound.

  How beautiful this calm! In such a spot as this could the wearied mindtaste of the sweet repose of an earthless spirit. But hark! thebreathless silence is violated by a low harsh sound. It is the gratingvoice of yonder ponderous Moorish casement. It opens, and a female formis there wrapped in contemplation; her eye is fixed, her figuremotionless. She now raises the trembling fingers to her white forehead,and reclines on her arm, as she watches, with the unconscious gaze of anabsent mind, the sportive waters as they played below. She seemed todelight in the soft stillness, and to gather fresh life amidst themysterious shades that reigned around. Spirit-like, she sat in thefrowning window, enrobed in shadow, and the cold whiteness thatpencilled out her form, seemed to array it with the character of aliving statue.

  It was Theodora--the hapless Theodora, who, a prey to the rootedmelancholy that consumed her, had left her couch to enjoy undisturbedthe luxury of grief. The garden soon brought to her fancy recollectionsof past scenes, and the source of all her present misfortunes. It was ina garden, and on such nights as these that her meetings with Gomez Ariashad taken place, as well as the last interview which had decided herfate, and given birth to all the miseries which followed. Tranquil andserene was all around; Theodora felt a wild and romantic sensation ofdelight, while gazing on objects fraught with associations of past blissand present misery. The hallowed placidity of the blue vaulted heavens;the soft whispering of the foliage that slumbered in the cold moonlight;the spectre-like appearance of the tall trees, which stood partlyenrobed in shadowy darkness, and partly glowing in serene and chastenedsplendor; the gentle murmuring of the sportive breeze--all tended tolead her senses into a delusive, but pleasing reverie. She listened, andthought she heard _his_ voice. She looked tremblingly as if in theexpectation of the appearance of her lover. The thicket of myrtlerustles and shakes, and flings on the air its load of fragrance, whenfrom its green bosom softly steals forward a tall and majestic figure.

  Could it be possible? Or had her bewildered imagination conjured up theairy phantom to deceive her? It was _he_--Gomez Arias--and as she gazedintensely, the shadow moved slowly along, lengthening in the moonlightas it proceeded. No delusion was here; it was indeed her lover shebeheld, moving with the same graceful manner as when she saw him last inthe garden of her father. The phantom approached, not in the unearthlysickly semblance of a tenant of the tomb, but radiant with the joy of asuccessful lover; his eye beaming with the glow of life. It moved! itpassed! 'tis gone--and Theodora, in the complication of her feelings,remained with her eyes fixed, looking intently on the space where shehad distinguished the form of her lover.

  During some time she remained plunged in a delightful trance, till thesolemn knell of a neighbouring convent, summoning the cloistered monksto their orisons, suddenly dissolved the potent charm, and banished thebright illusion for the reality of sorrow. The dear image of her loverhad departed, and a veil of gloom seemed to fall over the surroundingscene. An unearthly dullness pervaded the air; the night wind sighedmournfully through the rustling boughs of the trees; the moon threw acolourless light from behind a shroud of clouds, and the semblance ofdeath seemed to reign around.

  Theodora could no longer sustain the dreary scene, and she hurried backto her couch, to linger through the night in the unavailing attempt tocourt repose. Alas! refreshing sleep came not to close her wearyeyelids. At intervals, indeed, a heavy slumber stole over her, but sooppressive was its influence, that she struggled hard to regain hersenses. The night wore away, and the morning dawned, but it brought noalleviation to her sorrow. At an early hour she rose from her couch,and, as if led by an instinctive impulse, she drew near the window thatcommanded a view of the garden. There, musing on the vision of her pastnight, she was surprised by the entrance of Lisarda, one of herattendants. She came bustling in with an air of importance, andapparently with a firm resolution that no opportunity should escape inthe proffer of her good services, and in the exercise of her loquacioustalents.

  "Good day, sweet lady! Save you, my dear lady! How have you passed thenight?--Very composedly I trow, for this is a most quiet and sequesteredapartment: but, our Lady defend us! how pale you look;--surely, you arenot ill?--_La virgen nos valga_.[32] Samuel Mendez shall be commandedhere forthwith; for this same Samuel, you must know, is a very sapientleech, and well versed in occult medical science, though a very dog of acursed unbelieving Jew;[33] he shall be sent for anon; there is no causeto fear him, for the infidel dare not use any of his poisonous drugs tosuch as you, my sweet lady. The _Samaritano_[34] would answer with hislife any mischance to yours; and that is methinks a right way ofeffecting cures. So permit me to send for Samuel Mendez."

  "Thank you most kindly," answered Theodora, "but my disease is not to beremoved by the powers of medicine. Alas! it is seated in the mind," sheadded, smiling sadly, "and there all the science of Samuel Mendez wouldbe unavailing."

  "Cheer up, my sweet lady," returned Lisarda, "for this is a time ofrejoicing at Granada, and it would be a pity to have one sorrowful heartamidst the revelries of this mansion. Good heavens! we are all mad forjoy in the very anticipation of so much feasting and merry-making."

  "I congratulate you sincerely," said Theodora, "though I cannot be apartaker of the general joy."

  "Oh, but you must," exclaimed Lisarda, "you must be glad, aye, andrejoice too;--and how can you in troth do otherwise, seeing that ourmaster, Don Alonso de Aguilar, is hourly expected in the city?"

  "It will indeed," returned Theodora, "throw a beam of comfort into mypoor heart to behold my brave and generous deliverer, and to pour forththe tribute of my humble gratitude, which he so justly deserves."

  "His arrival," continued Lisarda, with marvellous volubility of tongue,"is the signal of numberless pleasures; for now, thank God and themighty _Santiago_, the Moors have had such a dressing that they will bein no humour for some time to renew their unruly frolics, and that happyevent which we have so long a time been anxiously awaiting will at lastbe accomplished."

  "Yes," said Theodora, mechanically, "peace will be restored."

  "Aye, peace will be restored," quoth she of the expeditious tongue;"peace will be restored; and in sooth how should it not? But then thatis not the only happiness in store for the friends and retainers of DonAlonso."

  As she said this, Lisarda looked steadfastly on Theodora, as ifexpecting to be questioned about the said happiness, but as sheperceived no symptoms of such an intention, she found the necessity ofaffording both questions and answers, lest the dialogue should draw to aconclusion, a catastrophe much dreaded by the good Lisarda.

  "Now, by _San Jose Bendito_!" she continued in the tone of one that ismost good-naturedly inclined to give unsought-for information; "mygentle lady, I would venture to assert that you cannot guess the motiveof such happy anticipations."

  "I cannot indeed," answered Theodora, with indifference.

  "Well, I will keep you no longer in suspense, since you evince soanxious a desire to be acquainted with all the particulars."

  Theodora betrayed some little impatien
ce at the unconscionable chatterof her attendant; but the giddy maid, heedless of every thing,continued in a tone of great delight--

  "So, the Lord save us! but the happiness in question is nothing lessthan a wedding."

  "A wedding!" cried Theodora, with some emotion.

  "Aye, a wedding," repeated Lisarda, emphatically, accompanying thestress she laid on the word with a most appropriate movement of her headand hands, as the right one struck the palm of its left companion, intoken of asseveration: "A wedding," she continued; "and such a weddingtoo, that the like has not been seen at Granada for many, many a year.Let them boast of their Moorish gallantry and their infidel marriages--afig for them! No, no; a Christian for me--a Christian, who will besatisfied with one woman, and in truth why should he not?"

  "And who is the fortunate bride?" demanded Theodora, not from any motiveof curiosity, but merely to acquiesce in the loquacious humor of herattendant.

  "The bride!" exclaimed Lisarda, "the bride! why, who should be thebride?--Have I not already told you?"

  "No, indeed, you have not."

  "Really," resumed Lisarda, conceitedly, "for a thoughtless silly girl, Iam the most unaccountable female in Spain."

  Theodora did not attempt to contradict her, as she was certainly a mostunaccountable girl for a woman of forty.

  "Well," proceeded Lisarda, "before it again slips from my memory, I mustacquaint you that the bride is no other than our beloved and most noblemistress, the lady Dona Leonor."

  "She well deserves a gentle bridegroom," observed Theodora, withaffability.

  "She does in troth," replied Lisarda; "and how should she not, being asshe is? We have had no lack of suitors--aye, and the noblest. GoodHeavens! what ado there has been about it--gallants we have had,clustering about us like bees when they flock around their queen. Thebridegroom is indeed a most deserving and accomplished cavalier; and sohe should, to be the favored choice of Dona Leonor. However, he is notthe one I patronized, and who I hoped at one time would marry mylady--he, alas! was prevented from proceeding in so desirable anengagement, not from any fault of his or mine either, but from anunexpected event that presented the most insurmountable impediment tothe marriage."

  "And that was--?" inquired Theodora.

  "Death!" replied Lisarda: "it being rumoured and readily believed, thatthe unfortunate caballero was murdered by those blood-thirsty Moors ofthe Alpujarras; and indeed his long disappearance from Granada makes theunwelcome intelligence to rest on no shallow foundation."

  Theodora felt an involuntary chill at this part of her attendant'snarration; for the similarity of fate between Leonor's lover and her owncould not but be productive of a most harrowing sensation. Lisarda,however, continued, unconscious of the pang she had inflicted.

  "And it was a marvellous pity," said she, "for a more gallant andgenerous cavalier was not easily to be met with in all Spain. So gentle,so brave, so rich, and so generous withal;--now, never did he appearbefore me, but he needs must force some present or other upon me; and,indeed, spite of my shyness, I found the greatest difficulty inresisting the acceptance of gifts which were offered in so delicate amanner: peace be to his soul! it was always a ring, a gem, a pair ofpendants, or----"

  "And what is the name of the present bridegroom?" interrupted Theodora.

  "Certainly he is a sweet gallant too, and in great estimation atcourt----"

  "And his name is--?" inquired Theodora.

  "Though, to say the truth, there are many others equally meritorious. Itis not the Maestre de Calatrava; oh, no; his attractions are rather toomature to suit the taste of Dona Leonor."

  "Who is he?" again demanded Theodora "A most handsome man, certainly;now--but do not suppose it is Don Felix de Almagro, or young Garcilaso,or Don Juan de---- No,----".

  "Well, but, good Lisarda, what is his name?"

  "Oh, he bears a most glorious name; but now I think on't, what athoughtless, silly girl I am; surely I was to bring you a beautifuldress, that my lady ordered for you: sweet lady, you must forgive me; Iwill run forthwith and rectify my fault."

  Then, without waiting for a reply, she flew out of the room. Theodorafelt a strange sensation at the intelligence she had just received. Awedding was shortly to be solemnized, at which her presence wouldnaturally be required, and the idea of witnessing a ceremony which wouldbring to her mind a train of painful associations, failed not toincrease her agitation. Then she was lost in conjectures respecting thebridegroom, and she felt impressed with a belief that he could be noother than Don Antonio de Leyva. She felt a dread at the prospect ofappearing before him, whom her venerable parent had chosen for herpartner in life.

  Theodora strove to drive away such unpleasant images, and to divert herattention she hurried to the garden. There she walked to the same spotwhere the resemblance of her lover had appeared the preceding night;feeling a strange indefinable delight in visiting a spot endeared by theawful visitation of her beloved and never to be forgotten Gomez Arias.In the garden, therefore, she remained some time, now walking amidstfragrant avenues of orange and citron, now resting on the marble edge ofthe fountain, refreshing her hands and face in the transparent liquid,or gazing on the clear and sparkling pebbles embedded on the goldensand. Her sighs seemed attuned to the soft but melancholy sound of themurmuring fountain, and she was insensibly falling into her wonted trainof reverie, when she was startled by the noise of advancing footsteps;she raised her eyes and perceived a man coming directly across the pathon which she was standing; to her utter amazement, she beheld in thedisturber of her meditations the person, the very person of Roque. Thevalet himself was rivetted to the spot at this mutual recognition, andhis features exhibited a curious amalgamation of sensations difficult tobe defined. He crossed himself thrice, uttered a faint ejaculation, and,with wandering eyes and open mouth, he looked and looked again, as ifdoubting the reality of what he saw. Being at length perfectly satisfiedthat it was Theodora herself, the unhappy and forsaken victim of hismaster, he made a hasty movement to leave the place.

  "Stay, Roque, stay!" eagerly cried Theodora; "thou surely dost not meanto leave me thus:--What alarms thee? Is it my dejected and forlornappearance? Alas! it may well awaken thy surprise; for deep and bitteranguish has left its sad traces on my features."

  Roque then approached, but not without casting a look around, as iffearful of being observed.

  "What ails thee, Roque?" demanded Theodora surprised; "thoutremblest,--wherefore? What mystery is here?"

  "_El cielo, San Pedro y San Pablo me valgan!_" ejaculated Roque, againcrossing himself.

  "Oh!" cried Theodora, clasping her hand in eager supplication--"do notharrow up my feelings with this suspense:--Speak!--"

  "Good heavens! my lady, how came you here?"

  "Alas!" answered Theodora, "the tale of my sufferings is as tedious inlength as it has been deep in sorrow; rather inform me of matters farmore interesting to my heart: tell me," she then proceeded, withvehement earnestness, "tell me the circumstances of that horrid eventwhich has doomed me for ever to despair."

  "That horrid event!" re-echoed Roque, with a look of marvellousstupidity.

  "Ah! Roque, it was a fearful deed, and not in vain did my heart warn mewith ominous forebodings."

  "Yes, gentle lady," said Roque, in a tone of compunction, "it was afearful deed, I confess."

  "And thou, Roque," continued Theodora, "thou hast to answer for a greatshare of the misery which ensued."

  "Alas, my dear lady! I know that my courage failed me in that dreadfulmoment, but perhaps I am not wholly undeserving of pardon, for whatother course could I then pursue?"

  "To fight," resolutely said Theodora.

  "Fight," returned the valet, "fight! good God! you would not have had mefight a host of ruffian Moors, would you, lady? A thousand they mighthave been, for aught I know. Indeed, at the time, I lost my talent forcalculation, but they looked as many, and as for poor Roque, whom Heavenhas been pleased to endow with a most pacific temperament, thinking offighti
ng a thousand Moors, he might as well be expected to engageagainst Satan, backed by a whole legion of his infernal subjects."

  "But was it well," rejoined Theodora, "to abandon thy master in thehour of danger?"

  "Abandon my master!" exclaimed Roque, "_valgame el cielo!_ Under favor,Senora, it was my master that abandoned me."

  "Out upon thee, fellow! I thought thee possessed of more manly feelingsthan to make light with so sad a subject, and introduce an unseemlyjest."

  "By all the saints in the calendar, lady--but I am in no mood formerriment. I am not in very truth, and may the first jest I attempt toutter strangulate me outright, before it escapes from my lips. Butreally, with respect to abandoning my master, thank the blessed virgin,that is a crime of which no one can accuse me. A man cannot help feelingshy at engaging in broils and combats, if his star doth not propel himthereto,--and that in verity is pretty nearly my case; but if any one istempted to question my fidelity, this miserable carcass of mine can bearwitness to the contrary, by displaying the honorable bruises I havereaped in the service of my master.--Alack! had I been less constant infollowing my Senor Gomez Arias, certain cudgellings and beatings withoutnumber would not so continually have fallen to the lot of Roque."

  "Darest thou speak in this strain," interposed Theodora, "when thoubetookest thyself to a shameful flight, at the very first appearance ofthe Moors, leaving thy gallant and unfortunate master to be murdered attheir hands?"

  At this unexpected accusation, Roque appeared astounded, and for sometime could collect no adequate term to express his surprise. He cast alook of mixed amazement and compassion, shrugged up his shoulders, and,in a scarcely audible tone, muttered to himself:--"Poor thing! may theLord preserve her--sorrow hath brought this about."

  Theodora, heedless of his manner, continued;--"Alas! what was thecourage of a single man against the united force of so many enemies?"

  "Aye--aye--nothing," responded Roque, "nothing certainly;--but underfavor, my good lady, though my master's courage stood ever the fairesttest, yet I do not clearly perceive how he is entitled to encomiums forfeats which, though he might, he _did_ not actually achieve."

  "What!" exclaimed Theodora, with warmth, "would you even defraud hismemory of its too-well merited guerdon, the possession of a gloriousname?"

  "Good my lady," humbly replied Roque, "I would not defraud my master ofa single _maravedi_, much less of so valuable a treasure as a gloriousname. But I am strangely puzzled to determine how I can deprive him of acommodity which in my hands would lose its worth. Nor indeed can Iperceive why you bestow such commendations on the deeds of my master,since, in the instance to which you allude, I rather suspect he was innowise anxious to distinguish himself."

  "Thy speech," said Theodora, "is enigmatical, and wherefore it is so Icannot surmise. But his very enemies confessed that he fought bravely,and fell like a hero. Aye, Roque, they further added, that had you notabandoned him in that critical moment, their victory would not have beenso easily effected."

  "_Santa Barbara!_" cried Roque, more astounded than ever, "the Moorssaid that? Well it was very kind of the _malandrines_ to speak in suchgood terms of my honored master.--Good God! good God!" he thencontinued, in a confused incoherent manner--"My lady, pray forgive myimpertinence, but will you tell me if I am awake?"

  "Awake!" repeated Theodora.

  "Yes, my dear lady, for either I must be now asleep, or you must havebeen dreaming when the facetious Moors favored you with such anextraordinary story."

  "Oh, Roque! cease this ribaldry, so unbecoming in thee when we speak of_him_ whom thou knowest I so much loved--when we speak of his untimelydeath."

  "The death of Gomez Arias, say you!" exclaimed Roque, retreating withincreased amazement. "My master dead?--in the name of Heaven! what sayyou lady!"--

  "The truth;--with these unhappy eyes did I see his murdered body in theAlpujarras:--art thou then, Roque, so ignorant of his fate?"

  "Oh, quite so," replied Roque; "this is the very first intelligence Ireceived of such an event;--and I suppose you will tell me next that youhave seen his ghost."

  "Alas!" returned Theodora, "it was but last night that I beheld hisfigure as perfectly as when I saw him last in the Alpujarras!"

  Roque assumed as much gravity as he was able, considering the difficultyhe had to restrain his risibility; and, supposing that the intellect ofthe poor lady was impaired, in a comic serious tone observed:--"Well, mymaster is a most wonderful man, that his murdered body should be foodfor the ravens of the Alpujarras, and his troubled spirit be hauntingDon Alonso's garden; when at the same time I saw him myself not longsince, in perfect sanity of body and soul, parading the promenades ofGranada."

  Theodora gasped for breath; she gazed on Roque with astonishment. Thevalet was in the greatest perplexity; but thinking that Theodora stilldoubted the veracity of his statement, he again, in a serious tone andasseverating manner, said--"Yes, my lady, you are deceived--my master isalive."

  "Alive!" screamed aloud Theodora, and her whole frame shook like theaspen leaf; "alive! where? where is he?"

  "In this city, and will come to the palace presently. More I cannot tellyou, lady;--permit me now to withdraw, and oh! that you might do thesame!"

  Roque, as we have already observed, was far from being of a cruel andhardened disposition, and his acquiescence in the unprincipled actionsof his master arose more from dread of his character than perversity ofheart. He was now strangely perplexed, anticipating the disastrousresults which might spring from the unlooked-for meeting of Gomez Ariasand the forsaken victim of his satiated passion. He almost regrettedhaving removed the error under which Theodora laboured with regard toher lover's death.

  Meantime Theodora, partly recovered from the violent shock which herfeelings had sustained, felt a chill of doubt and a vague apprehensionof evil that deadened the first impression of transporting pleasurewhich the certainty of her Lope's existence had produced. Sheendeavoured to give a solution to the enigma, but met with nonecongenial to her feelings. The circumstance of her lover being inGranada, and apparently unconcerned for her fate, withered the buddinghopes within her bosom, for she fondly imagined that Gomez Arias couldnever be separated from her but by death. This suspense was terrible,and Roque's demeanor tended to increase her anxiety. She fixed herstarting eyes on him, and holding his hand with a fearful grasp, in avoice wild with emotion, she exclaimed:--"Roque! Roque! in the name ofHeaven, unravel this mystery."

  She hesitated a moment, but the very poignancy of her anguish gave herforce to demand--"Did Gomez Arias, then, leave me in the power of theMoors without attempting my defence?"

  Roque made no answer.

  Theodora became intensely excited, and with the piercing voice ofdespair:--"Then it is true!" she exclaimed, "your silence confirms myfears!"

  A ghastly smile was on her lip, and a deadly paleness overspread herfeatures.

  Roque now perceived the utter impossibility of keeping his master'scruelty any longer a secret from his victim: yet he dreaded to acquainther with the whole extent of her misery; he trembled for theconsequences that such an avowal would produce upon her feelings, and heknew that with a fond woman of extraordinary sensibility and elevatedsentiments, the death of a lover might be more easily supported than hisdereliction. On the other hand it was imperatively demanded bycircumstances that Gomez Arias and Theodora should never meet again;for, alas! such a meeting could be productive only of reproach and shameto the former--anguish, despair, and perhaps death to the latter.

  Theodora, meantime, read in the agitated countenance of the valet a taleof distress more cruel than any she had yet endured; whilst Roque, whotrembled lest, by an imprudent continuance of his interview withTheodora, they might be surprised by Gomez Arias, summoned up hisresolution, and determined at once to acquaint her with her lover'streason:--"Lady!" he exclaimed with emphasis, "in the name of God,endeavour to brace your nerves against the dreadful intelligence I haveto communicate.--You must forget him for ever;--nay,
if you consult thehappiness of all those that are interested in your welfare or in his,you will decide never to see him more."

  "What mean you?" demanded Theodora, with redoubled agitation.

  "Your lover is false, lady; you must fly to your parent, or encounterthe peril of being immured in the gloomy seclusion of a convent. Suchwere my master's intentions towards you, when the arrival of the Moorshappened in time to frustrate them. Should he, however, learn that youare at Granada, where your presence may throw invincible impediments inhis way, the knowledge would be perhaps attended with disastrousresults. I am a poor man, a butt to sustain my master's ill humors, butI will not so far dishonor my feelings as to permit the possibility ofyour being exposed a second time to the dreaded manoeuvres of GomezArias. Fly, lady, fly to your kind parent."

  Theodora fixed a wild look on Roque, and the horrid nature of hisrecital seemed to have frozen the springs of feeling. She did not speak,nor was any passion, save that of despair, depicted on her countenance;a settled stupor sat upon her pallid brow, and shone in the cold glanceof her eyes.

  Roque was moved by the picture of loveliness that stood before him,motionless in the intensity of grief; but he was conscious of thedanger he incurred by protracting his stay.

  "Alas!" he said in a soothing tone, "you are very, very unfortunate; butconsider, lady, the consequences of our being seen together. Allow me toretire, then, and command my services; but, oh, do not by any meansappear before----"

  He was interrupted by Theodora, who suddenly started before thatdreadful name once so endearing could be pronounced.

  "Roque," she cried, in a tone and manner that bespoke her possessed ofmore resolution than could be gathered from the expression of hercountenance, "Roque, I will retire; be silent, and let me see youagain.--Yes," she added with a voice of presageful import, "it is betterI should not see him more!"

  She then hastily retired from the spot, and sought the way to herapartment. That feeling so deeply rooted in the female heart--the desireof probing a lover's perfidy to the utmost, determined her to followthe valet's advice. No, she dreaded not the most disastrousconsequences; for, alas! what has betrayed woman to fear, when she seeksjustice from the man for whom she has sacrificed all! Is it death? Ah!it is her best refuge and only consolation!