Chapter 14

D'une secrète horreur je me sens frissoner; Je crains, malgré moi-même, un malheur que j'ignore.

_Racine._

Señor Gomez Arias Duelete de mi Que soy niña y sola Nunca en tal me vi.

_Calderon._

It was a rich and splendid summer evening. The sun was slowly sinking behind the giant mountains of the Alpujarras, whose dark fantastic shadows were gradually lengthening along the plains below. No intruding sound broke upon the soft stillness of the scene, save when the feathered tenants of the forest warbled their evening song, or the tolling of a distant convent bell reverberated through the sombre recesses of the mountains. A soft languor prevailed over the sylvan scenery. The fancifully wreathing clouds, streaked with the red and gold of the lingering sun--the variegated tints of those quiet solitudes--the warm, chequered streams of light that glanced on the broad-leafed tree, or fitfully quivered over the straggling streamlet--the calm repose which reigned over that wide extending landscape, all tended to raise the mind to contemplation, and to interest the heart.

At this tranquil hour, a group, consisting of three persons, were seen slowly ascending a green sloping height, which seemed designed by nature as a first resting place in the severe ascent of the gigantic mountain. The first of the party was a knight of most gallant bearing, and mounted on a shining black steed. Close by his side rode a beautiful damsel, whose long redundant tresses were with difficulty restrained in a fillet of silver lace. She wore a long riding habit; a Spanish hat, ornamented with a plume of black feathers, was hanging gracefully on one side of her head. Having thrown aside the thick veil which had protected her from the scorching influence of the sun, she discovered a fair countenance, to whose delicate cheek the heat and exercise had lent a gentle tinge of the rose. Yet an expression of pensive sadness pervaded the features of the lovely traveller.

At a short distance behind these two personages, rode a man who appeared by his dress and deportment to be their attendant. He sat with perfect nonchalance on a stout Andalusian horse, but by the looks of suspicious alertness, which he now and then cast around, it might be inferred that this apparent ease was not in strict unison with his inward feelings. At the moment of which we speak, he was singing in a _mezzo tuono_ the romance of the Marriage of the Cid--

A Ximena y a Rodrigo Prendió el rey palabraymano De juntarlos para en uno En presencia de Layn Calvo.

"Cease thy confounded noise, Roque," cried angrily the knight, who, as the reader may suppose, was no other than Gomez Arias. "What in the name of Satan can induce thee to sing, when thou hast neither voice nor ear? Give over, for thy confounded harmony is anything but pleasing."

"Señor," observed the attendant; "what if I only sing to please myself?"

"Silence, buffoon; or I shall presently raise a discord about thee, by which all thy future powers of hearing shall be ruefully endangered."

"Pray, Señor, do not deny me this only comfort; I wish particularly to sing at this moment."

"Thy reasons?"

"Because I always sing when I am afraid; there is nothing so efficacious as a song to drive away fear."

"In sooth, such singing as thine would drive away the very devil. But why shouldst thou fear?"

"Under favor, Don Lope," replied the valet, "methinks fear ought to be the most natural sensation at the present moment."

"Darest thou talk of fear, poltroon!" said Gomez Arias.

"By our Lady of the Pillar," ejaculated Roque, "such talk befits both time and place. Are we not in hourly danger of encountering a set of most fierce murderous-looking _ladrones_?"[25]

"Well, and if that were really the case, we have but to defend ourselves manfully. By the soul of the Cid, I would make very light work of a host of such ruffians."

"Well, my honored master," returned the valet, "but be pleased to consider that this is not our only danger, for I trow we are now in the mountains of Alpujarras, where those accursed and rebellious Moors hold dominion. A plague on the infidel dogs! Are they not continually on the watch to spring upon straggling and unwary Christians, and when they do surprise them--"

"Peace, fool, peace!" impatiently interrupted Gomez Arias, "This is not the Alpujarras. Forgettest thou that when we left Guadix two days since, we pursued quite a different route?"

"That I know, Don Lope, but I likewise know that during the night, either by chance or on purpose, we lost our way. Besides I am not so ignorant of the country as to mistake these places, and I would wager my head against two _maravedis_[26] that we are actually ascending the Alpujarras."

The young lady, who had till now observed a profound silence, with a faultering voice exclaimed--"Oh, heavens! are we really in those terrible mountains, and are we indeed in danger?"

"No, my love," answered Gomez Arias; "the danger is not so great as this fool would make us believe."

"No, my lady," retorted Roque; "the danger is not so great, for after all, the worst that can befall us is but to be hung upon a tree, there to dance to the tune of the whistling midnight wind, and to afford a luscious repast to the ravens, and other carnivorous gentry that hold tenantry in these wild passes."

"Heavens!" cried Theodora alarmed.

"Nay, gentle lady," interposed Roque, "the hanging system will only be followed up with respect to my valiant master and his humble servant. As for yourself, the Moors are men celebrated for their gallantry, and would place too great a value on your beauty, to subject it to such rough treatment."

Gomez Arias, greatly exasperated at Roque's insinuations, suddenly turned, and, riding up to him, interrupted the course of his oratory with a smart blow.--"Now, rascal," he said, "if thou darest again to give utterance to any of those ridiculous fears, by _Santiago_, the Moors shall not be put to the trouble of hanging thee--So be cautious what thou sayest."

"Say!" humbly muttered the valet, "Blessed Virgin! I have nothing else to say; your arguments, Don Lope, are unanswerable. But I hope, my good Señor, I may be allowed to recite my prayers, since singing and rational conversation are interdicted."

"Pray as much as thou pleasest, sinner, provided thy orisons are inaudible to us."

Gomez Arias now endeavoured to calm the fears of Theodora, who had been greatly agitated by the imprudent remarks of Roque, which tended considerably to increase the depression under which she laboured.

"My Theodora," he said, "is it possible that I cannot remove the continued dejection that preys upon you?"

"Forgive me, Lope," she answered; "the expression of my grief I know is painful to thee, but a dismal foreboding obtrudes itself upon my mind, which I strive in vain to banish. Alas! it is fraught with a most fearful, but indefinite anticipation; a woeful presage that freezes my very soul."

"Hush such foolish chimeras," said Gomez Arias; "it is true that, for greater security of avoiding observation, I have been obliged to seek studiously the most unfrequented paths, and travel through these wild and solitary passes; but our journey draws to a conclusion, and all the appalling images of Moorish ruffians will soon be entirely dispelled."

"Alas! the dreaded sight of those infidels is not the only cause of my emotion," sadly replied Theodora.

"What else can occasion it?" demanded Gomez Arias, with anxiety. "Surely, my Theodora repents not the hour she intrusted herself to the protection of Gomez Arias?"

She spoke not for some time;--a flood of tears relieved her bursting bosom: then, as if struggling to collect her forces which were almost overpowered by sad recollections, she exclaimed--"Oh! never mention the hour of my crime--for crime it was, and a deadly sin, to abandon the best of parents, in his old age; and yet," she added, sobbing, "conscious as I am of my guilt, were the sin again to be committed, for thy sake, Lope, I should again brave the voice of self-reproach.--Gomez Arias, wert thou to read the hidden pages of my heart, there thou wouldst find a tale of boundless love and never-ending sorrow, which no words of mine can describe, but which must embitter the future portion of my existence, unless we speedily obtain the forgiveness of my injured parent."

"Nay, Theodora, this weakness is as unreasonable as it is unjust; nor can I at all imagine why thy future life should be embittered with grief, united as it is with the very being of Gomez Arias."

"I am sensible," cried Theodora, "both of the tenderness and sincerity of your love, and you know full well with what fervent devotion it is requited."

"What, then, can urge your mind to form such desponding anticipations? Have you seen aught in my conduct,--have you discerned anything in my words, that can afford even the shadow of justice to your apprehensions?"

"No, Gomez Arias," she answered; "your conduct to me has always been kind; your words breathing the same solicitude for my comfort and happiness: but you must forgive the weakness and fears of a fond woman's heart. Forgive me, Lope, if these feelings should sometimes create ideas galling at once to my peace, and derogatory to thy constancy and love. I have laboured hard to subdue them, but, alas! the exertion has constantly proved above my strength; I must give them utterance. Oh, Lope," she added; mournfully, "I fear you are not the same. Pardon me,--you are not the same, as when I first surrendered to you all my affections, fondly imagining you were mine for ever."

"Not the same!" ejaculated Gomez Arias; "have my attentions been less constant than from the first rapturous moment when you allowed me to call you my own?"

A deep long rending sigh burst from the bosom of Theodora, and her whole frame seemed to suffer from a painful recollection.

"No," she said, smiling sadly through her tears, "you watch with solicitude over me, and you are lavish of endearments; but, alas! the pure and soul-warm part of your affection I fear is flown."

"By my honor," said Gomez Arias, "I could never have expected these unkind expressions from you."

"Oh! Lope," cried the affrighted girl; "do not heed me; think not of the remarks to which my foolish fears give rise; I am ashamed of them myself. I will no more disturb your mind; no, never more shall the voice of complaint sound in your ears, and call forth the resentment of your wounded feelings.--Ah! Gomez Arias, compose yourself, and be not angry with your poor--your helpless Theodora."

As she uttered this affectionate appeal, her beautiful eyes were fixed on Don Lope, with an expression in which all the tender, all the genuine feelings of her heart seemed to be collected. Gomez Arias was softened; his features relaxed from that sudden asperity which had for a moment usurped the more habitual complacency of his countenance, and he endeavoured to dispel from the mind of Theodora the impression which such unkindness might produce.

They had now arrived at the summit of the little hill. It was a most delightful spot. A sward of short pliant grass carpeted a romantic little plain, skirted on one side by a portion of a forest, through which the sun cast short and interrupted glances of his parting splendour. Above the heads of the travellers, rose in dark grandeur the majestic form of the Alpujarras; and beneath them, as far as the eye could reach, was spread an extensive range of sylvan scenery, intermingled with the habitations of men. Farther, the little quiet villages lay slumbering in the soft blue shadows. The whole of the scene was wrapped in an indescribable charm, that well accorded with the tranquillity of the hour.

Here they halted, and Gomez Arias turning to Theodora said in an affectionate tone, "My love, your tender frame has already endured a greater share of fatigue than becomes your strength. Let us then, in this delightful and sequestered spot, indulge an hour in refreshing and invigorating repose."

Theodora assented in silence.

"Nay," continued Don Lope, "consult your inclination. I will not press you to rest, unless you feel its necessity."

"I have no wish but your own," cheerfully answered Theodora; "you appear inclined to stay in this place--let us tarry then."

Gomez Arias sprung lightly from his steed, and aided his fair companion to dismount. She threw herself into his arms, but as her feet touched the ground, she heaved a sigh, and cast a melancholy look around her.

"How you tremble, my love," said Don Lope; "this is the consequence of that rascally Roque's foolery. I have a good mind to chastise the fellow for the fears he has conjured in your breast."

Roque, who had followed at some distance in silent mood, no sooner heard his name pronounced, than he pricked up his ears like an intelligent dog on the scent for game, and when he heard his master's kind intentions towards him, he ventured to observe--

"Señor, I would not trespass on your generosity; pray reserve your intended favor for a future occasion, when I shall have more specially deserved it."

"Sirrah! be silent; come down, and tie the horses to yonder trees."

The valet obeyed briskly; while Gomez Arias conducted his fair companion to the entrance of the wood; where, arranging a couch under the spreading arms of a huge oak, he invited her to lie down and rest. She was about to accede to his invitation, when they were startled by a shrill and discordant sound accompanied with a heavy flapping of wings, and presently a flight of dull ill-omened ravens issued from their solitary abodes, and hovered about, as if to dispute the possession of their ancient homes with the intruders.

A fitful and involuntary shudder ran cold over the affrighted girl, as with a wild and appalled look she gazed on the recluse birds, which their arrival had disturbed; she clung eagerly to Gomez Arias, as they both sat down on the spot above-mentioned.

"What ails you, Theodora?" demanded Don Lope. "Is it possible that a few ravens can inspire with childish terrors a mind like yours?"

Theodora acknowledged her foolish weakness, but she was far from feeling tranquil and consoled. Indeed when she perceived Roque, with visible alarm, cross himself fervently three times, it added to the excitement of her feverish imagination.

Owls, ravens and bats, have always had an indisputable privilege to excite superstitious fears. Whence they derive this particular claim, it would be difficult to determine, but they are generally considered the harbingers of some dismal event, which is more properly, after all, the result of an over-heated fancy.

Theodora, who since she left the paternal roof had been a prey to that fixed sorrow which the intoxicating transports of love had not been able to subdue, now contemplated, in the gloomy croaking of the ravens, the sad presage of some dire misfortune. She reclined silently with downcast eyes, while Roque was busy in fastening the horses.

"Gently, gently, Babieca," said the valet, caressing the spirited steed of his master; then he muttered to himself--"for we have nothing to fear if we escape safe and sound from this place--So help me God if I did not count thirteen ravens, as ill-omened in every respect of size, color and voice, as a Christian might wish to behold--Well, our _Lady de las Angustias_ send us her grace and protection!"

"What art thou muttering there?" asked Gomez Arias. "Thou graceless varlet, hast thou a wish that I should fulfil the promise I made thee a short time since?"

"Señor?" inquired Roque, pretending not to hear.

"No dissembling, thou dog!--What art thou mumbling to thyself?"

"Save you, kind master; sure enough I am only praying, and in so doing I infringe not your commands, since I have your permission to pray to my soul's content, provided it is in a tacit capuchin-like manner."

The ravens having practised their cumbrous evolutions, now sought their rest amidst the deeper gloom of the forest, and all again was hushed, to the great relief of Roque, who forthwith began to devour alone the provisions which, like a careful and sagacious forager, he had provided against the necessities of the journey.

Theodora had laid aside her hat and veil, to enjoy the luxury of repose with greater convenience, whilst her lover placing himself near her, and watching her every movement, diffused by his tender anxiety a transient joy over her features. She soon insensibly sunk into that sweet state of languor which precedes sleep--her beautiful eyes by fits now entirely closing, now gently opening, indicated the gradual absorption of her senses, till at last she fell into a profound slumber. Gomez Arias, who as we have observed stood watching her, like the tender mother over her beloved daughter, now knelt close by her side, and softly pronounced her name--she answered not--he took her yielding hand, gazed over her anxiously, till he was perfectly assured that a profound sleep had completely overpowered her faculties.

"Señor," quoth Roque, "methinks it would be a pity to disturb the slumbers of the poor lady after the journey she has undergone."

"I do not mean to interrupt her rest," said Gomez Arias, in a low voice, "so we must even retire."

Then he rose up with cautious silence, and drawing near his valet, he added--

"Rise, rise quickly, and make no noise."

Roque obeyed, and both having retreated to some distance--"Señor," observed the valet, who cared not again to disturb the ominous ravens, for which he felt an instinctive horror--"Señor, no necessity for retiring further."

"Yes there is an imperious one," replied Gomez Arias, "I can no longer remain here."

"What say you, my honored master!" demanded Roque, alarmed; "surely you are not afraid of the Moors? By my conscience, we should come to a pretty pass if such were really the case."

"Peace, thou wretch!" said Don Lope; "speak not a word, but immediately untie my horse, and as you expect to live, mind you make not noise enough to disturb even the leaf of the tree."

"Señor, I do not understand," quoth the bewildered Roque.

"I must begone," impatiently replied his master.

"Gone, Sir! Why I understood you had determined not to break our young lady's repose."

"Nor is that my intention. She must remain here with thee, till I am out of sight."

"_Cuerpo de Christo!_ What ails you my dear Señor; what ails you, in the name of _San Jose bendito_?" exclaimed the astounded Roque, who really imagined his master was beside himself.

"Listen, Roque," said Gomez Arias, "and mind thou religiously observest my instructions. Unavoidable circumstances require that I and Theodora should part; I have been seeking an opportunity of so doing, and assuredly I shall not find a better than the present. It is necessary I should return to Granada immediately, and it would be highly imprudent to hazard the chance of being seen with Theodora, for reasons of which thou must be well aware. A separation, therefore, becomes at this moment indispensable. When I am gone, thou shalt awaken yon sleeping beauty, and accompany her thyself to the said city, where I shall precede you in order to make arrangements for her reception. There is a nunnery, of which my cousin Ursula is the Lady Abbess, where she shall for the present find an asylum. Thou hast only to inform Theodora, that I thought it most advisable to ride in advance to prepare our retreat. Upon thy arrival at the _Torre del Aceytuno_ a man will join thee, to whom thou must look for further instruction, and whose direction thou art to follow with confidence. Thy reward shall be proportioned to the magnitude of the service; so now get me my horse, and let me begone ere she awake."

Roque remained thunderstruck as his master revealed to him his cruel intentions; the poor fellow drew his hand across his eyes, as if to ascertain whether or no he was under the delusion of a dream; but as his master in a more imperative voice repeated his injunctions, the reality of his barbarous purpose burst upon his mind.

"No, no, Don Lope," he said in a supplicating tone, "such surely cannot be your intentions; abandon the poor girl! no, you only wish to trifle with my credulity."

"I must begone," resolutely retorted Gomez Arias.

"Why, Sir, assuredly you loved her?"

"I loved her once, but that is passed."

"_Holy Virgin del tremedal!_ What say you, Señor? What has the poor lady done? How has she offended you, unless it be in loving you too well?"

"Aye, Roque, thou art a shrewd fellow; she has indeed loved me too well."

"But consider, my honored master, she is more like an angel than a woman; never before did I see a being so kind, so tender and devoted."

"Roque, Roque, be not sententious; I have no time to listen to thy sentimental cant; the qualities which thou praisest in Theodora are precisely those that withdraw me from her.--Haste thee, I say--What is the fool staring at?"

"But, Señor Don Lope Gomez Arias," solemnly said Roque, "consider that common humanity----"

"Humanity!" interrupted his master, "how am I deficient in humanity, when I place her in the only situation that becomes her, since a marriage between us is utterly impossible. But enough; a truce with your remarks; prepare to obey my orders, and take care thou art strict in their observance as thou valuest my regard, or tremblest at the effects of my wrath and indignation. However, to remove thy ridiculous and ill-timed scruples, I must recall to thy mind that I cannot pursue another course, for thou art aware that I am betrothed to Leonor; I must not violate the sanctity of my promise, and thereby lose the favor of the Queen, and incur the resentment of the justly offended Don Alonso de Aguilar."

This last observation somewhat reconciled Roque to the necessity of the measure, the more so as he hoped that, when at Granada, another plan might be devised for Theodora, besides that of conventual reclusion; and finally, as he knew that all further expostulation would be thrown away upon his master, he prudently contented himself with shrugging up his shoulders, and holding the stirrup for Don Lope to mount.

Gomez Arias briskly leaped upon his horse, and was about to depart, when casting a last look on the victim he was deserting, the better feelings of his heart seemed for a moment to struggle for predominance.

There is something peculiarly interesting in the sleep of a young and beautiful woman; the features unruffled by anxiety or care, appear more soft and attractive. The mind of the gazer scans with nicer accuracy her charms, and dwells with fonder attention on each beauty of the lovely sleeper. Besides the consciousness of so gentle, so helpless and so heavenly a form, sleeping in innocent security, confiding in the protection of man, and that very helplessness of her nature, awakens a sentiment of sympathy and tenderness, as undefinable as it is thrilling and transporting. And such was the sleep of Theodora: she was young and replete with charms, and, alas! but too helpless and in need of protection. Her beauteous form was displayed to the greatest advantage; the sportive breeze now playing amidst her luxuriant hair, which occasionally concealed a countenance beaming in loveliness, and hushed in soft repose, imparted a degree of fairy grace and delicate freshness to her charms. One of her arms was carelessly thrown over her, and with the other she supported her head, while, unconscious of the fate with which she was threatened, she slept on in security. And now a tinge of animation illumined her countenance, or a fascinating smile played upon her lips, as she dreamed perhaps, like the fond deserted Ariadné, that her godlike lover was still watching over the slumbers of his beloved.

Gomez Arias still gazed on her--he heard his name in smothered accents escape her tender bosom, but it awakened in him no feeling of delight, for his heart had now resumed its cold calculations of worldly pursuits; perhaps the predominant sentiment of his mind at this moment, was the necessity of immediate departure, lest the imagination of the unconscious victim should master the deluded senses, and call them back to life, before he had time to remove from the spot.

"Lope! my love!" murmured Theodora, and a gentle thrill seemed to agitate her, as she extended her arm, as though she would assure him that whether sleeping or awake, Gomez Arias was the object that predominated over all her thoughts and affections. Yet Gomez Arias stood calmly for a moment by the victim he was deserting, and bidding her a long farewell, rode slowly and silently on his way.