Part 9

My first care when I arrived at the inn where I caused my trunks to be carried, was to have three good mules bought for my use. You may be sure I paid dear for them; but this signified but little in my present situation. In addition to the twenty-five thousand franks which I now possessed, four thousand more had fallen to me by the death of my companion in fortune. I hired also a muleteer who was well acquainted with the roads, and we left the city the following morning as soon as the gates were open. My impatience to leave Barcelona as soon as possible may easily be conceived; a felucca might have arrived there, with orders from my relations to arrest me. It was incumbent on me therefore to be active. To so prudent a fear I added the precaution of avoiding all the high roads, telling my followers, that as my sole object in travelling was my own pleasure, it was my wish to reach the Ebro as fast as possible; that, as I rode along its banks, I might be gratified with a view of the charming landscapes on both sides of it.

CHAP. XLVI.

_Guzman, on his journey to Saragossa, makes acquaintance and falls in love with a young Widow. Progress and conclusion of this new passion._

I steered clear of the high roads, for the reasons I have already told you, and spurring on my mule through all the byeways towards the Ebro, intending to coast it from thence to Saragossa, I travelled with as much speed as fear. In three days we reached the banks of the river. My mind became now more at ease; and I began to believe myself beyond the reach of pursuit, and to congratulate myself on my riches, without reflecting that I was travelling through a country in which there were as many robbers as in Italy. I had taken the precaution, however, to purchase two firelocks in Barcelona, with which I armed my footman and the muleteer. In addition to this, I concealed my jewels about me so cautiously, that no one could perceive them without stripping me.

I shall pass over in silence, friendly reader, the adventures I met with on the banks of Ebro, which are not worthy to be related, and proceed to make you acquainted with one which fortune prepared for me between Ossera and Saragossa. Night surprised me near a fine abbey, which I took for a castle, and which I approached in the hope of obtaining a lodging; but finding that a wretched village lay under it, I changed my opinion. We stopped before a paltry hovel, at which a sign was suspended, and, knocking loudly at the door, demanded admission. Nobody answered us at first, but at length a country fellow appeared at one of the windows. This was the landlord, who, having surveyed me from top to toe by the light of a lamp which he held in his hand, began to laugh, saying, “Do not waste any further time here, Signor Cavalier, my house is not fit to receive you; go to the abbey, where you will meet with a hearty welcome, and be more suitably entertained.” I answered the peasant, that I would follow his advice, and, as we were ignorant of the road, requested him to conduct us to the convent, at the same time slipping a few reals into his hand, to add more efficacy to my entreaty.

The monastery stood on an eminence, so that we were nearly half an hour ascending it by a very rough road, which to me, who was already much fatigued, was very distressing. Nevertheless, as there is nothing so good as to be entirely free from unpleasantry, so neither is there any thing so bad but has something agreeable to recommend it. The inn-keeper informed me that this was a convent for nuns, all of whom were ladies of quality; that it was one of the richest in Spain, and received all strangers that passed through the village with hospitality. I felt, without knowing wherefore, that this report pleased me; either from reviving my natural predilection for the fair sex, or from a presentiment of what would happen to me. When we reached the great gate we rang several times before any body from within made answer. At length a voice asked us, through the wicket, what we wanted. The inn-keeper, who was known to the porter, told him, “that we were looking for lodging; that he could not entertain us himself, and had, consequently, conducted us to the abbey.” The muleteer added, by my orders, “that an asylum was requested, for one night only, for a foreign nobleman, who had lost his way travelling to Saragossa.”

The porter answered, “that the convent-gate was always shut at eight o’clock, and that it was now nine; that, notwithstanding such was the rule, he would go, from the consideration he naturally had for persons of quality, and inform the lady abbess of my situation, and obey her orders.” I was obliged to wait with patience at the gate for her answer. The porter at length returned and informed us that the abbess could not think of opening the gate at such an unseasonable hour to gentlemen entirely unknown to her. This refusal vexed me extremely. I dismounted from my mule, and advanced towards the wicket; and, speaking myself to the porter, entreated him to return to the abbess, and tell her, on my behalf, that if she knew the favour she would confer on me, in affording me a retreat for that night, she would cease to be inexorable. The porter told me, “it was to no purpose to persist in requesting what she would never permit.” Not being able to influence the porter in my favour by prayers, I offered a bribe, which he refused with disdain, and shut the wicket in my face. I feared there was now no chance of sleeping that night in the monastery, and, yielding to necessity, told my servants to lead the three mules back again to the peasant’s; that, for my own part, rather than be stived up in that wretched tavern, I felt desirous to pass away a few hours where I was, in listening to the murmuring of the Ebro.

It was a lovely night. I strolled round the house, observing with an eye of curiosity whatever I could discern by the light of the stars, which shone extremely bright. I followed a sloping path which led me under a balcony that commanded a view of the river. I sat down at the foot of a tree opposite the balcony, which I considered attentively, supposing it to be my lady abbess’s apartment. I could perceive a light, and shortly after a confused noise of female voices struck my ear; then all of a sudden a profound silence ensued, which was interrupted in its turn by a Spanish song warbled by a very delicate voice. The singer seemed to please her company exceedingly, and she was much applauded. Another lady then sang an Italian air with which I was well acquainted, and was equally complimented. So immoderate a desire then possessed me to amuse the ladies with my melodious voice, that I could scarcely have the patience to hear this song out. I was half inclined to sing the same over again, for it was one of those for which I had been most applauded at the Grand Duke’s concert at Florence. However, I was prudent enough to spare the lady the mortification of the comparison; and having remembered another air which had particularly pleased the Grand Duchess, I chose that in its stead.

Hoping thus agreeably to surprise these recluses by my fine voice, as well as by the singularity of the adventure, I sang, and, when I had finished the air, had the pleasure of hearing exclamations of astonishment mingled with admiration. The glass-door of the balcony flew open, and several ladies hurried forward in the hope of seeing who it could be that sang so sweetly. I affected not to observe them, and, after having paused a moment, began my air again. As soon as I ceased, I could hear myself again applauded by the ladies, who, however, in the hopes of being favoured with another, communicated their admiration only in whispers. I perceived their design, and was malicious enough to provoke them by remaining silent, without stirring from the spot. One of the ladies, more impatient than the rest, then addressed me, saying, “That one song from so charming a voice was but very insufficient for so many ladies who were so passionately fond of music.” “’Tis too little,” replied I in Italian, “for so many ladies, but far too much for a pilgrim, to whom they have so cruelly refused shelter.”

My answer excited great laughter, from which they supposed I was the stranger who had requested to lodge in the abbey. “Signor Cavalier,” cried one of them, “be not displeased at the refusal that was returned you. It is a law established in this convent not to admit any strange gentleman after eight o’clock in the evening; but your charming voice has had such influence, that the lady abbess consents, for once, to dispense with the regulation, and, unless you are so true a knight-errant as to prefer passing the night on the banks of this river, has just given order to open the gates to you.” I made answer, “that I was rejoiced to learn that to obtain shelter from my lady abbess it was only necessary to set my request to music.” This little trait of raillery excited their laughter afresh, more especially as it was the lady abbess herself to whom I was speaking. They were by no means displeased with my apparent gaiety, and, as they wished to take a nearer view of my figure, of which they could form but an indistinct idea where I sat, they entreated me to walk in, telling me “that the lady abbess would soon be reconciled to me.”

At these words, to shew them that I desired nothing better than such an invitation, I rose instantly, and bowing to the company in the most respectful manner as I passed the balcony, I soon regained the abbey-gate, where the porter met me, and, desiring me to follow him, conducted me into a large and very elegant parlour. Here I was received by the lady abbess and a secular lady; they were both seated on cushions of violet-coloured damask, and six or seven nuns stood behind them. All these ladies kept profoundly silent, and preserved an air of gravity which would have disconcerted any other but myself; but I had so often visited the grate at Rome, that I knew well what behaviour to adopt. I accosted them, therefore, in a jocose manner, and some lucky sallies which escaped me soon dissipated their affected gravity. I then complained in so good-natured a manner of the law which forbids them to admit strangers into the convent at night, that I soon succeeded in amusing them.

In the mean time a small table was laid out with some venison pasties, wine, and sweetmeats. I needed no very pressing invitation to eat and drink, for I acquitted myself like a hungry traveller as I was, not forgetting, however, to whisper occasional compliments to the lady abbess, as well as to the secular lady, whom I thought very handsome. She had an air of youth and peculiar sprightliness, which rendered her particularly engaging. Some of the nuns remarking that I admired her, asked me if I did not think that their community had reason to be proud of the acquisition of such a lady. This inspired me with a thousand thoughts in her favour. I spoke nothing but Italian, and being dressed also in the Italian fashion, I easily passed for one of that nation. Such of the ladies as were acquainted with that language were so condescending as not to speak to me in Spanish. When they perceived that I had done eating, they contrived to turn the conversation on music, and one and all entreated me to favour them with one of the newest Italian airs. I consented willingly, and, animated by degrees, by the praises bestowed on me at the end of each couplet, such a rage for singing possessed me, that no sooner had I finished one song than I began another. As to the company, and especially the secular lady, they were so delighted to listen to me, that they seemed not to have the least thought of retiring, though it was already after midnight. I really believe that day would have surprised us in the parlour, had not the abbess, for the sake of preserving the DECORUM of a monastic life, thought proper to put an end to a pastime so contrary to their established regulations, by reminding the ladies that they were imposing on my good nature. “Our guest,” said she, “cannot but be fatigued; besides, you ought to reserve some pleasure for to-morrow. He will not, I trust, think of departing before we have had the pleasure of seeing him again.” This was a polite way of desiring me to sing no more; so that, wishing the company good night, I joined the porter, who was waiting at the parlour-door to conduct me to the apartment that was prepared for me.

I was not a little astonished in entering to find my servants there, whom they had been kind enough to send for, with my baggage, and who had been entertained like myself. I found also that even my three mules had not been forgotten, and that, thanks to their master’s fine voice, they had had a good bellyful of provender in the convent stables. The chamber in which I lay, occupied my attention for some time. There was in the furniture, although plain, a certain air of simplicity far superior to magnificence; and my bed could not have been better prepared even for the Archbishop of Saragossa. Having got into it, I told my servants to follow the porter to their beds. I then called the muleteer to me, who was no fool, and charged him to be sure to ascertain who the secular lady was whom I had seen with the Lady Abbess. He acquitted himself well of this commission: “Sir,” said he, when I rose the next morning, “I have questioned one of the footmen respecting the lady of whom you wish to know, and he has told me every particular without hesitation. She is a widow, as he says, very rich, and of one of the best families in Saragossa. She has many admirers; and among others, a nephew of the Lady Abbess, a young man of about two and twenty at most, wonderfully well made, and extremely handsome. Unless, however, I am much mistaken,” added he, “my mistress is but very indifferent to his addresses; while on the contrary my Lady Abbess, who has a great affection for this unlicked cub, is most anxious to promote the match. This is all,” said the muleteer, “that I have learnt from the footman; but the porter has just informed me that this young widow, who arrived at the abbey only an hour or two before you, intends to return home this afternoon.”

At the word widow, I sighed deeply. It brought to my recollection my fair one at Florence, and I at first imagined that I was sighing for her; but to say the truth, I soon felt that my heart, less intent upon the past than the present, was captivated by the charms of the widow of Saragossa. I could no longer doubt it when I beheld her again in the parlour, where the abbess, after mass was over, invited me. I appeared there again with all the good humour of the preceding evening. There were but three nuns with the abbess besides the object of my new passion. The conversation soon became lively and facetious, and was by no means damped by the arrival of several more of the most sprightly nuns in the convent, who joined us soon after. My lovely widow, who possessed a fund of wit, contributed her share, and I applauded, from the bottom of my heart, every little repartee that escaped her lips. She saw plainly that I was in admiration at every thing she said, and that I distinguished her from the rest of the company, and she was evidently not a little pleased by my attentions.

In the midst of our laughter, a servant announced to the abbess that Don Antonio de Miras was on the stairs, which seemed to please her extremely; for this was her dear nephew whom she wished to see united to the beautiful widow. His aunt had sent him word the evening before, that Donna Lucia (for that was my charmer’s name) was at the abbey, and he could not of course neglect so favourable an opportunity of waiting upon a lady whom he aspired to marry. The portrait that the muleteer had given me of this young gentleman, was by no means flattering, for I never beheld a handsomer cavalier. No woman ever so vain of her beauty but might have been proud to have had such a face. Add to which he was of a handsome figure, and had every appearance of a man of quality. His dress, which was extremely elegant, added also to his prepossessing appearance. I should certainly have died with jealousy at sight of such a rival, had I not been previously informed that he was by no means eminently gifted with understanding. This thought helped to support me against such formidable disadvantages, and an observation which I afterwards made emboldened me at least to dispute with him the heart of Donna Lucia; for I perceived that this lady, so far from testifying any joy at his arrival, seemed to look upon him with an eye of indifference, and replied very coldly to all his compliments.

Don Antonio and I at first looked at each other like two young cocks; but as it was my interest to be on good terms with him, I loaded him with compliments, and in less than an hour we were the best friends in the world. When dinner hour arrived, the abbess caused two tables to be laid in the parlour, one without the grate for her nephew and myself, and the other within for the ladies. Our repast, which was fit for the first nobleman to sit down to, was seasoned with jests and anecdotes, which amused us all exceedingly. More than half the afternoon was passed away in the same agreeable manner.

I talked, sang, laughed, and in short shewed that I could do any thing; insomuch that the nuns, though accustomed to receive the visits of gentlemen, assured me that they had never yet seen one possessing such a fund of amusement. In the mean time the hour of separation drew nigh. It was time for the fair widow to set off for Saragossa, if she hoped to arrive there before night. She took leave, therefore, of the Lady Abbess and the nuns, and ascended into her litter, which was in waiting for her at the door. As it was my intention to accompany her, I had ordered my equipage also to be in readiness. I vaulted nimbly on my mule, which cut but a sorry figure by the side of Don Antonio’s hunter. Besides his having one of the finest horses in Spain, this young gentleman was an experienced horseman, and before we started made his horse pass through a thousand manoeuvres with considerable grace. I was extremely mortified that I could not by any means provoke my peaceable and stupid mule to imitate him; my endeavours to make him caper a little, served only to amuse the ladies who were observing us from the windows.

The Don pranced on one side of the litter, and I trotted on the other, for the sake of conversing with Donna Lucia on the road. We began, or rather, I began to discourse with her, for young Miras took so little part in the conversation, that he seldom went beyond a monosyllable, contenting himself with showing off his elegant person on horse-back to the best advantage. Knowing Don Antonio to be no great wit, I should have been a greater simpleton than he, had I not availed myself of so favourable an opportunity. Lucia asked me “if I intended to make a long stay at Saragossa.” “That will depend on the pleasure in store for me at that place,” replied I: “should my wishes be realized, I shall remain there a considerable time.” A tender glance with which I accompanied these words, spoke volumes. Lucia understood my meaning, and blushed deeply; but her eyes informed me that she felt not offended, and I was well pleased that I had hazarded this declaration, since it had not proved disagreeable to her, nor excited the jealousy of Miras, to whom it was a complete enigma.

I was somewhat surprised that so young and lovely a person as Lucia, should travel above a league from Saragossa, with a retinue consisting only of a duenna, one lackey and a muleteer. I had yet to know the privileges of widows in that country, where they enjoy unrestricted freedom. Travelling with so feeble an escort they frequently expose themselves to unexpected and unpleasant rencontres. Thus Donna Lucia, though accompanied by two cavaliers and her own attendants, was somewhat alarmed at a trifling adventure that befel us on our journey. We were already half way to Saragossa, when we perceived at a distance a most beautiful hunter, whose speed was equal to that of Bayarte or Brigliador,[B] and who, galloping towards us, raised such a cloud of dust that we could not at first distinguish who was the cavalier who rode him; but no sooner could we discern him, than I fancied I saw the furious Rolando before me, such fierceness was in his looks.

[B] The names of two chargers famous in ancient romance; the former belonged to Reynaldos de Montalvan, and the latter to Orlando Furioso.--See the Octavo Edition of “Don Quixote, translated by Jarvis,” vol. 2, page 329. _Trans._

When he came up within ten or twelve paces of us, he stopped short to look at me. My foreign dress attracted his attention, and he seemed still more surprised at the familiar manner in which I was conversing with the fair widow. He was himself one of this lady’s suitors, and flattered himself with great hopes of winning her, relying upon the opinion he imagined all the world must have of his bravery, to ensure him success over all his rivals. Seeing then Don Antonio on one side and me on the other, he rode most furiously between Miras and the litter, so that he almost overturned the one and dismounted the other. The lady was much alarmed at this insolent action, and told this bully in a rage, that the road was wide enough to allow of his passing, without presuming to insult persons who deserved more respect. He apologized to Lucia in a tone and manner more insolent than the action itself.

Miras, at the first impulse of his resentment, clapped his hands upon his pistol, but whether from the fear of missing his aim, or from an excessive respect towards his mistress, he did not venture further in an engagement, for which, by the bye, he felt no great inclination. I pitied his awkward situation, and felt much disposed to take up his quarrel, thinking that this swaggerer was but a braggadocio. I reflected, however, that I might find myself mistaken; and seeing that the party most interested was not very forward in resenting the affront, I was wise enough to refrain from taking up his cudgels. All that I could do for him was, to request him to come to my side, and yield my place to him, which offer he accepted willingly, quite indifferent as to Lucia’s opinion of his courage in being obliged thus to quit his post. Our blustering companion called himself Don Lucio de Ribera. He had been informed that the beautiful widow had slept at the monastery the preceding night, and intended to return this day. Accordingly he rode from the city to meet her, and offer his services to escort her home.

No sooner did this fellow perceive that Don Antonio had resigned his post, instead of thinking of maintaining it, than he took immediate possession of it himself, and prepared to converse with the lady, who, however, deceived his expectation; for, to mortify him, she answered not a word to all he had to say. She deigned not even to look at him, keeping her eyes and attention fixed on Miras and me. In this manner we arrived at Saragossa, and conducted Donna Lucia to her house, where she thanked me most politely for my attentions, adding, that she hoped that the city had sufficient charms to detain me some time. She observed but little ceremony towards the other two gentlemen, acknowledging their civility with a slight bow only. I took no notice of the haughty Don Lucio in parting, but paid a thousand compliments to Don Antonio, which so much pleased him, that he insisted on accompanying me to the Angel, a famous inn at the entrance of the town, and whither I had desired my luggage to be conveyed. Here Miras took his leave of me, in terms which convinced me that so far from suspecting me for a rival, he believed me to be one of his best friends.