CHAPTER IX.

THE TERTULIA.

In the morning, after coffee, a devilled bone and a cigar, we sallied forth to deliver the dispatch of our Governor to the captain general, and resolved, soon after, to bid farewell to Seville; for Jack was full of fears that the whole corps would be off, bag and baggage, to fight the Russians before we could return. The hour was somewhat early, so we rambled about the beautiful city; but I do not mean to inflict upon the reader a description of all we saw--of the gay crowds who thronged the Plaza de Toros and the Alameda, with fan and mantilla, sombrero and mantle; of the cathedral of Santa Maria, with its carved buttresses and stupendous spires; of the Alcazar or palace of the Moorish kings, with all its arabesques and oval arches; of the Lonja and the huge tobacco factory. I beg my reader to imagine them all, for I could easily devote five several chapters to describing these five several edifices. It is enough that the Sevillanos have an ancient proverb, that he who never saw Seville has never seen a wonder; to wit--

"Que en no ha visto Sevilla, Ne ha visto Maravilla."

As we issued from the cathedral, Jack's loquacity was somewhat stilled by the grandeur of that stupendous pile and its dark Murillos, the chief of which is the adoration of the Saviour by St. Anthony of Padua--I beg pardon--of Lisbon and of Lagos--and full of thoughts, which were rather solemn for such fellows as we are, we walked slowly on with our eyes fixed on the far-famed tower of the weathercock--the Giralda--which rises at the north-east angle of the church, when a personage, whose eyes were raised to the same altitude, came somewhat violently against us, and then we poured forth mutual apologies.

"Maldito--come esta, señores; well met."

"Come esta, señor major--who would have thought of meeting you here?"

"Why so?" asked Don Joaquim, for he proved to be our friend of the noble regiment of Lagos; "I think that I mentioned Seville as my native city--so you have reached the end of your journey?"

"Yes, and mean to leave this to-morrow," said Jack.

"So early! Maldito--a short visit. Is your business so soon concluded?"

"It is not yet begun; we have a dispatch for the captain general."

"Indeed!" said he, with wonder in his face.

"Where is his palace? We were just about to inquire the way."

"You must pass the Lonja, our famous Exchange, a triumph of the genius of Juan de Herrera--the architect of the Escurial; well, you must pass it, and cross the Plaza de Toros; but allow me to have the pleasure of escorting you."

"Many thanks."

"None are necessary, señores--hut this dispatch for the captain general--Maldito! I am bursting with irrepressible curiosity to know what it is about. Are we going to war with Russia too?"

"Then, señor," said I, "we may as well inform you that it concerns the killing of a man on board of a Spanish government guarda costa, by a chance shot from the Mole Fort at Gibraltar."

"He was in pursuit of a contrabandista, I presume?"

"Exactly so."

"Ah, those rascally contrabandistas! It is too bad of your Government to protect them--quite as bad as making war on the Chinese because they would not poison themselves with opium. I heard that some of your people had shot at a guarda costa, and killed some one on hoard. It has excited considerable animosity, and been much spoken of."

He led us through several dark and narrow streets, so narrow, indeed, that people could easily have shaken hands from the windows on each side of these quaint old Moorish thoroughfares. Issuing suddenly into the full Haze of the scorching Spanish sunshine, we found ourselves before a handsome palace decorated by Corinthian pilasters, and having its lofty windows covered by external shades of brilliant red and white striped stuff. Two sentinels of the line stood at the portal under sunshades, with their muskets "ordered;" and they stared at our uniform with black and lacklustre eyes.

"The palace of the captain general," said Don Joaquim, bowing; "he has just returned from Jaen, having gone on a pilgrimage to the Holy Face."

"We must have the pleasure of meeting you again," said I.

"Our hotel is the Queen's--de la Reyna--near the Exchange," added Slingsby.

"Oh, I know the place very well," replied the Don, producing his card, a token of civilisation little known in Spain; "my mother gives a tertulia to-night, and we shall be delighted to see you--her reception hour is eight--Donna Dominga de Lucena--Calle del Alcazar."

"You are the son of Donna Dominga, whom we had the pleasure of knowing in Gibraltar?"

"The same, señores. Are you the gentlemen who were so kind and attentive to her? It is quite a little romance this meeting. How odd, to think that we sat a whole night in the venta of Castellar and knew nothing about this! Then, doubtless, one of you must be that accomplished cavalier, Don Leja Mag Leja, concerning whom she wrote me so many letters when I was at Lagos."

With some laughter, we professed that neither of us was the portly Leechy Mac Leechy, to whose name the Donna had given somewhat of a Castilian character in her epistles to the major.

"But about the tertulia? we have no full uniform," urged Jack.

"Full uniform--bagatella!--stuff--come just as you are; but as your business here is about that unlucky guarda costa, 'tis as well my brother Hernan has not arrived; for he is in our naval service, and might feel piqued on the subject. Well, addio--I shall see you at eight to-night--don't forget, the street of the Alcazar," and with a salute he left us.

The sentinels at the door "handled" their arms as we ascended the flight of marble steps which led to the door of the captain general's palace.

"The last general officer with whom I had the honour of an interview was old Towler, of the Kilkenny district," said Slingsby; "I have no idea what manner of man our Spaniard may be."

As the interview with the captain-general and all the various pros and cons thereanent--as a Scotsman would say--may have appeared already among the public intelligence of "our own correspondent," who most likely was not in Seville, and knew nothing about the matter, I will only state that we were received with great urbanity and politeness by the Spanish officer who held the important post of Governor of the four kingdoms. He was a fine old cavalier, and in earlier years had served in the Peninsular war; he told us that he had commanded a regiment under Cuesta; a brigade of Cazadores under Hill, and a division under Murillo; that he had been wounded at Vittoria in attacking the heights of La Puebla, and had received the Grand Cross of the Bath from the hand of the Duke of Wellington, and latterly the Order of Carlos III., which devoted him "to the pure conception of the blessed Virgin Mary," from the Queen and the Patriarch of the Indies, at the solemn chapter held in 1853. The old fellow's eyes kindled with pleasure as he invited us to lunch, and to share with him a bottle of choice Valdepenas, saying that he loved the sight of the red coat for the memory of the olden time that would never come again--the poor red coats--he had often seen them lying thick enough on many a Spanish plain, and in many a crumbling breach and trench--at Badajoz, at Ciudad Rodrigo, San Sebastian and Tarifa.

Here, at least, was one noble old Spanish soldier--one true cavalier--whose lively recollection of those great campaigns (which are second to none the world has seen) and whose sense of what his country owed to ours, formed a strong contrast to that cold ingratitude which desecrated the tomb of the Scottish hero of Corunna, and ploughed up the graves of our brave men, who were buried in the little field beneath the ramparts of Tarifa; and for the repose of whose bones our Government had to pay a sum to Spain.

We received from him a letter to the Governor of Gibraltar, stating that our explanations of the affair of the guarda costa had perfectly satisfied him; and on our rising to retire he made us an offer of a cavalry escort as far as San Roque, which lies within a few miles of our garrison; but being aware that we should be obliged to maintain both the horses and the men, and to make them a handsome donation at parting, I declined, saying that we had an idea of returning by San Lucar de Barameda, and would there take the steamer for Gibraltar.

"But remember there is that restless gentleman, Don Fabrique de Urquija," said the general, smiling; "he makes the roads very unsafe, and does not hesitate to commit such outrages as have not been known in the land since Marshal Massena marched through it."

We assured him of our being without fear in the matter; on which he laughed, saying that he knew "los Brittanicos, of old, and that, like our fathers who fought under Wellington, Hill, and Grahame, we also were without fear," and we parted, highly flattered and delighted by our interview with this old Castilian hidalgo.

We lounged long in the Alameda, where the notice our uniform attracted was rather an annoyance. After dining at the hotel and making the most of our costume that our light marching order would admit, we appeared at the door of Donna Dominga's residence in the Calle del Alcazar, just as the cathedral clock struck eight; for the Spaniards are too well bred to esteem any one the more for being late at a conversazione, for such is a tertulia in fact and in effect.

A number of sedans, borne by servants in livery, were standing about the steps of the mansion; and the links and torches flared on the coats of arms that decorated the panels and the collars of Santiago and Calatrava which surrounded them. Various long-visaged and spindle-shanked representatives of the pure did blood of los Cuatros Reinos, untainted by the stain of Moor, or Jew, or heretic, were stalking through the vestibule with due gravity and grandeur.

We were ushered forward by one servant, and were announced by another on entering the saloon, where our old friend Donna Dominga sat with fan and snuff-box in hand receiving her guests; and as her son had prepared her for our visit, she was in a prodigious flutter, with her fat round face forming the apex of a pyramid of black satin and black Cadiz lace; for her veil, which was of the finest texture, fell over all her person.

By her side sat the pretty Paulina on a rich low tabourette, gracefully as a Spanish lady sits at mass, or a Moorish maiden on her little carpet, for it is from their Arabian conquerors that the low seats of the Spanish dames are borrowed.

The major, who wore the blue uniform and massive silver epaulettes of "the noble Regiment of St. Anthony," and who had the order of St. John of Portugal on his breast, hurried forward to meet and to present us. Then the younger donna blushed crimson, while the elder wished very much to do so too, and dropping her eyelids, fanned herself, and affected to be much agitated. We bowed very low and then stepped back, as it is not the custom in Spain to shake hands. After a few of those complimentary remarks and those commonplaces, which are customary in every country, we should have withdrawn a little to make way for other tertulianos, had not Donna Dominga especially invited us to remain beside her; and while the presentation continued, and all that were noble (being rich or beautiful went for nought in Seville) appeared in succession, and while caballeros and grave and solemn hidalgos, with the red cross of Calatrava, and the little sword of San Jago dangling at their button-holes, advanced slowly, and with a faint smile and courtly bow laid a hand on their heart and lisped the usual and invariable "A los pies de usted, señoras" (I am at your feet, ladies), and then retired; I was chatting gaily with Paulina, who had now become more assured, and who overwhelmed me with a thousand inquiries about Gibraltar and her friends. Meantime that rogue Jack Slingsby poured into her mother's ear pretended messages from MacLeechy, our doctor--messages so tender and so pitiful that the old lady relented and forgave him being married, saying it was "his misfortune, not his fault, poor man;" Jack asserted his belief that the doctor was quite of her opinion; and then the bulbous-shaped fair one made a vigorous use of her fan and snuff-box, as she conjured up the image of the "gay deceiver."

The saloon was a large apartment; the floor was of polished oak, and was varnished until it shone like glass; the ceiling was of cedar, and divided into deep, dark panels; the walls were painted white, and were hung with several dusky pictures, principally of religious subjects; one of these was by Roelas; another by Murillo, and both had narrowly escaped abstraction by the French, during the War of Independence, for Messrs. Soult, Suchet, and Co., made everything march over the Pyrenees that was neither too hot nor too heavy.

Our garrison evening parties in Gibraltar had shown Donna Dominga that considerable improvements might be made upon the solemn gravity of the Spanish tertulia; thus the company were pressed to stay longer than usual in honour of us; we had a few airs on the piano--a very antique instrument, said to have been found among Joseph's baggage at Vittoria, and in no way calculated to give full effect to the compositions of Donizetti, Verdi, or Orsini, which Paulina and her companions attempted to give us; but then they had their guitars, and the lively songs of old Spain, and legendary ballads of the brave Avalos of the Ronda, which if destitute of science, had at least the merit of being full of music and melody.

Every sound was hushed as Paulina sang the song which was wont to turn the heads of half Her Majesty's garrison.

"Since for kissing thee, Minguillo, Mother's ever scolding me; Give me swiftly back, O dear one, Give the kiss I gave to thee!"

Either by chance, or an irresistible inclination, our eyes met just as she sang these very tender and pointed words, and a soft tinge shot over her pure white cheek. My own heart filled with a tumult of emotion, for the aspect of this noble Spanish girl, as she sat on the low tabourette, in an attitude full of grace, with her high proud head and the long veil of black lace that fell from it over her back and shoulders, was so bewildering, that I felt convinced my peace of mind would require an explanation with her before my bantering mentor and I turned our horses' heads once more towards Gibraltar.

We had now a little waltzing, and a quadrille or two, with plenty of groseille and fleur d'orange.

I had a thousand things to tell Paulina; but when she was the centre of almost every eye in the room, it was no easy matter to be tender; besides, whenever I looked round, the comical eye of Jack Slingsby, with a glass stuck in it, was sure to meet mine; for whatever he was about, in the waltz, the quadrille, in a quiet two-handed flirtation (which, by the way, made the old hidalgos of Seville, who are not wont to tolerate such things, shrug their shoulders and elevate their eyebrows) in the middle of a tender speech, when handing fleur d'orange, restoring a fallen fan, or reclasping a bracelet, he seemed to watch all my proceedings with a species of amused interest--so that nothing passed between Paulina and me but the merest commonplaces.

"The moment so ardently wished for has arrived at last," thought I; "she is beside me, and I have not one word of interest for her."

"And you leave Seville to-morrow?" said she, to break an awkward pause.

"No, señora, in two days."

"A short visit--there are so many things to see here. There is the great tower of Cabildo with its enchanted weathercock, a Pallas with a standard which always indicates the quarter from which an enemy is approaching Seville."

"Ah--yes; I remember in the adventure of Don Quixotte with the Knight of the Wood, the latter boasts, that among other deeds done in honour of his mistress, he 'had challenged the famous fighting giantess, La Giralda of Seville, who is strong and undaunted as one who is made of brass.'"

"And who without changing place is the most inconstant woman in the world. Oh, Don Quixotte, he is charming! And then in Seville we have the letters of Francisco Pizzaro, of Columbus and the valiant Hernan Cortes; and more than all, we have the cathedral with its Puerta de Perdon, which was the work of a Moorish necromancer, and was all built by a spell between the night and morning. In two days you can never see all these things."

"Your own presence, Donna Paulina, is more than enough to detain me here for ever."

"Then why go so soon?" she asked, with her pretty Spanish lisp, while her long lashes drooped.

"Go I must, señora, for, being a soldier, I have nothing to urge; but----"

"But what?"

"The stern necessity of obedience."

"Ay de mi!" said she, gazing fully and honestly at me; "I am so sorry to hear all this."

"I am full of gratitude to hear you say so, señora; but there is no remedy."

"Señor," said she, smiling, "para todo hay remedio sino para la muerte."

"True, there is a remedy for everything but death, it is a good old Spanish proverb," said I; "but is not absence from those we love but a living death? so when I am far from Seville I shall have but the memory of one most beautiful face, and one bright happy night."

"Take this rose," said she, disengaging one from her bouquet; "it will be a memento, though a small one."

"Thanks, señora; but the rose will wither and fade."

"So will the memory of the beautiful face and the one happy night," said she, with a winning smile.

"Never, never Paulina--you are so charming--so gentle and so good, that----"

"Hush, Dios Mio! the people are observing us, and--but ave Maria purissima! what is the matter with my mother?"

During this brief conversation, the servant Pedrillo had delivered a note to Donna Dominga, who, on hurriedly glancing at its contents, uttered a faint cry and fell upon the sofa, where all the ladies crowded in an excited manner round her. Don Joaquim snatched up the letter and read it with flaming eyes.

"What, in Heaven's name, is the matter?" I asked, pressing forward.

"A letter has come from the captain of the guarda costa, stating that the son of Donna Dominga, his lieutenant, had been killed by a shot from the garrison of Gibraltar," said Slingsby, in a rapid whisper. "The absence of the captain general at Jaen prevented the Sevillanos from learning that the person slain was a townsman. I find we are in a mess here, and think we had better be off, my boy."

Though Spain had a post-office in those days when James III. of Scotland was fighting the battles of the people against his traitorous nobility, and when the brutal Henry of England was murdering his wives and burning Catholics and Protestants together at Smithfield, she has so far receded in the arts of peace that this unfortunate letter had been all these many weeks in finding its way from the sea port of Malaga to Seville.

Don Joaquim now said something to Paulina, who turned upon us with eyes full of grief and dismay.

"'T is my brother Hernan you have slain," she exclaimed, in tones that went through me like a sword; "O madre mia, madre mia! they have murdered our dear, dear Hernan!" and she threw herself beside her mother.

"Yes, señores," said Don Joaquim, folding up the letter with an air of sombre ferocity; "her accusation is right, you have heard her; 't is my brother Don Hernan who was killed by your accursed shot from the mole fort of Gibraltar,--Hernan, lieutenant of the guarda costa, and this letter is from his captain, detailing the circumstances of that outrage on the Spanish flag--an outrage of which I have heard so much since I left Portugal; but which I little thought--O Dios Mio! how little indeed, that it would bring such sorrow to my own house, and to hearts to me so dear. My poor boy brother, Hernan! So, señores, you it is, who were the perpetrators of this foul act? Fit men you were, and proper too, to detail it to our blockhead of a captain general, who was worshipping an old rag at Jaen, when he should have been seeking vengeance at Madrid. But look ye, señores, I'll have it, sure and deep, and as certainly as there is a saint in heaven, sure as my name is Joaquim de Lucena of the regiment of Lagos!"

"Mueran los gabachos--death to the miscreants!" growled a number of voices, and I laid a hand on my sword. It was a natural impulse.

The ladies clustered like a brood of terrified doves round Donna Dominga and her daughter; the gentlemen drew round her son; Slingsby and I were left together in the middle of the large saloon.

"A pleasant predicament this!" said Jack, shrugging his shoulders: "Ramble, I think we had better retire."

"To remain is useless, for these people are alike past listening to explanation or apology," I replied; and with an emotion of mortification and sorrow, which the reader may easily imagine, we took up our swords, made a profound bow to this ungracious company (none of whom responded), and quitted the house.

"Awful business this," said Jack, "is it not, Dick Ramble?--speak--have you lost your tongue?"

"A strange combination of unfortunate circumstances! To find ourselves the honoured guests of the very woman whose son we slew! In what light will Paulina view us, and Don Joaquim too?"

"As an officer he ought to be aware that we did but our duty," urged poor Jack, who felt himself the most guilty party; "but I did not half like the expression of his eyes as we left the saloon."

"How?"

"I read in them more of hatred and malice, than of horror for the event, or natural grief for his brother's fate."

"You think so?"

"I am sure of it!"

"Well, the man is a Spaniard."

"And being so, will not let us off easily."

"We shall have a message from him in the morning, challenging us both to fight, you think?" said I.

"Not at all; your Spaniards don't fight duels; he will lay some desperate snare for us between this and San Roque; so, depend upon it, the sooner we make ourselves scarce in Seville the better. But here is the hotel--for Heaven's sake let us have some iced champagne, for this horrid business has made me as thirsty as if I had crossed a whole county in the hottest hunting season."

I must own that though I was pretty well assured of the truth of Jack's surmises and suspicions, fear for my own safety was quite a secondary emotion to my sincere sorrow for the bereavement we had occasioned to poor old Donna Dominga and the lively Paulina. As for that stormy fellow Joaquim, I felt no compunction for him in the least; his grief was too noisy, and his sudden hostility too deep to leave much room for natural sorrow; and so, while surmising, considering, revolving, and talking the matter threadbare, we finished several bottles of champagne; through the medium of these we easily came to the conclusion that we were the most injured parties; that we had been grossly insulted somehow, over night--that the usual satisfaction was necessary; and then we retired to bed in a state of just and proper indignation at the malevolent threats of Don Joaquim and his friends, to whom the affair formed a notable subject for discussion at those morning meetings, which are so dearly prized by the Spaniards, who then debate everything from a ballet girl's ancle to a rising in Catalonia; and for these gossips, the place of rendezvous in Seville is the Plaza de San Domingo.