The Spanish Cavalier Part 9

Insolent as Teresa often showed herself to her gentle mistress, the old retainer stood in awe of her master; and though she might murmur to herself at his commands, she never dared openly to dispute them.

Both she and Chico were therefore present at the first meeting for Bible reading and family worship ever held in the stately old mansion. Alcala, who for the first time since his illness had quitted his couch, sat propped up with cushions. He looked pale and fragile, but serenely happy, as he read aloud a portion from one of the Gospels. The portion was necessarily short, for the reader was still very weak. Small as was the audience--for no stranger was present--it yet represented a variety of hearers. Inez, with her hands clasped, and her soft eyes fixed on the reader, listened to the words of Holy Writ with reverential attention; Teresa, with scarcely concealed repugnance; Chico could hardly be said to listen at all. The uncouth attendant's thoughts were distracted by the strange novelty of his being permitted, nay, ordered, to be seated in the presence of the caballero, Don Alcala de Aguilera,--a novelty which disgusted Teresa more than anything else in the service.

"A low fellow like that to be treated as if his wretched soul were worth as much as that of a grandee of Spain!" thought Teresa. "My master's illness must have affected his brain, or he would sooner have made a footstool of Chico than have bidden him sit down in his presence!" To her mind such an extraordinary breach of etiquette on the part of a hidalgo of Andalusia was much more strange and unaccountable than his late exposure of his life to satisfy a wild notion of honour.

Alcala was thankful that he had been strengthened to take the first decided step in the course of service which he hoped through life to pursue. He closed his Bible reading with a brief extempore prayer, of which the fervour touched the spirit of Inez, and the humility astonished that of Teresa. What cavalier had ever before prayed so earnestly to be delivered from the power of pride!

With gloomy forebodings the duenna retired from Alcala's apartment after family worship was ended. Often during the following night, as she uneasily turned on her pallet-bed, Teresa moaned her complaint that times were evil indeed, when n.o.ble pride could be deemed a sin in the heir of the honours of the Aguileras!

Happy were the slumbers of Alcala. He dreamed that night that he was again mounted on his steed in the Plaza de Toros, in the centre of the circus, and surrounded by gazing thousands. But when the door of the circus was flung open by the black-robed alguazil to whom that service belongs, it was no fierce animal that rushed forth to encounter the point of Alcala's lance. There came into the arena a procession of priests, monks, and devotees, bearing aloft graven images of saints, and swinging censers of incense, as they slowly approached him. Then, in his dream, Alcala glanced around, and, lo! instead of the usual spectators who were wont to throng the seats in the Coliseo of Seville, the places were filled by thousands of martyrs who, in that city, had pa.s.sed through the ordeal of fire. They wore no longer the yellow san-benito, the garb of shame, but robes compared to whose whiteness dim were the diamond and dark the new-fallen snow. The martyrs were "a cloud of witnesses," a cloud sparkling in the light of the countenance of Him for whom they had suffered,--a cloud reflecting His ineffable glory.

When the hour of persecution and trial arrived, Alcala drew courage and hope from the recollection of that glorious dream.

FOOTNOTES:

[16] F. Tucker.

[17] Isabella's confessor, and a nun who had great influence with the queen.

CHAPTER XVI.

A MIRAGE.

Inez de Aguilera always shared the sleeping-room of her grandmother, and had often to minister during the night to the aged and imbecile lady. It had never occurred to the Spanish girl to regard this duty as a hardship, but she had never felt such sweet pleasure in its performance as she did after listening to the words of her Heavenly Master which had been read aloud by Alcala. He who had said, "_Love one another as I have loved you_," would, Inez hoped, be pleased with her care of the aged relative whom He had intrusted to her charge.

A trial to those who attended on Donna Benita was the poor old lady's inability to understand the change in the circ.u.mstances of her family; she who had come as a wealthy bride to a wealthy hidalgo, sorely missed, and never ceased to expect, the luxuries connected with the possession of riches. If Donna Benita desired to breathe the air in the Prado, how was it that carriages with splendid horses were not ready at her command? Where was the train of attendants that should wait on the lady of a Spanish grandee? What had become of her jewels, her bracelets of diamonds, her chaplet of pearls? Old Teresa lost patience when she had to repeat for the hundredth time to her imbecile mistress that her treasures had all been carried off, nearly fifty years before, by the infidel French soldiers, who had dared to eat their puchero and smoke their cigarillos in the patio of the palace of the Aguileras.

Inez never lost her patience with the feeble invalid, but she was pained when, on the morning following Alcala's first meeting for family devotion, Donna Benita more fretfully than usual complained of the want of the luxuries which her grandchildren had not the means of providing.

"How I am neglected by all of you!" murmured the aged lady. "Have I not told you these many times to bring me my goblet of chased gold, filled with good Xeres wine? Where is it--why do you keep it from me?

There is no one to do my bidding,--no one cares to bring me the delicate panada which is, as you know, my favourite dish. I am tired of chocolate, and toast, and watery puchero! Every day seems a fast-day here!"

"You shall have something nice, very nice, to-day, dear grandmother,"

said Inez, respectfully kissing the old lady's hand. "Teresa yesterday brought home from the market a splendid basketful of good things." And Inez glided out of the room, asking herself as she did so, "When shall we find means of so filling that basket again?"

The kitchen, which was situated at the remotest part of the mansion of the Aguileras, was very s.p.a.cious, and from its emptiness now appeared very dreary. There were scarcely as many utensils left in the place as would have supplied the tent of a wandering Gitano. And yet in that kitchen, in former days, banquets had been prepared to furnish a table at which a hundred guests had sat down.

Teresa's bent, withered form was stooping over the fire, which, like the inmates of the mansion, was very scantily fed. The step of Inez was so light that the old woman did not hear it, and she was not aware that the senorita was at her side, when she flung on the f.a.gots a small bound volume. Inez darted forward, with an exclamation of indignation, just in time to s.n.a.t.c.h unharmed from the fire the New Testament of her brother.

"Why do you presume to burn the treasured book of Don Alcala?"

exclaimed the maiden, pressing the volume to her breast.

"To save Don Alcala's life!" replied Teresa, raising her head with angry surprise. "Did you not hear the threats of Father Bonifacio; have you not been told of the warning sent out by our priests against those who 'infest Catholic Seville with Bibles and _other pernicious books_'?[18] Are you so ignorant, senorita, as to suppose that Scripture readings can be safely carried on in a Christian country like this?" Each question was asked in a tone more loud and shrill than the last. "Every hour I am expecting the alguazils[19] to search this house, this house polluted with heresy. Woe to Don Alcala de Aguilera if that fatal book be found within it! He will be dragged out of his bed, thrust into some loathsome prison which he will never quit till his carca.s.s be thrust forth to be flung like carrion into some ditch! I'll not see it--I'll not see it," continued the old retainer with a gesture of pa.s.sionate grief; "Teresa's hand shall not be the one to open the gate of this palace to those who come to arrest its master! There's a _gran foncion_ to-day in honour of my patroness, Santa Teresa; I will go and join the procession, and try if my prayers cannot move the saint to save Don Alcala from the ruin which he is bringing on himself and his house!"

Away hurried Teresa, leaving her young lady to do her work and think over her warning.

The first occupation was easy enough: Inez had often prepared her grandmother's meals. But while her slender fingers did their office, the mind of the poor girl was painfully revolving the words of Teresa.

Might they not be only too true--might not Alcala have actually placed himself within reach of the grasp of the law? Inez was constantly turning in terror to listen for sounds that might announce the coming of alguazils to seize on her brother, and search the house. The horrors of a Spanish prison to a gentleman of refinement, who had not yet recovered from the effects of a wound, and who was too poor to bribe his jailers, might actually realize the picture drawn by Teresa.

The heart of Inez sank within her.

While Donna Benita was partaking of food so delicately prepared by her grand-daughter, that not even the old lady's weak, fretful mind could find in it subject for complaint, Inez was planning a little scheme for Alcala's safety, in case a search-warrant should be issued.

"The Book must not be found in this house, at least not in my brother's possession," thought Inez. "I will not destroy, but I will conceal it. I will carefully wrap up the volume, and then bury it deep, very deep, in the earth under the orange-trees which grow round the fountain; no one will look for it there, and I will take it up again when the danger is over. Alcala will spare it for a few days when I tell him why I have buried the Book. He will miss it the less since he knows, I believe, half of its contents by heart already."

It seemed a long time to Inez before Donna Benita concluded her tedious repast; a long time before her grand-daughter could beat up her pillow, shut out the daylight, and leave the old lady to enjoy the siesta which always followed her morning meal.

Inez then hurriedly proceeded to the patio, and took, from a recess in which she kept her few garden utensils, a spud with which she was wont to weed her parterre. She noticed that her plants looked less flourishing than they had done before her brother's illness; no one had cared to water or tend them, and many a shrivelled leaf showed the lack of a mistress's care. "Alcala must not find them thus," thought Inez; "my chief joy in my garden comes from knowing that it gives pleasure to him."

In haste to accomplish the work of burying the volume during the absence of Teresa, Inez knelt down, and with her imperfect instrument began to dig a hole in the earth which surrounded the fountain. The maiden found the task more difficult than she had expected. The sod was dry and hard; Inez had to bring water to saturate the earth before she could make much impression upon it.

"A little deeper,--it will be safer to make the hole a little deeper,"

said Inez to herself, when she paused to take breath after labour which the heat of the day made oppressive. The lady took up her garden utensil again, and struck it, not down into deeper earth, but against something hard which returned a metallic clink to the stroke.

"What can be here?" exclaimed the maiden. She removed more of the earth, till a small pile of it was deposited on either side of the hole which she had been digging. A little more sc.r.a.ping then revealed to her view, as she bent over the opening, something like a wooden box with a handle of metal. Stooping yet lower,--she was still on her knees,--Inez took hold of the handle, and with an effort of her utmost strength attempted to draw out the box; but she was unable even to stir it.

"Can I help the senorita?" said Chico, who had been attracted to the patio by the slight but unusual noise made by Inez when digging out the earth. Since the death of poor Campeador, the bandy-legged groom had found more time for idling about.

Inez started at the unexpected voice, threw back the long hair which had fallen over her brow as she had stooped and laboured, and rose from her kneeling position. Her first feeling was that of annoyance at the intrusion of Chico; but as she was unable to accomplish her object without a.s.sistance, she accepted the offer of his aid. The young lady stood on the marble pavement watching while Chico, with considerable labour and difficulty, disengaged the box from the earth in which it had lain embedded, and, lifting it out of the hole, laid it heavily down at her feet.

The box was not so large as an ordinary desk, but exceedingly heavy in proportion to its size. It appeared to be made of walnut wood, with hinges, lock, and handle of steel, and it was clamped with broad bands of the same metal. But for many, many years that box had lain under the earth, and now the steel was rusted, the wood was rotten. The lock, indeed, was a good one still, but the hinges were eaten away with rust, and had no power to resist the strong wrench with which Chico, ere Inez could prevent him, tore off the lid of the box.

The sight of its contents, thus laid bare to the view, made Inez open wide her dark eyes with surprise. The box was a little treasury in itself, holding wealth packed up in the most portable shape. Rouleaus of gold pieces, cases of jewels, a golden goblet filled with chains, coins, snuff-boxes, all of the same precious metal, appeared before the eyes of the wondering girl.

"Move nothing--touch nothing!" cried Inez to Chico, who, on his knees, was gloating open-mouthed over the treasure, and about to lift the goblet out of the box to explore what lay beneath it. "The Senor Don Alcala must be the first to examine what is within."

Chico took out a piece of parchment and held it up to Inez, who read on it the following words:--"_I, Don Pedro de Aguilera, before leaving Seville to join the army, being apprehensive that the French may one day possibly occupy this city, do bury this casket containing my wife's most valuable jewels, and a portion of my family plate, 1810._"

"Heaven has sent help to us in our utmost need!" exclaimed Inez, clasping her hands, and looking upwards with grateful joy.

But wealth is wont to bring care, and Inez had no sooner obtained possession of the family treasure than she began uneasily to revolve in her mind how she could best secure it. Her first impulse was to bid Chico carry it at once to her brother's apartment, and place it under the care of Alcala. But a moment's reflection made Inez doubt the expediency of this course.

"Alcala is in peril already," thought Inez; "should I not greatly add to his danger by placing in his room, which has not even a key to its lock, a treasure like this? If the discovery of these rich jewels and pieces of gold were bruited abroad in Seville, it would arouse the cupidity of all the ruffians with whom this city abounds! My Alcala might be murdered as well as robbed! Would I not act more wisely if I buried the treasure again, only taking out, time by time, a few pieces of money to supply our immediate need?"

Inez glanced down at Chico, who, in spite of her prohibition, seemed unable to resist the temptation of fingering the gold with his coa.r.s.e, dirty hands. "I dare not trust Chico," thought Inez, in sore perplexity; "if the treasure were buried, he at least would know the secret, and there would be nothing to hinder him from abstracting whatever he pleased from the box. I hope, I think that he is honest; but the temptation might prove too great. The gold must be kept under lock and key,--where can I place it in safety?" Inez raised her hand to her brow, and reflected for several moments. It was so new a thing to the maiden to be burdened with the care of riches! Presently an expression of satisfaction came to the anxious young face.

"There is the armoury," thought Inez; "the door is strong, and the lock is good. We will shut up the box within it, and give Alcala the key."

The place which was called the armoury, from weapons and ammunition having once been kept there, was little more than a deep recess in the wall which enclosed the patio, closed in by a low strong door, which had been so constructed as to attract little notice from without. A stranger might have resided for months in the house of the Aguileras, and have spent hours every day in the patio, without ever observing that there was a door near to the ornamental grating--indeed, under its shadow whenever the grating was thrown back. The small key of the armoury had been left in the lock, for there had been no need to use it, the place had been for many years empty of all but dust and rubbish. There could be no better place in which to secure the treasure.

"Chico," said Inez to her servant, who was still on his knees, fumbling the gold, "mention to no one--not even to Teresa--the finding of this box. You shall be well rewarded for your fidelity and your silence. Now bear the box to the armoury yonder; I will first lock it up there, and then take the key to Don Alcala, and tell him what I have done."

Inez glided across the patio, glad that the grating was closed, so that no stranger from the street could possibly see what was pa.s.sing within. Followed by Chico carrying the box, the lady reached the armoury, opened the door, and tried the lock.

"Place the box there," said the maiden, pointing to the inmost corner of the recess, close to the door of which she was standing.

Chico, instead of obeying, set down the heavy box on the pavement, and then, by a movement so sudden that it took Inez completely by surprise, he pushed the lady into the armoury, shut the door, and locked it upon her!