Part 33 (1/2)
They turned into the path he indicated, while the Lord Inquisitor's silken train swept towards that half of the Triana where G.o.dless luxury bore sway; the other half being consecrated to the twin demon, cruelty.
”Will it please your wors.h.i.+p to look at these Indian pinks?” said the friar. ”You will not see that flower elsewhere in all the Spains, save in the royal gardens. His Imperial Majesty brought it first from Tunis.”
Juan all but cursed the innocent flowers; but recollected in time that G.o.d made them, though they belonged to Gonzales de Munebrga. ”In Heaven's name, what brings you here, Fray Sebastian?” he interrupted impatiently. ”I thought to see only the black cowls of St. Dominic about the--the minister of the Holy Office.”
”A little more softly, may I implore of your Excellency? Yonder cas.e.m.e.nt is open.--Pues,[#] senor, I am here in the capacity of a guest. Nothing more.”
[#] Well, or well thou.
”Every man to his taste,” said Juan, drily, as with a heedless foot he kicked off the beautiful scarlet flower of a rare cactus.
”Have a care, senor and your Excellency; my lord is very proud of his cactus flowers.”
”Then come with me to some spot of G.o.d's free earth where we can talk together, out of sight of him and his possessions.”
”Nay, rest content, senor; and untire yourself in this fair arbour overlooking the river.”
”At least, G.o.d made the river,” said Juan, flinging himself, with a sigh of irritation and impatience, on the cus.h.i.+oned seat of the summer-house.
Fray Sebastian seated himself also. ”My lord,” he began to explain, ”has received me with all courtesy, and is good enough to desire my continual attendance. The fact is, senor, his reverence is a man of literary taste.”
Juan allowed himself the solace of a quiet sneer. ”Oh, is he? Very creditable to him, no doubt.”
”Especially he is a great lover of the divine art of poesy.”
No _genuine_ love of the gentle art, whose great lesson is sympathy, did or could soften the Inquisitor's hard heart. Nor, had his wealth been doubled, could he have hired one real poet to sing his praise in strains worthy the ear of posterity. In an atmosphere so cold, the most ethereal spirit would have frozen. But it was in his power to buy flattery in rhyme, and it suited his inclination so to do. He liked the trick of rhyme, at once so easy and so charming in the sonorous Castilian tongue--it was a pleasure of the ear which he keenly appreciated, as he did also those of the eye and the palate.
”I addressed to him,” Fray Sebastian continued with becoming modesty, ”a little effort of my Muse--really a mere trifle--on the suppression of heresy, comparing the Lord Inquisitor to Michael the archangel, with the dragon beneath his feet. You understand, senor?”
Juan understood so well that it was with difficulty he refrained from flinging the unlucky rhymester into the river. But of late he had learned many a lesson in prudence. Still, his words sounded almost fierce in their angry scorn. ”I suppose he gave you in return--a good dinner.”
But Fray Sebastian would not take offence. He answered mildly, ”He was pleased to express his approval of my humble effort, and to admit me into his n.o.ble household; where, except my poor exertions to amuse and untire him by my conversation may be accounted a service, I am of no service to him whatever.”
”So you are clad in purple and fine linen, and fare sumptuously every day,” said Juan, with contempt that he cared not to conceal.
”As to purple and fine linen, senor, I am an unworthy son of St.
Francis; and it is well known to your Excellency that by the rules of our Order not even one sc.r.a.p of holland---- But you are laughing at me, as you used in old times, Senor Don Juan.”
”G.o.d knows, I have little heart to laugh. In those old times you speak of, Fray, there was no great love between you and me; and no marvel, for I was a wild and idle lad. But I think you loved my gentle brother, Don Carlos!”
”That I did, senor, as did every one. Has any evil come upon him? St.
Francis forbid!”
”Worse evil than I care to name. He lies in yonder tower.”
”The blessed Virgin have pity on us!” cried Fray Sebastian, crossing himself.
”I thought you would have heard of his arrest,” Juan continued, sadly.
”I, senor! Never a breath. Holy Saints defend us! How could I, or any one, dream that a young gentleman of n.o.blest race, well learned, and of truly pious disposition, would have had the ill luck to fall under so foul a suspicion? Doubtless it is the work of some personal enemy.