Part 46 (1/2)
”How long in thralldom's grasp I lay I knew not; for my soul was black, And knew no change of night or day.”--Campbell.
Carlos was sleeping tranquilly in his dungeon on the following night, when the opening of the door aroused him. He started with sickening dread, the horrors of the torture-room rising in an instant before his imagination. Benevidio entered, followed by Herrera, and commanded him to rise and dress immediately. Long experience of the Santa Casa had taught him that he might as well make an inquiry of its doors and walls as of any of its officials. So he obeyed in silence, and slowly and painfully enough. But he was soon relieved from his worst fear by seeing Herrera fold together the few articles of clothing he had been allowed to have with him, preparatory to carrying them away. ”It is only, then, a change of prison,” he thought; ”and wherever they bring me, heaven will be equally near.”
His limbs, enfeebled by two years of close confinement, and lame from the effects of one terrible night, were sorely tried by what he thought an almost interminable walk through corridors and down narrow winding stairs. But at last he was conducted to a small postern door, which, greatly to his surprise, Benevidio proceeded to unlock. The kind-hearted Herrera took advantage of the moment when Benevidio was thus occupied to whisper,--
”We are bringing you to the Dominican prison, senor; you will be better used there.”
Carlos thanked him by a grateful look and a pressure of the hand. But an instant afterwards he had forgotten his words. He had forgotten everything save that he stood once more in G.o.d's free air, and that G.o.d's own boundless heaven, spangled with ten thousand stars, was over him, no dungeon roof between. For one rapturous moment he gazed upwards, thanking G.o.d in his heart. But the fresh air he breathed seemed to intoxicate him like strong wine. He grew faint, and leaned for support on Herrera.
”Courage, senor; it is not far--only a few paces,” said the under-gaoler, kindly.
Weak as he was, Carlos wished the distance a hundred times greater. But it proved quite long enough for his strength. By the time he was delivered over into the keeping of a couple of lay brothers, and locked by them into a cell in the Dominican monastery, he was scarcely conscious of anything save excessive fatigue.
The next morning was pretty far advanced before any one came to him; but at last he was honoured with a visit from the prior himself. He said frankly, and with perfect truth,--
”I am glad to find myself in your hands, my lord.”
To one accustomed to feel himself an object of terror, it is a new and pleasant sensation to be trusted. Even a wild beast will sometimes spare the weak but fearless creature that ventures to play with it: and Don Fray Ricardo was not a wild beast; he was only a stern, narrow, conscientious man, the willing and efficient agent of a terrible system.
His brow relaxed visibly as he said,--
”I have always sought your true good, my son.”
”I am well aware of it, father.”
”And you must acknowledge,” the prior resumed, ”that great forbearance and lenity have been shown towards you. But your infatuation has been such that you have deliberately and persistently sought your own ruin.
You have resisted the wisest arguments, the gentlest persuasions, and that with an obstinacy which time and discipline seem only to increase.
And now at last, as another Auto-da-fe may not be celebrated for some time, my Lord Vice-Inquisitor-General, justly incensed at your contumacy, would fain have thrown you into one of the underground dungeons, where, believe me, you would not live a month. But I have interceded for you.”
”I thank your kindness, my lord. But I cannot see that it matters much how you deal with me now. Sooner or later, in one form or other, it must be death; and I thank G.o.d it can be no more.”
While a man might count twenty, the prior looked silently in that steadfast sorrowful young face. Then he said,--
”My son, do not yield to despair; for I come to thee this day with a message of hope. I have also made intercession for thee with the Supreme Council of the Holy Office; and I have succeeded in obtaining from that august tribunal a great and unusual grace.”
Carlos looked up, a sudden flush on his cheek. He hoped this unusual grace might be permission to see some familiar face ere he died; but the prior's next words disappointed him. Alas! it was only the offer of escape from death on terms that he might not accept. And yet such an offer really deserved the name the prior gave it--a great and unusual grace. For, as has been already intimated, by the laws of the Inquisition at that time in force, the man who had _once_ professed heretical doctrines, however sincerely he might have retracted them, was doomed to die. His penitence would procure him the favour of absolution--the mercy of the garotte instead of the stake; that was all.
The prior went on to explain to Carlos, that upon the ground of his youth, and the supposition that he had been led into error by others, his judges had consented to show him singular favour. ”Moreover,” he added, ”there are other reasons for this course of action, upon which it would be needless, and might be inexpedient, to enter at present; but they have their weight, especially with me. For the preservation, therefore, both of your soul and your body--upon which I take more compa.s.sion than you do yourself--I have, in the first place, obtained permission to remove you to a more easy and more healthful confinement, where, besides other favours, you will enjoy the great privilege of a companion, constant intercourse with whom can scarcely fail to benefit you.”
Carlos thought this last a doubtful boon; but as it was kindly intended, he was bound to be grateful. He thanked the prior accordingly; adding, ”May I be permitted to ask the name of this companion?”
”You will probably find out ere long, if you conduct yourself so as to deserve it,”--an answer Carlos found so enigmatical, that after several vain endeavours to comprehend it, he gave up the task in despair, and not without some apprehension that his long imprisonment had dulled his perceptions. ”Amongst us he is called Don Juan,” the prior continued.
”And this much I will tell you. He is a very honourable person, who had many years ago the great misfortune to be led astray by the same errors to which you cling with such obstinacy. G.o.d was pleased, however, to make use of my poor instrumentality to lead him back to the bosom of the Church. He is now a true and sincere penitent, diligent in prayer and penance, and heartily detesting his former evil ways. It is my last hope for you that his wise and faithful counsels may bring you to the same mind.”
Carlos did not particularly like the prospect. He feared that this vaunted penitent would prove a noisy apostate, who would seek to obtain the favour of the monks by vilifying his former a.s.sociates. Nor, on the other hand, did he think it honest to accept without protest kindnesses offered him on the supposition that he might even yet be induced to recant. He said,--
”I ought to tell you, senor, that my mind will never change, G.o.d helping me. Rather than lead you to imagine otherwise, I would go at once to the darkest cell in the Triana. My faith is based on the Word of G.o.d, which can never be overthrown.”
”The penitent of whom I speak used such words as these, until G.o.d and Our Lady opened his eyes. Now he sees all things differently. So will you, if G.o.d is pleased to give you the inestimable benefit of his divine grace; for it is not of him that willeth, nor of him that runneth, but of G.o.d that showeth mercy,” said the Dominican, who, like others of his order, ingeniously managed to combine strong predestinarian theories with the creed of Rome.