Part 56 (2/2)

Still the sick and weary never left its gates unaided; and they shall not begin now--not now. I pray you come with me to the house, and refresh and rest yourself there.”

Juan was not reckless enough to refuse what in truth he sorely needed.

He entered the monastery under the guidance of poor old Fray Bernardo, who had been pa.s.sed by, perhaps in scorn, by the persecutors: and so, after all, he had his wish--he should die and be buried in peace where he had pa.s.sed his life from boyhood to extreme old age. Yet there was something sad in the thought that the storm that swept by had left untouched the poor, useless, half-withered tree, while it tore down the young and strong and n.o.ble oaks, the pride of the now desolated forest.

The few cowed and terrified monks who had been allowed to remain in the convent received Don Juan with great kindness. They set food and wine before him: food he could not touch, but wine he accepted with thankfulness. And they almost insisted on his endeavouring to take some rest; a.s.suring him that when his servant and horses should arrive, they would see them properly cared for, until such time as he might be able to resume his journey.

His journey would not brook delay, as he knew full well. That his young wife might not be a widow and his babe an orphan, he ”charged his soul to hold his body strengthened” for the work that both had to do. Back to Nuera for these dear ones as swiftly as the fleetest horses would bear him, then to Seville again, and on board the first s.h.i.+p he could meet with bound for any foreign port,--would the term of grace a.s.signed him by the Inquisitor suffice for all this? Certainly not a moment should be lost.

”I will rest for an hour,” he said. ”But I pray you, my fathers, do me one kindness first. Is there a man here who witnessed--what was done yesterday?”

A young monk came forward. Juan led him into the cell which had been prepared for him to rest in, and leaning against its little window, with his face turned away, he murmured one agitated question. Three words comprised the answer,--

”_Calmly, silently, quickly._”

Juan's breast heaved and his strong frame trembled. After a long interval he said, still without looking,--

”Now tell me of the others. Name him no more.”

”No less than _eight_ ladies died the martyr's death,” said the monk, who cared not, before _this_ auditor, to conceal his own sentiments.

”One of them was Senora Maria Gomez; your Excellency probably knows her story. Her three daughters and her sister died with her. When their sentences were read, they embraced on the scaffold, and bade each other farewell with tears. Then they comforted each other with holy words about our Lord and his pa.s.sion, and the home he was preparing for them above.”

Here the young monk paused for a few moments; then went on, his voice still trembling: ”There were, moreover, two Englishmen and a Frenchman, who all died bravely. Lastly, there was Juliano Hernandez.”

”Ah! tell me of him.”

”He died as he had lived. In the morning, when brought out into the court of the Triana, he cried aloud to his fellow-sufferers,--'Courage, comrades! Now must we show ourselves valiant soldiers of Jesus Christ.

Let us bear faithful testimony to his truth before men, and in a few hours we shall receive the testimony of his approbation before angels, and triumph with him in heaven.' Though silenced, he continued throughout the day to encourage his companions by his gestures. On the Quemadero, he knelt down and kissed the stone upon which the stake was erected; then thrust his head among the f.a.gots to show his willingness to suffer. But at the end, having raised his hands in prayer, one of the attendant priests--Dr. Rodriguez--mistook the att.i.tude for a sign that he would recant, and made intercession with the Alguazils to give him a last opportunity of speaking. He confessed his faith in a few strong, brief words; and knowing the character of Rodriguez, told him he thought the same himself, but hid his true belief out of fear. The angry priest bade them light the pile at once. It was done; but the guards, with kind cruelty, thrust the martyr through with their lances, so that he pa.s.sed, without much pain, into the presence of the Lord whom he served as few have been honoured to do.”

”And--Fray Constantino?” Juan questioned.

”He was not, for G.o.d took him. They had only his dust to burn. They have sought to slander his memory, saying he raised his hand against his own life. But we knew the contrary. It has reached our ears--I dare not tell you how--that he died in the arms of one of our dear brethren from this place--poor young Fray Fernando, who closed his eyes in peace.

It was from one of the dark underground cells of the Triana that he pa.s.sed straight to the glory of G.o.d.”[#]

[#] At the Auto they produced his effigy, of the size of life, clad in his canon's robe, and with the arms stretched out in the gesture he had been wont to use in preaching; but it caused such a demonstration of feeling among the people, that they were obliged hastily to withdraw it.

It was at this Auto that Maria Gonsalez was sentenced to receive two hundred lashes, and to be imprisoned for ten years, for the kindnesses she had shown the prisoners. An equally severe punishment was awarded to the under-gaoler Herrera for the offence of having allowed a mother and three daughters, who were imprisoned in separate cells, an interview of half an hour; while the many cruelties and peculations of the infamous Benevidio were only chastised by the loss of his situation and lit advantages, and banishment from Seville.

”I thank you for your tidings,” said Juan, slowly and faintly. ”And now I pray of you to leave me.”

After a considerable time, one of the monks softly opened the door of their visitor's cell. He sat on the pallet prepared for him, his head buried in his hands.

”Senor,” said the monk, ”your servant has arrived, and begs you to excuse his delay. It may be there are some instructions you wish him to receive.”

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