Part 19 (1/2)

”I ought to know her inmost heart, son, for often have I listened to her pure and meek spirit, in the secrets of the confessional. Much as she is beloved by us Castilians, no one can know the true, spiritual elevation of that pious princess, and most excellent woman, but they who have had occasion to shrive her.”

Don Luis hemmed, played with the handle of his rapier, and then gave utterance to the uppermost thought, as usual.

”Didst thou, by any chance of thy priestly office, father, ever find it necessary to confess a maiden of the court, who is much esteemed by the queen?” he inquired, ”and whose spirit, I'll answer for it, is as pure as that of Dona Isabella's itself.”

”Son, thy question denoteth greater necessity for repairing to Salamanca, in order to be instructed in the history, and practices, and faith of the church, than to be entering into an enterprise, even as commendable as this of Colon's! Dost thou not know that we churchmen are not permitted to betray the secrets of the confessional, or to draw comparisons between penitents? and, moreover, that we do not take even Dona Isabella, the blessed Maria keep her ever in mind, as the standard of holiness to which all Christians are expected to aim? The maiden of whom thou speakest may be virtuous, according to worldly notions, and yet a grievous sinner in the eyes of mother church.”

”I should like, before I quit Spain, to hear a Mendoza, or a Guzman, who hath not a shaven crown, venture to hint as much, most reverend prior!”

”Thou art hot and restive, and talkest idly, son; what would one like thee find to say to a Guzman, or a Mendoza, or a Bobadilla, even, did he affirm what thou wishest? But, who is the maid, in whom thy feelings seem to take so deep, although I question if it be not an unrequited, interest?”

”Nay, I did but speak in idleness. Our stations have made such a chasm between us, that it is little likely we should ever come to speech; nor is my merit such as would be apt to cause her to forget her high advantages.”

”Still, she hath a name?”

”She hath, truly, prior, and a right n.o.ble one it is. I had the Dona Maria de las Mercedes de Valverde in my thoughts, when the light remark found utterance. Haply, thou may'st know that ill.u.s.trious heiress?”

Fray Juan Perez, a truly guileless priest, started at the name; then he gazed intently, and with a sort of pity, at the youth; after which he bent his head toward the tiles beneath his feet, smiled, and shook his head like one whose thoughts were very active.

”I do, indeed, know the lady,” he said, ”and even when last at court, on this errand of Colon's, their own confessor being ill, I shrived her, as well as my royal mistress. That she is worthy of Dona Isabella's esteem is true; but thy admiration for this n.o.ble maiden, which must be something like the distant reverence we feel for the clouds that sail above our heads, can scarce be founded on any rational hopes.”

”Thou canst not know that, father. If this expedition end as we trust, all who engage in it will be honored and advanced; and why not I, as well as another?”

”In this, thou may'st utter truth, but as for the Dona--” The Franciscan checked himself, for he was about to betray the secret of the confessional. He had, in truth, listened to the contrition of Mercedes, of which her pa.s.sion for Luis was the princ.i.p.al cause; and it was he who, with a species of pious fraud of which he was himself unconscious, had first pointed out the means by which the truant n.o.ble might be made to turn his propensity to rove to the profit of his love; and his mind was full of her beautiful exhibition of purity and natural feeling, nearly even to overflowing. But habit and duty interfered in time, and he did not utter the name that had been trembling on his lips. Still, his thoughts continued in this current, and his tongue gave utterance to that portion of them which he believed to be harmless. ”Thou hast been much about the world, it would seem, by Master Alonzo's greeting,” he continued, after a short pause; ”didst ever meet, son, with a certain cavalier of Castile, named Don Luis de Bobadilla--a grandee, who also bears the t.i.tle of Conde de Llera?”

”I know little of his hopes, and care less for his t.i.tles,” returned Luis, calmly, who thought he would manifest a magnanimous indifference to the Franciscan's opinions--”but I have seen the cavalier, and a roving, mad-brained, graceless youth it is, of whom no good can be expected.”

”I fear this is but too true,” rejoined Fray Juan Perez, shaking his head in a melancholy manner--”and yet they say he is a gallant knight, and the very best lance in all Spain.”

”Ay, he may be that,” answered Luis, hemming a little louder than was decorous, for his throat began to grow husky--”Ay, he may be that; but of what avail is a good lance without a good character. I hear little commendable of this young Conde de Llera.”

”I trust he is not the man he generally pa.s.seth for,”--answered the simple-hearted monk, without in the least suspecting his companion's disguise; ”and I do know that there are some who think well of him--nay, whose existence, I might say whose very souls, are wrapped up in him!”

”Holy Franciscan!--why wilt thou not mention the names of one or two of these?” demanded Luis, with an impetuosity that caused the prior to start.

”And why should I give this information to thee, young man, more than to another?”

”Why, father--why, for several most excellent and unanswerable reasons.

In the first place, I am a youth myself, as thou seest; and example, they say, is better than precept. Then, too, _I_ am somewhat given to roving, and it may profit me to know how others of the same propensity have sped. Moreover, it would gladden my inmost heart to hear that--but two sufficient reasons are better than three, and thou hast the first number already.”

Fray Juan Perez, a devout Christian, a learned churchman, and a liberal scholar, was as simple as a child in matters that related to the world and its pa.s.sions. Nevertheless, he was not so dull as to overlook the strange deportment and stranger language of his companion. A direction had been given to his thoughts by the mention of the name of our heroine; and, as he himself had devised the very course taken by our hero, the truth began to dawn on his imagination.

”Young cavalier,” he exclaimed, ”thou art Don Luis de Bobadilla!”

”I shall never deny the prophetic knowledge of a churchman, worthy father, after this detection! I _am_ he thou sayest, entered on this expedition to win the love of Mercedes de Valverde.”

”'Tis as I thought--and yet, Senor, you might have taken our poor convent less at an advantage. Suffer that I command the lay brothers to place refreshments before you!”

”Thy pardon, excellent prior--Pedro de Munos, or even Pero Gutierrez, hath no need of food; but, now that thou knowest me, there can be less reason for not conversing of the Dona Mercedes?”