Part 9 (1/2)

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 wors.h.i.+p ever held in the stately old mansion. Alcala, who for the first time since his illness had quitted his couch, sat propped up with cus.h.i.+ons. 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 wors.h.i.+p 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 hards.h.i.+p, 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.