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Spanish Cavalier

<h2>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> <h3>A MIRAGE.</h3> <div class="drop"> <ANTIMG src="images/i.jpg" width-obs="100" height-obs="100" alt="I" class="cap" /> 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 hardship, 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. </div> A trial to those who attended on Donna Benita was the poor old lady's inability to understand the change in the circumstances 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[Pg 133] 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!"[Pg 134] "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 spacious, 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 señorita was at her side, when she flung on the fagots a small bound volume. Inez darted forward, with an exclamation of indignation, just in time to snatch 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.[Pg 135] "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, señorita, 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 carcass 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 passionate 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!" [Pg 136] 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. The heart of Inez sank within her. While Donna Benita was partaking of food so delicately prepared by her grand-daughter, that not even the old lady's weak, fretful mind could find in it subject for complaint, Inez was planning a little scheme for Alcala's safety, in case a search-warrant should be issued. "The Book must not be found in this house, at least not in my brother's possession," thought Inez. "I will not destroy, but I will conceal it. I will carefully wrap up the volume, and then bury it deep,[Pg 137] very deep, in the earth under the orange-trees which grow round the fountain; no one will look for it there, and I will take it up again when the danger is over. Alcala will spare it for a few days when I tell him why I have buried the Book. He will miss it the less since he knows, I believe, half of its contents by heart already." It seemed a long time to Inez before Donna Benita concluded her tedious repast; a long time before her grand-daughter could beat up her pillow, shut out the daylight, and leave the old lady to enjoy the siesta which always followed her morning meal. Inez then hurriedly proceeded to the patio, and took, from a recess in which she kept her few garden utensils, a spud with which she was wont to weed her parterre. She noticed that her plants looked less flourishing than they had done before her brother's illness; no one had cared to water or tend them, and many a shrivelled leaf showed the lack of a mistress's care. "Alcala must not find them thus," thought Inez; "my chief joy in my garden comes from knowing that it gives pleasure to him." In haste to accomplish the work of burying the volume during the absence of Teresa, Inez knelt down, and with her imperfect instrument began to[Pg 138] dig a hole in the earth which surrounded the fountain. The maiden found the task more difficult than she had expected. The sod was dry and hard; Inez had to bring water to saturate the earth before she could make much impression upon it. "A little deeper,—it will be safer to make the hole a little deeper," said Inez to herself, when she paused to take breath after labour which the heat of the day made oppressive. The lady took up her garden utensil again, and struck it, not down into deeper earth, but against something hard which returned a metallic clink to the stroke. "What can be here?" exclaimed the maiden. She removed more of the earth, till a small pile of it was deposited on either side of the hole which she had been digging. A little more scraping then revealed to her view, as she bent over the opening, something like a wooden box with a handle of metal. Stooping yet lower,—she was still on her knees,—Inez took hold of the handle, and with an effort of her utmost strength attempted to draw out the box; but she was unable even to stir it. "Can I help the señorita?" said Chico, who had been attracted to the patio by the slight but unusual noise made by Inez when digging out the earth. Since the death of poor Campeador, the bandy-legged groom had found more time for idling about.[Pg 139] Inez started at the unexpected voice, threw back the long hair which had fallen over her brow as she had stooped and laboured, and rose from her kneeling position. Her first feeling was that of annoyance at the intrusion of Chico; but as she was unable to accomplish her object without assistance, she accepted the offer of his aid. The young lady stood on the marble pavement watching while Chico, with considerable labour and difficulty, disengaged the box from the earth in which it had lain embedded, and, lifting it out of the hole, laid it heavily down at her feet. The box was not so large as an ordinary desk, but exceedingly heavy in proportion to its size. It appeared to be made of walnut wood, with hinges, lock, and handle of steel, and it was clamped with broad bands of the same metal. But for many, many years that box had lain under the earth, and now the steel was rusted, the wood was rotten. The lock, indeed, was a good one still, but the hinges were eaten away with rust, and had no power to resist the strong wrench with which Chico, ere Inez could prevent him, tore off the lid of the box. The sight of its contents, thus laid bare to the view, made Inez open wide her dark eyes with surprise. The box was a little treasury in itself, holding[Pg 140] wealth packed up in the most portable shape. Rouleaus of gold pieces, cases of jewels, a golden goblet filled with chains, coins, snuff-boxes, all of the same precious metal, appeared before the eyes of the wondering girl. "Move nothing—touch nothing!" cried Inez to Chico, who, on his knees, was gloating open-mouthed over the treasure, and about to lift the goblet out of the box to explore what lay beneath it. "The Señor Don Alcala must be the first to examine what is within." Chico took out a piece of parchment and held it up to Inez, who read on it the following words:—"I, Don Pedro de Aguilera, before leaving Seville to join the army, being apprehensive that the French may one day possibly occupy this city, do bury this casket containing my wife's most valuable jewels, and a portion of my family plate, 1810." "Heaven has sent help to us in our utmost need!" exclaimed Inez, clasping her hands, and looking upwards with grateful joy. But wealth is wont to bring care, and Inez had no sooner obtained possession of the family treasure than she began uneasily to revolve in her mind how she could best secure it. Her first impulse was to bid Chico carry it at once to her brother's apartment,[Pg 141] and place it under the care of Alcala. But a moment's reflection made Inez doubt the expediency of this course. "Alcala is in peril already," thought Inez; "should I not greatly add to his danger by placing in his room, which has not even a key to its lock, a treasure like this? If the discovery of these rich jewels and pieces of gold were bruited abroad in Seville, it would arouse the cupidity of all the ruffians with whom this city abounds! My Alcala might be murdered as well as robbed! Would I not act more wisely if I buried the treasure again, only taking out, time by time, a few pieces of money to supply our immediate need?" Inez glanced down at Chico, who, in spite of her prohibition, seemed unable to resist the temptation of fingering the gold with his coarse, dirty hands. "I dare not trust Chico," thought Inez, in sore perplexity; "if the treasure were buried, he at least would know the secret, and there would be nothing to hinder him from abstracting whatever he pleased from the box. I hope, I think that he is honest; but the temptation might prove too great. The gold must be kept under lock and key,—where can I place it in safety?" Inez raised her hand to her brow, and reflected for several moments. It was so new a thing to the maiden to be burdened with the[Pg 142] care of riches! Presently an expression of satisfaction came to the anxious young face. "There is the armoury," thought Inez; "the door is strong, and the lock is good. We will shut up the box within it, and give Alcala the key." The place which was called the armoury, from weapons and ammunition having once been kept there, was little more than a deep recess in the wall which enclosed the patio, closed in by a low strong door, which had been so constructed as to attract little notice from without. A stranger might have resided for months in the house of the Aguileras, and have spent hours every day in the patio, without ever observing that there was a door near to the ornamental grating—indeed, under its shadow whenever the grating was thrown back. The small key of the armoury had been left in the lock, for there had been no need to use it, the place had been for many years empty of all but dust and rubbish. There could be no better place in which to secure the treasure. "Chico," said Inez to her servant, who was still on his knees, fumbling the gold, "mention to no one—not even to Teresa—the finding of this box. You shall be well rewarded for your fidelity and your silence. Now bear the box to the armoury yonder; I will first lock it up there, and then take[Pg 143] the key to Don Alcala, and tell him what I have done." Inez glided across the patio, glad that the grating was closed, so that no stranger from the street could possibly see what was passing within. Followed by Chico carrying the box, the lady reached the armoury, opened the door, and tried the lock. "Place the box there," said the maiden, pointing to the inmost corner of the recess, close to the door of which she was standing. Chico, instead of obeying, set down the heavy box on the pavement, and then, by a movement so sudden that it took Inez completely by surprise, he pushed the lady into the armoury, shut the door, and locked it upon her! Inez cried out aloud in her alarm, when she thus unexpectedly found herself in darkness, a prisoner in her own home. With mingled threats, entreaties, and promises she conjured the false Chico to open the door. The traitor, however, thought time far too precious to wait either to listen or to reply. He could not, indeed, pass through the grating, of which Teresa had taken the key; but he easily made his way out by the same passage as that through which he had entered, one which communicated with the now empty stable. Inez now exerted all her strength in the endeavour[Pg 144] to force open the door, but it resisted her utmost efforts. The air in the armoury was close and confined. Inez could hardly breathe; she was faint with exhaustion and terror. Her cries for help were not heard, though she tried to call out loud enough for her voice to reach some passer-by in the street. Inez at last, finding all her exertions vain, could only await in discomfort and misery the return of Teresa, who would liberate her from her prison. How long, how intolerably wearisome was the time of waiting! What painful companions to poor Inez in her solitude were her own reflections! She could not doubt that the family had been robbed by the worthless Chico,—robbed of their all at the very time when its possession was most sorely needed. The short-lived hopes which the sight of the treasure had raised in the mind of Inez, had vanished from her view like some mirage in the desert before the thirsty traveller's eyes. Poverty—destitution—appeared all the more dreadful from contrast with abundance beheld, but not enjoyed. The minor cares of the moment lent their weight to add to the pressure of greater. Inez was uneasy at the thought of Donna Benita awaking from her siesta, and being frightened at finding no one beside her. Alcala, too, must need his lemonade, and would miss his Book,—the precious volume which[Pg 145] Inez had still in her bosom. Add to all this the physical distress, the sense of suffocation consequent on confinement in a place in which there was no circulation of air, and some idea may be formed of the misery endured by Alcala's sister. The impatience of Inez had risen to the point of agony long before, to her intense relief, she heard in the vaulted passage the heavy step of Teresa, wearily returning from her visit to the shrine of her patron saint. "Release me—oh, release me!" cried out Inez from her place of confinement. Teresa was so much astonished by hearing the cry for help, muffled as it came through the closed door of the armoury, that she dropped the key of the grating, which she was just about to open. "Make haste—or I die!" gasped poor Inez. Teresa made what haste her infirmities and her amazement would permit; but she had to stoop and pick up the key, fit it into the hole, and then push open the grating, and every moment thus employed was a moment of torture to Inez. At length, guided by the voice of her mistress, the old servant entered the patio, and turned round where the armoury door stood close behind the grating. In another second Inez, trembling and gasping for breath, was released from her terrible prison.[Pg 146] "In the name of all the saints, how came you to be locked up here?" exclaimed the wondering duenna. "Chico has robbed us—I can say no more now!" faltered Inez, scarcely able to speak. "Go quickly to Donna Benita,—she may want help,—while I—" The sentence was never ended; for Inez, exhausted and faint as she felt, was already on her way to her brother's apartment. "Chico has robbed us!" echoed the bewildered Teresa, lifting up her hands in amazement. "Robbed the house, and shut up the lady! I know not what there was in the place that the poorest thief in Seville would think it worth his while to take!" Glancing around her, Teresa soon perceived the disordered state of the patio; the marble round the parterre encumbered with heaps of dust and earth, and in the ground under the bushes a hole large enough for an infant's grave. Something had surely been dug out, something had been carried away. Teresa was puzzling her brain to divine what could have occurred during her absence, when she was alarmed by sounds,—but the cause of these sounds must be reserved for the ensuing chapter. <div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> <div class="footnote">[18] Vide "Daybreak in Spain." </div> <div class="footnote">[19] A kind of police. </div> </div> <hr style="width: 65%;" />[Pg 147] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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