CHAPTER XXII.
THE FAMILY OF THE SPANISH MERCHANT.
I was wakened by some one flashing a lantern in my face, and hastily starting to my feet, for I feared that I might have been discovered, I found myself standing beside a personage well-stricken in years, of grave but pleasant aspect, and soberly clad, as one of those old decent serving men, who become, as it were, members of the family on whom they attend.
‘Fear for nothing, young man,’ said the servitor, seeing, I suppose, the momentary flurry and tremor in which I was; ‘you are in a very secure asylum. My good mistress, whom heaven preserve! is known for her charity, and the Virgin directed the steps which led you here to-night.’
This discourse, you may be sure, was very pleasant to me; and while I was blessing my stars for my good luck, the old man, who was sufficiently garrulous, went on praising his mistress and the Virgin alternately, so that it became difficult to determine which he held in the greatest respect.
‘Not a lady is there, either in Old Spain or in New—the saints be blessed for it! who hath even a tithe of my mistress’s virtues. So was it indeed with her father before her, and so will it be with her daughter after her; for I have well-known all three—albeit my young mistress is not yet turned of seventeen. Notwithstanding, however, she is already a most dainty and brave lady; her equal not being to be found in any city or colony in the Main, for which I bless the saints, and particularly Saint Gieronimo, who is indeed my mistress’s patron saint, and would be mine also, were it not that I would not venture to intrude upon his holy notice my poor concerns, his attention being no doubt, fully taken up with those of my betters.’
Running on in this random way, the old man led me, while he talked, through the garden towards the house. It was his lady’s pleasure, he said, that I should eat a good supper, repose me in a good bed, and that I should to-morrow be introduced to herself and her daughter, they having, however, as I learned much to my surprise, already been made acquainted with some portions of my story, and longing to know the rest. As we spoke thus, we entered a wing of a handsome mansion, pillared and porticoed all round, and having a flat roof, whereon were set pots and tubs containing delicate flowering shrubs. We traversed divers passages, through which the fresh night air freely penetrated, and I could not but admire the delicate carving of the polished wood which formed the wainscoting of the walls. At length we entered a pleasant chamber, where was a bed, and a table well laid out for supper. You may imagine that I played a very good knife and fork, and the old steward or intendant, or whatever he was, bore me company with rare good will. After supper, we drank some of the most delicious wine to which I ever put my lips; and then, in answer to my earnest entreaties, my companion informed me of the name and quality of my preservers and hosts.
‘You are not to suppose, Master Mariner,’ quoth he, ‘that you are in the mansion of a grandee of Spain. Because, for many generations, the family of the late Bartholomew Moranté were merchants, having great possessions both in Old and New Spain, at Alicant, upon the Mediterranean Sea, and on this side the ocean, at Havanna in Cuba, and here at Carthagena. Now, the wealth of Señor Bartholomew, my late master, who is with the saints, was so exceeding, that the king would have made him a noble, but to this dignity Señor Bartholomew did not in any way aspire. The first part of his life was very fortunate; not a galley, not a caravel sent he out, but it returned to him with the venture increased manyfold. But as he waxed old, the saints, doubtless having a mind to try his faith, it was so ordered that he experienced many crosses and losses, in such wise indeed that he left Alicant, not having any longer the means to keep up the brave state he had formerly supported, and came hither, and settled in this house at Carthagena. But his ill-fortune—praise to the saints, who, doubtless, took great interest in my late master, seeing that they were pleased thus to afflict him!—his ill-fortune, I say, following him, he was obliged to send away his agents at the Havanna, and at length, his greatest bark, richly freighted, being taken at sea, and all on board of her killed or sold into slavery, by a French devil incarnate, whom they call Montbars, and whom may heaven, in its mercy, cause to be eternally tormented—my good master took to his bed, and we weeping all around him, and blessing the saints, who, without doubt, had thus broken his heart, in order that they might take him to themselves, the worthy Bartholomew Moranté departed this life to enter into a better world where are neither spoilers nor stealers, nor doth there happen any manner of trouble or cross. His widow, whom still I serve, dwells here in this house, and places great confidence in me, looking up, although I say it, to my advice and counsels; for I am old in the world, and have seen much appertaining to domestic service, and am also much enlightened in visions by the holy saints, who are pleased to make my hours of sleep as profitable to my good patroness as my times of waking.’
From this rambling discourse of the old gentleman, I saw plainly of what kidney he was—to wit, a very honest-hearted simpleton, who loved his mistress dearly, while she, if her steward spoke sooth, was probably as simple-minded as himself. But, desiring to know somewhat of the young lady, the serving-man broke out into raptures concerning her innocence and her beauty.
‘Her name,’ quoth he, ‘thanks to the saints! is Joseffa—Joseffa Moranté—a rare brave name for a rare brave damsel. But she will change it sometime, mayhap. Nay, very soon—if all go right, and the saints will it.’