This, in its turn, unkennelled the publican’s Cara Sposa. The combat recovered its equilibrium, and seemed likely to be terminated only by the coming night; for all our endeavours to withdraw the valorous Antonio proved unavailing. But, in the words of the Manchegan Knight, “siempre deja la ventura, una puerta abierta.”[119] The publican and his wife, though proof against the reputation-killing batteries of their open enemies, could not stand before an insidious covert attack that was now about to open upon them.
The town’s people, amongst whom the liberal ventero did not appear to be in good odour, flocked in crowds to the scene of action, and, though professing to take no part in the fray, yet, by whooping, hollowing, and laughing, whenever the widow and her Portuguese ally fired a successful shot at their adversaries, they gave the former a “moral support,” that, in its results, proved quite as efficacious as an active interference.
The Innkeeper—who hitherto had manfully confronted his opponents—now saw that victory was no longer attainable, and abandoned the field; leaving his light-tongued helpmate to cover his retreat. This task she performed with consummate ability, supporting her nearly exhausted volleys of words by screams of defiance, and various offensive gesticulations. The last distinguishable turn of reproach that reached our ears, was Alarbes![120] which she seemed to consider the ne plus ultra of vituperation, and certainly was the very last epithet we had any right to expect would be applied to fair-skinned mortals like ourselves, by such a bronze-complexioned semi-morisco.
The battle over, and stable door unlocked,—the key of which, firmly grasped in her right hand, had been the standard under which our hostess had fought and conquered,—we led our tired horses in, leaving her to fire a round of taunts in celebration of the victory.
Casarabonela is a clean and well-paved town. For the former quality, it is principally indebted to a stream of limpid water that, issuing from the side of the mountain, rushes down the steep streets, carrying every thing offensive before it. Its supply is so bountiful that, besides doing the scavenging duty of the town, and turning a number of mill-wheels, it is led off in irrigating channels through all the gardens and orchards in the neighbourhood.
The inhabitants are celebrated for their comeliness, and I willingly bear witness to the truth of common report in this particular instance; having seldom seen more lovely faces than amongst those of the bright-eyed, fair-complexioned damsels of this mountain town. Nor are their figures unworthy of note, albeit, their limbs are something too muscular for Naiades and Oreades.
It is meet, by the way, that I should explain how I became acquainted with this latter fact relating to their secret history, lest scandal should blight the fair fame of the Casarabonelian maidens. The truth is, then, we arrived at the town upon a washing day, and in taking our evening stroll, chanced to come upon the congregated village nymphs engaged knee-deep at their lavatory vocation in the mill stream; jumping and stamping with all their might upon the soiled garments of the preceding week; and certainly displaying more of their fair skins than might reasonably have been expected to meet the eyes of strangers. So they appeared to think also; for our sudden advent created an extraordinary sensation amongst them. Some had sufficient presence of mind to get on dry ground ere they loosened the bandage that confined their petticoats at the knee; others, regardless of consequences, let them drop in the water; and some few were so completely bewildered as to fancy their only chance of obtaining concealment was by squatting down, even in the midst of the stream.—All laughed, but there was nothing either immodest or rude in their merriment. They were evidently ashamed that their bare legs (albeit not to be ashamed of) had been exposed to our gaze; but, at the same time, they could not but be amused at the various extraordinary expedients resorted to to conceal them.
As we could not accuse ourselves of any indiscreet curiosity in this matter—for we had followed a beaten path leading to the old castle—we had but to compliment them on their fair skins and sound understandings, and pass on. Indeed, I suspect it was merely our being strangers that had occasioned their modesty to be so put to the blush; for their own countrymen must have been passing to and fro the whole day, in proceeding to their work in the fields. Such is the force of habit.
The view from the Old Castle, looking towards Malaga, is nearly equal to that from the top of the mountain; and in the opposite direction, the outline of the Sierra itself is very bold, and is set off to great advantage by the rich foliage of well-grown forest trees that clothe its rough side.
Our landlady’s will was better than her accommodation. Our beds, which (so careful was she of her reputation) were all in one small room, looked well enough; but the somnifugeous animals domesticated therein were so numerous, so vigorous, and so insatiable, that we gladly hailed the dawn of day to escape from their persevering attentions.