Guide.—What do I mean by the Estadéa? My master asks me what I mean by the Estadinha. [274] I have met the Estadinha but once, and it was upon a moor something like this. I was in company with several women, and a thick haze came on, and suddenly a thousand lights shone above our heads in the haze, and there was a wild cry, and the women fell to the ground screaming Estadéa! Estadéa! and I myself fell to the ground crying out Estadinha! The Estadéa are the spirits of the dead which ride upon the haze, bearing candles in their hands. I tell you frankly, my master, that if we meet the assembly of the souls, I shall leave you at once, and then I shall run and run till I drown myself in the sea, somewhere about Muros. We shall not reach Corcuvion this night; my only hope is that we may find some choza upon these moors, where we may hide our heads from the Estadinha.
The night overtook us ere we had traversed the moor; there was, however, no haze, to the great joy of my guide, and a corner of the moon partially illumined our steps. Our situation, however, was dreary enough: we were upon the wildest heath of the wildest province of Spain, ignorant of our way, and directing our course we scarcely knew whither, for my guide repeatedly declared to me, that he did not believe that such a place as Finisterra existed, or if it did exist, it was some bleak mountain pointed out in a map. When I reflected on the character of this guide, I derived but little comfort or encouragement: he was at best evidently half witted, and was by his own confession occasionally seized with paroxysms which differed from madness in no essential respect; his wild escapade in the morning of nearly three leagues, without any apparent cause, and lastly his superstitious and frantic fears of meeting the souls of the dead upon this heath, in which event he intended, as he himself said, to desert me and make for the sea, operated rather powerfully upon my nerves. I likewise considered that it was quite possible that we might be in the route neither of Finisterra nor Corcuvion, and I therefore determined to enter the first cabin at which we should arrive, in preference to running the risk of breaking our necks by tumbling down some pit or precipice. No cabin, however, appeared in sight: the moor seemed interminable, and we wandered on until the moon disappeared, and we were left in almost total darkness.
At length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up which a rough and broken pathway appeared to lead.
“Can this be our way?” said I to the guide.
“There appears to be no other for us, captain,” replied the man; “let us ascend it by all means, and when we are at the top, if the sea be in the neighbourhood we shall see it.”
I then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such darkness would have been madness. We clambered up in a line, first the guide, next the pony, with his nose as usual on his master’s shoulder, of whom he seemed passionately fond, and I bringing up the rear, with my left hand grasping the animal’s tail. We had many a stumble, and more than one fall: once, indeed, we were all rolling down the side of the hill together. In about twenty minutes we reached the summit, and looked around us, but no sea was visible: a black moor, indistinctly seen, seemed to spread on every side.
“We shall have to take up our quarters here till morning,” said I.
Suddenly my guide seized me by the hand: “There is lume, Senhor,” said he, “there is lume.” I looked in the direction in which he pointed, and, after straining my eyes for some time, imagined that I perceived, far below and at some distance, a faint glow. “That is lume,” shouted the guide, “and it proceeds from the chimney of a choza.”
On descending the eminence, we roamed about for a considerable time, until we at last found ourselves in the midst of about six or eight black huts. “Knock at the door of one of these,” said I to the guide, “and inquire of the people whether they can shelter us for the night.” He did so, and a man presently made his appearance, bearing in his hand a lighted firebrand.
“Can you shelter a Cavalheiro from the night and the Estadéa?” said my guide.