"Did you but know that he lost the woman he loved by a dagger-stroke from a matador, you would probably care more for the story of his singular misfortunes."
"Pardon me, padre," said Ronald, with a melancholy interest; "what were they?"
"The full career of Alonza's glory was cut short thus. One evening, on returning home, he found his wife, a most beautiful woman, lying dead, with a dagger planted in her heart. His servant, a vile Italian, the perpetrator of the deed, had fled, and by order of the alcalde Mayor, Alonza was arrested, and charged with having slain the lady in a fit of jealousy. The dagger which the assassin used, was known to be that of Alonza; he was a man naturally of a fierce and jealous temper, and had kept watchful eyes on the senora, who was the handsomest woman that ever promenaded on the Prado, or Plaza, at Madrid; and the compliments paid her by the gay cavaliers and guardsmen of the capital were as molten lead poured into the heart of her husband, though of course very proud of her, for she was a fine creature,—Como un palmito, as the old proverb says."
"Is this all the story, Ignacio?"
"The rest is yet to come. The tail is the worst, senor; as the old saw says,—Aun lefalta la cola por desollar."
"The devil take your saws and proverbs! You are as full of them as your countryman Sancho Panza."
"Well, senor; Alonza was racked without mercy to extort confession, and he endured the most horrible torments without uttering a word to criminate himself. By the king's order he was set free, and died at a great age, a poor priest like myself. In his dying hour, when a brother held the crucifix before his glazing eyes, he desired him to remove it, saying the image of our Saviour was so clumsily done, that the sight of it pained him; as the proverb says, senor, De paja—"
But Ronald did not permit him to finish the adage, requesting him to retire in a manner that was not to be disputed. Early next morning he was despatched to Idanha-a-Velha, bearing the letter for Donna Inesella. He resolutely refused to take a single maravedi to defray his expenses, although the journey was a very long one. So simple were his habits of living, learned while a shepherd among the mountains, that he could easily subsist on charity and what he could pick up by the way-side, where ripe oranges, luscious grapes, and juicy pumpkins grew wild, or by chanting songs to the sound of the rebeck,—a primitive kind of guitar, having only three strings.
"I am accustomed to a wandering life, senor," said he, as he bade Ronald adieu; "it suits and squares with me perfectly,—Quadrado y esquinado, as the proverb has it. Frail and withered as I appear, I can well bear fatigue, and am as tough as an old toledo, and will undertake to reach Idanha-a-Velha almost as soon as if mounted on the best mule that ever bore the sign of the cross on its back."
To keep his promise, pledged to Catalina, Ronald paid into the treasury of the convent two golden onzas, to obtain masses for her departed spirit. Let it not be imagined for a moment that he believed in their efficacy; but he remembered that it was Catalina's wish—indeed almost her last request, that such should be done, and he paid the onzas rather as a duty of affection than religion. This act left him in indifferent pecuniary circumstances, as it carried off the whole month's subsistence which he had received from the regimental paymaster, after the storm of Almarez. Pay was a scarce matter with the Peninsular troops, who, at the time the battle of Vittoria was fought, had not received a single farthing for upwards of six months.