CHAPTER XIII.
D'une secrète horreur je me sens frissoner;
Je crains, malgré moi-même, un malheur que j'ignore.
Racine.
Señor Gomez Arias
Duelete de mi
Que soy niña y sola
Nunca en tal me vi.
Calderon.
It was a rich and splendid summer evening. The sun was slowly sinking behind the giant mountains of the Alpujarras, whose dark fantastic shadows were gradually lengthening along the plains below. No intruding sound broke upon the soft stillness of the scene, save when the feathered tenants of the forest warbled their evening song, or the tolling of a distant convent bell reverberated through the sombre recesses of the mountains. A soft languor prevailed over the sylvan scenery. The fancifully wreathing clouds, streaked with the red and gold of the lingering sun—the variegated tints of those quiet solitudes—the warm, chequered streams of light that glanced on the broad-leafed tree, or fitfully quivered over the straggling streamlet—the calm repose which reigned over that wide extending landscape, all tended to raise the mind to contemplation, and to interest the heart.
At this tranquil hour, a group, consisting of three persons, were seen slowly ascending a green sloping height, which seemed designed by nature as a first resting place in the severe ascent of the gigantic mountain. The first of the party was a knight of most gallant bearing, and mounted on a shining black steed. Close by his side rode a beautiful damsel, whose long redundant tresses were with difficulty restrained in a fillet of silver lace. She wore a long riding habit; a Spanish hat, ornamented with a plume of black feathers, was hanging gracefully on one side of her head. Having thrown aside the thick veil which had protected her from the scorching influence of the sun, she discovered a fair countenance, to whose delicate cheek the heat and exercise had lent a gentle tinge of the rose. Yet an expression of pensive sadness pervaded the features of the lovely traveller.
At a short distance behind these two personages, rode a man who appeared by his dress and deportment to be their attendant. He sat with perfect nonchalance on a stout Andalusian horse, but by the looks of suspicious alertness, which he now and then cast around, it might be inferred that this apparent ease was not in strict unison with his inward feelings. At the moment of which we speak, he was singing in a mezzo tuono the romance of the Marriage of the Cid—
A Ximena y a Rodrigo
Prendió el rey palabraymano
De juntarlos para en uno
En presencia de Layn Calvo.
"Cease thy confounded noise, Roque," cried angrily the knight, who, as the reader may suppose, was no other than Gomez Arias. "What in the name of Satan can induce thee to sing, when thou hast neither voice nor ear? Give over, for thy confounded harmony is anything but pleasing."
"Señor," observed the attendant; "what if I only sing to please myself?"
"Silence, buffoon; or I shall presently raise a discord about thee, by which all thy future powers of hearing shall be ruefully endangered."