The Pilgrim of Castile; or, El Pelegrino in Su Patria

by Lope de Vega

By this means, Erisila thought that the husband would keep his house, and that Mireno (by this means barred from seeing Lucretia) would come to visit her as he was accustomed. But the knight, whom it concerned to wipe away this spot from his honour by the blood of he who had offended him, seeing it was now no longer time to keep that which was lost, feigning a few days after to go to Montserrat, gave a beginning to his revenge, and an end unto my life. The two lovers were not so besotted, nor I such a fool, that we did not think (although we were ignorant of Erisila’s malice) that this absence might be feigned; having had so many examples in the world; wherefore we sent our faithful friend Aurelio secretly after him. But the advised Telemachus, who knew well that he was not to deceive fools, feigning that he went to Valencia, returned when he was halfway, and hid himself in Barcelona.

Now Mireno could not spend the night so assured with Lucretia but that I kept the door, although he did entreat me not to do it; God knoweth how many nights I passed without pleasure; for my heart did always tell me that their two lives did run a dangerous fortune. But Telemachus the third night after entering by a secret door into the garden (as I spoke of unto you) without being heard or seen by any person, with only one servant with him, who carried a halberd, came unto the chamber where his steps were heard, and out of which Mireno came to meet him, very evil provided of arms to defend himself, not that I doubt he would not have well defended himself, half asleep and naked as he was, with his sword alone which he had in his hand: If his adversary, who was accommodated with more advantageous arms, had not overthrown him dead to the ground with an arquebus shot: the report of the piece, made me judge that such a salutation at that time of the night, was rather a condemnation, than anything else: wherefore endeavouring to break open the doors, I waked the neighbours, some of whom running thither with their arms, and having helped me to overthrow the doors, we entered in. Already had Telemachus broken into his cabin, where Lucretia was hid, and dragging her from thence, not far from the place where Mireno lay, he thrust his sword into her, so that as we arrived, her breath went away with a last Jesu. And as he had already killed Mireno, methought Scaliger’s verse, which is under this picture was not unapt:

Was it not enough to kill and vanquish men?

I had not as yet seen Mireno, and searching him with mine eyes all about the room, I saw him lying dead: thou may see in the tears which now flow from my eyes, what was then my grief, I do not know what I did, yet seeking for Telemachus, I did excuse him for the care of defending himself; and from justifying so bloody an execution: for having met face to face, I thrust at him, with which thrust, he accompanied their two lives, which he had extinguished. By this time the house was beset by those whom the Justice had raised, who apprehended as many as they found, and me especially, for having killed Telemachus without cause, although according to the laws of the world there was but too much cause, and here they put me where thou now see me, and where I have lived this five years, desiring death, as thou may see by this winged heart of mine flying after this image of dead Mireno; with these words out of Virgil:

My Pallas dead, I bide alive by force.

My travels are figured in those of Sisyphus, and Titius, and represented by these words out of Ovid:

O wretched state, constrain’d to live In plaints eternally: When Death which only help can give, Affords no power to die.

The sorrow which this great city felt by the loss of Mireno is expressed in this figure of the head and heart of Orpheus, with these words:

There wept the Woods, the Beasts, and the Serpents.

For I do not think that there was either tree or stone which were not moved with this so pitiful an accident. And here will I end his story, with these tears which I will offer incessantly to his memory, and these words which I have made for Lucretia’s tomb: