The Life and Adventures of Guzman D'Alfarache, or the Spanish Rogue, vol. 3/3

by Mateo Alemán

It was a lovely night. I strolled round the house, observing with an eye of curiosity whatever I could discern by the light of the stars, which shone extremely bright. I followed a sloping path which led me under a balcony that commanded a view of the river. I sat down at the foot of a tree opposite the balcony, which I considered attentively, supposing it to be my lady abbess’s apartment. I could perceive a light, and shortly after a confused noise of female voices struck my ear; then all of a sudden a profound silence ensued, which was interrupted in its turn by a Spanish song warbled by a very delicate voice. The singer seemed to please her company exceedingly, and she was much applauded. Another lady then sang an Italian air with which I was well acquainted, and was equally complimented. So immoderate a desire then possessed me to amuse the ladies with my melodious voice, that I could scarcely have the patience to hear this song out. I was half inclined to sing the same over again, for it was one of those for which I had been most applauded at the Grand Duke’s concert at Florence. However, I was prudent enough to spare the lady the mortification of the comparison; and having remembered another air which had particularly pleased the Grand Duchess, I chose that in its stead.

Hoping thus agreeably to surprise these recluses by my fine voice, as well as by the singularity of the adventure, I sang, and, when I had finished the air, had the pleasure of hearing exclamations of astonishment mingled with admiration. The glass-door of the balcony flew open, and several ladies hurried forward in the hope of seeing who it could be that sang so sweetly. I affected not to observe them, and, after having paused a moment, began my air again. As soon as I ceased, I could hear myself again applauded by the ladies, who, however, in the hopes of being favoured with another, communicated their admiration only in whispers. I perceived their design, and was malicious enough to provoke them by remaining silent, without stirring from the spot. One of the ladies, more impatient than the rest, then addressed me, saying, “That one song from so charming a voice was but very insufficient for so many ladies who were so passionately fond of music.” “’Tis too little,” replied I in Italian, “for so many ladies, but far too much for a pilgrim, to whom they have so cruelly refused shelter.”

My answer excited great laughter, from which they supposed I was the stranger who had requested to lodge in the abbey. “Signor Cavalier,” cried one of them, “be not displeased at the refusal that was returned you. It is a law established in this convent not to admit any strange gentleman after eight o’clock in the evening; but your charming voice has had such influence, that the lady abbess consents, for once, to dispense with the regulation, and, unless you are so true a knight-errant as to prefer passing the night on the banks of this river, has just given order to open the gates to you.” I made answer, “that I was rejoiced to learn that to obtain shelter from my lady abbess it was only necessary to set my request to music.” This little trait of raillery excited their laughter afresh, more especially as it was the lady abbess herself to whom I was speaking. They were by no means displeased with my apparent gaiety, and, as they wished to take a nearer view of my figure, of which they could form but an indistinct idea where I sat, they entreated me to walk in, telling me “that the lady abbess would soon be reconciled to me.”

At these words, to shew them that I desired nothing better than such an invitation, I rose instantly, and bowing to the company in the most respectful manner as I passed the balcony, I soon regained the abbey-gate, where the porter met me, and, desiring me to follow him, conducted me into a large and very elegant parlour. Here I was received by the lady abbess and a secular lady; they were both seated on cushions of violet-coloured damask, and six or seven nuns stood behind them. All these ladies kept profoundly silent, and preserved an air of gravity which would have disconcerted any other but myself; but I had so often visited the grate at Rome, that I knew well what behaviour to adopt. I accosted them, therefore, in a jocose manner, and some lucky sallies which escaped me soon dissipated their affected gravity. I then complained in so good-natured a manner of the law which forbids them to admit strangers into the convent at night, that I soon succeeded in amusing them.

In the mean time a small table was laid out with some venison pasties, wine, and sweetmeats. I needed no very pressing invitation to eat and drink, for I acquitted myself like a hungry traveller as I was, not forgetting, however, to whisper occasional compliments to the lady abbess, as well as to the secular lady, whom I thought very handsome. She had an air of youth and peculiar sprightliness, which rendered her particularly engaging. Some of the nuns remarking that I admired her, asked me if I did not think that their community had reason to be proud of the acquisition of such a lady. This inspired me with a thousand thoughts in her favour. I spoke nothing but Italian, and being dressed also in the Italian fashion, I easily passed for one of that nation. Such of the ladies as were acquainted with that language were so condescending as not to speak to me in Spanish. When they perceived that I had done eating, they contrived to turn the conversation on music, and one and all entreated me to favour them with one of the newest Italian airs. I consented willingly, and, animated by degrees, by the praises bestowed on me at the end of each couplet, such a rage for singing possessed me, that no sooner had I finished one song than I began another. As to the company, and especially the secular lady, they were so delighted to listen to me, that they seemed not to have the least thought of retiring, though it was already after midnight. I really believe that day would have surprised us in the parlour, had not the abbess, for the sake of preserving the DECORUM of a monastic life, thought proper to put an end to a pastime so contrary to their established regulations, by reminding the ladies that they were imposing on my good nature. “Our guest,” said she, “cannot but be fatigued; besides, you ought to reserve some pleasure for to-morrow. He will not, I trust, think of departing before we have had the pleasure of seeing him again.” This was a polite way of desiring me to sing no more; so that, wishing the company good night, I joined the porter, who was waiting at the parlour-door to conduct me to the apartment that was prepared for me.

I was not a little astonished in entering to find my servants there, whom they had been kind enough to send for, with my baggage, and who had been entertained like myself. I found also that even my three mules had not been forgotten, and that, thanks to their master’s fine voice, they had had a good bellyful of provender in the convent stables. The chamber in which I lay, occupied my attention for some time. There was in the furniture, although plain, a certain air of simplicity far superior to magnificence; and my bed could not have been better prepared even for the Archbishop of Saragossa. Having got into it, I told my servants to follow the porter to their beds. I then called the muleteer to me, who was no fool, and charged him to be sure to ascertain who the secular lady was whom I had seen with the Lady Abbess. He acquitted himself well of this commission: “Sir,” said he, when I rose the next morning, “I have questioned one of the footmen respecting the lady of whom you wish to know, and he has told me every particular without hesitation. She is a widow, as he says, very rich, and of one of the best families in Saragossa. She has many admirers; and among others, a nephew of the Lady Abbess, a young man of about two and twenty at most, wonderfully well made, and extremely handsome. Unless, however, I am much mistaken,” added he, “my mistress is but very indifferent to his addresses; while on the contrary my Lady Abbess, who has a great affection for this unlicked cub, is most anxious to promote the match. This is all,” said the muleteer, “that I have learnt from the footman; but the porter has just informed me that this young widow, who arrived at the abbey only an hour or two before you, intends to return home this afternoon.”

At the word widow, I sighed deeply. It brought to my recollection my fair one at Florence, and I at first imagined that I was sighing for her; but to say the truth, I soon felt that my heart, less intent upon the past than the present, was captivated by the charms of the widow of Saragossa. I could no longer doubt it when I beheld her again in the parlour, where the abbess, after mass was over, invited me. I appeared there again with all the good humour of the preceding evening. There were but three nuns with the abbess besides the object of my new passion. The conversation soon became lively and facetious, and was by no means damped by the arrival of several more of the most sprightly nuns in the convent, who joined us soon after. My lovely widow, who possessed a fund of wit, contributed her share, and I applauded, from the bottom of my heart, every little repartee that escaped her lips. She saw plainly that I was in admiration at every thing she said, and that I distinguished her from the rest of the company, and she was evidently not a little pleased by my attentions.

In the midst of our laughter, a servant announced to the abbess that Don Antonio de Miras was on the stairs, which seemed to please her extremely; for this was her dear nephew whom she wished to see united to the beautiful widow. His aunt had sent him word the evening before, that Donna Lucia (for that was my charmer’s name) was at the abbey, and he could not of course neglect so favourable an opportunity of waiting upon a lady whom he aspired to marry. The portrait that the muleteer had given me of this young gentleman, was by no means flattering, for I never beheld a handsomer cavalier. No woman ever so vain of her beauty but might have been proud to have had such a face. Add to which he was of a handsome figure, and had every appearance of a man of quality. His dress, which was extremely elegant, added also to his prepossessing appearance. I should certainly have died with jealousy at sight of such a rival, had I not been previously informed that he was by no means eminently gifted with understanding. This thought helped to support me against such formidable disadvantages, and an observation which I afterwards made emboldened me at least to dispute with him the heart of Donna Lucia; for I perceived that this lady, so far from testifying any joy at his arrival, seemed to look upon him with an eye of indifference, and replied very coldly to all his compliments.

Don Antonio and I at first looked at each other like two young cocks; but as it was my interest to be on good terms with him, I loaded him with compliments, and in less than an hour we were the best friends in the world. When dinner hour arrived, the abbess caused two tables to be laid in the parlour, one without the grate for her nephew and myself, and the other within for the ladies. Our repast, which was fit for the first nobleman to sit down to, was seasoned with jests and anecdotes, which amused us all exceedingly. More than half the afternoon was passed away in the same agreeable manner.

I talked, sang, laughed, and in short shewed that I could do any thing; insomuch that the nuns, though accustomed to receive the visits of gentlemen, assured me that they had never yet seen one possessing such a fund of amusement. In the mean time the hour of separation drew nigh. It was time for the fair widow to set off for Saragossa, if she hoped to arrive there before night. She took leave, therefore, of the Lady Abbess and the nuns, and ascended into her litter, which was in waiting for her at the door. As it was my intention to accompany her, I had ordered my equipage also to be in readiness. I vaulted nimbly on my mule, which cut but a sorry figure by the side of Don Antonio’s hunter. Besides his having one of the finest horses in Spain, this young gentleman was an experienced horseman, and before we started made his horse pass through a thousand manœuvres with considerable grace. I was extremely mortified that I could not by any means provoke my peaceable and stupid mule to imitate him; my endeavours to make him caper a little, served only to amuse the ladies who were observing us from the windows.