Galatea

by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

And as he said this he turned his eyes to look at the old Arsindo, and with them uttered what with his tongue he kept back; for all understood that the third miracle he might have related would have been the sight of Arsindo's gray hairs in love with the few green years of Maurisa. She was talking apart all this time with Galatea and Florisa, telling them that on the morrow Grisaldo would be in the village in shepherd's garb, and that he thought there to wed Rosaura in secret, for publicly he could not, because the kinsmen of Leopersia, to whom his father had agreed to marry him, had learned that Grisaldo was about to fail in his plighted word, and they in no wise wished such a wrong to be done them; but nevertheless Grisaldo was determined to conform rather to what he owed to Rosaura than to the obligation in which he stood to his father.

'All that I have told you, shepherdesses,' went on Maurisa, 'my brother Galercio told me to tell you. He was coming to you with this message, but the cruel Gelasia whose beauty ever draws after it the soul of my luckless brother, was the cause why he could not come to tell you what I have said, since, in order to follow her, he ceased to follow the way he was taking, trusting in me as a sister. You have now learned, shepherdesses, why I have come. Where is Rosaura to tell it her? or do you tell it her, for the anguish in which my brother lies does not permit me to remain here a moment longer.'

Whilst the shepherdess was saying this, Galatea was considering the grievous reply she intended to give her, and the sad tidings that must needs reach the ears of the luckless Grisaldo; but seeing that she could not escape giving them, and that it was worse to detain her, she straightway told her all that had happened to Rosaura, and how Artandro was carrying her off; whereat Maurisa was amazed, and at once would fain have returned to tell Grisaldo, had not Galatea detained her, asking her what had become of the two shepherdesses who had gone away with her and Galercio, to which Maurisa replied:

'I might tell you things about them, Galatea, which would set you in greater wonder than that in which Rosaura's fate has set me, but time does not give me opportunity for it. I only tell you that she who was called Leonarda has betrothed herself to my brother Artidoro by the subtlest trick that has ever been seen; and Teolinda, the other one, is in the pass of ending her life or of losing her wits, and she is only sustained by the sight of Galercio, for, as his appearance resembles so much that of my brother Artidoro, she does not depart from his company for a moment, a thing which is as irksome and vexatious to Galercio as the company of the cruel Gelasia is sweet and pleasing to him. The manner in which this took place I will tell you more in detail, when we see each other again; for it will not be right that by my delay the remedy should be hindered, that Grisaldo may have in his misfortune, using to remedy it all diligence possible. For, if it is only this morning that Artandro carried off Rosaura, he will not have been able to go so far from these banks as to take away from Grisaldo the hope of recovering her, and more so if I quicken my steps as I intend.'

Galatea approved of what Maurisa was saying, and so she did not wish to detain her longer; only she begged her to be kind enough to return to see her as soon as she could, to relate to her what had happened to Teolinda, and what had happened in Rosaura's affair. The shepherdess promised it her, and without staying longer, took leave of those who were there, and returned to her village, leaving all contented with her charm and beauty. But he who felt her departure most was the old Arsindo, who, not to give clear tokens of his desire, had to remain as lonely without Maurisa as he was accompanied by his thoughts. The shepherdesses, too, were left amazed at what they had heard about Teolinda, and desired exceedingly to learn her fate; and, whilst in this state, they heard the clear sound of a horn, which was sounding on their right hand, and turning their eyes to that side, they saw on the top of a hill of some height two old shepherds who had between them an aged priest, whom they straightway knew to be the old Telesio. And, one of the shepherds having blown the horn a second time, the three all descended from the hill and journeyed towards another which was hard by, and having ascended it, they again blew the horn, at the sound of which many shepherds began to move from different parts to come to see what Telesio desired; for by that signal he was wont to call together all the shepherds of that bank whenever he wished to address to them some useful discourse, or to tell them of the death of some renowned shepherd in those parts, or in order to bring to their minds the day of some solemn festival or of some sad funeral rites. Aurelio then, and almost all the shepherds who came there, having recognised Telesio's costume and calling, all came on, drawing nigh to where he was, and when they got there, they were already united in one group. But, as Telesio saw so many people coming, and recognised how important all were, descending from the hill, he went to receive them with much love and courtesy, and with the same courtesy was received by all. And Aurelio, going up to Telesio, said to him:

'Tell us, if you be so good, honourable and venerable Telesio, what new cause moves you to wish to assemble the shepherds of these meadows; is it by chance for joyous festival or sad funereal rite? Do you wish to point out to us something appertaining to the improvement of our lives? Tell us, Telesio, what your will ordains, since you know that ours will not depart from all that yours might wish.'

'May Heaven repay you, shepherds,' answered Telesio, 'for the sincerity of your purposes, since they conform so much to that of him who seeks only your good and profit. But to satisfy the desire you have to learn what I wish, I wish to bring to your memory the memory you ought ever to retain of the worth and fame of the famous and excellent shepherd Meliso, whose mournful obsequies are renewed and ever will be renewed from year to year on to-morrow's date so long as there be shepherds on our banks, and in our souls there be not wanting the knowledge of what is due to Meliso's goodness and worth. At least for myself I can tell you that, as long as my life shall last, I shall not fail to remind you at the fitting time of the obligation under which you have been placed by the skill, courtesy, and virtue of the peerless Meliso. And so now I remind you of it and make known to you that to-morrow is the day when the luckless day must be renewed on which we lost so much good, as it was to lose the agreeable presence of the prudent shepherd Meliso. By what you owe to his goodness, and by what you owe to the purpose I have to serve you, I pray you shepherds to be to-morrow at break of day all in the valley of cypresses, where stands the tomb of Meliso's honoured ashes, in order that there with sad hymns and pious sacrifices we may seek to lighten the pain, if any it suffers, of that happy soul which has left us in such solitude.'

And as he said this, moved by the tender regret the memory of Meliso's death caused him, his venerable eyes filled with tears, most of the bystanders accompanying him therein. They all with one accord offered to be present on the morrow where Telesio bade them, and Timbrio and Silerio, Nisida and Blanca did the same, for it seemed to them that it would not be well to fail to attend at so solemn an occasion and in an assembly of shepherds so celebrated as they imagined would assemble there. Therewith they took leave of Telesio and resumed the journey to the village they had begun. But they had not gone far from that place when they saw coming towards them the loveless Lenio, with a countenance so sad and thoughtful that it set wonder in all; and he was coming so rapt in his fancies that he passed by the side of the shepherds without seeing them; nay, rather, turning his course to the left hand, he had not gone many steps when he flung himself down at the foot of a green willow; and giving forth a heavy and deep sigh, he raised his hand, and placing it on the collar of his skin-coat, pulled so strongly that he tore it all the way down, and straightway he took the wallet from his side, and drawing from it a polished rebeck, he set himself to tune it with great attention and calm; and after a little while he began in a mournful and harmonious voice to sing in such a manner that he constrained all who had seen him to stop to listen to him until the end of his song, which was as follows:

LENIO.