The Wanderings of Persiles and Sigismunda: A Northern Story

by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra

They travelled through the land of France, and passing through Languedoc, entered Provence, where, in an inn at which they rested, they found three ladies of such extraordinary beauty, that, had not Auristella been in the world, they might have borne away the palm of beauty. They seemed to be of high degree, judging by their retinue and attendants. They, on seeing the pilgrims, were struck by the grace of Periander and the peerless beauty of Auristella and Constance; they went up to them, and, with smiling countenances and courteous demeanour, asked who they were in the Castilian tongue, for they perceived that they were Spanish pilgrims; and in France there is neither man nor woman but learns the Spanish language. Whilst the ladies were waiting for Auristella's reply, to whom they had addressed themselves, Periander had stepped aside to converse with a servant, who appeared to belong to the illustrious Frenchwomen, asking him who they were, and whither going; and he answered, "The Duke de Nemours, who is of the blood-royal in this country, is a gallant and very prudent gentleman, but withal he loves his pleasures; he has lately come into possession of his inheritance, and is resolved to marry, not to please others, but to choose for himself, even though he is offered great increase of wealth and property, and although he is acting contrary to the king's commands; but, he says, that kings may give what wives they choose to their vassals, but he does not choose that they should give one to him. With this fantasy, or folly, or wisdom, or whatever you please to call it, he has despatched some of his servants to different parts of France in search of women, who must, besides being of high birth, be beautiful, for him to select a wife from among them. He does not care for wealth, but is satisfied to let her portion be her qualities and her beauty. He had heard of these three ladies, and sent me, who am in his service, to see them, and have their portraits taken by a famous painter, who travels with me; all three are free from any engagement; all are young, as you perceive; the eldest, who is called Delicia, is very sensible, but poor; the middle one, whose name is Bellarmina, is high-minded and witty, and moderately rich; the least of the three is called Felicia Flora, she is much the richest of all. They are all acquainted with the duke's desire, and I have a conjecture that each lady would gladly be the chosen one. Having an opportunity to go to Rome for the jubilee of this year, which is the Centenary, so kept according to custom, they have left their homes, and mean to go to Paris and see the duke, hoping, perhaps, that this may be of some avail. But, Sir Pilgrim, since you have come here I have determined to carry my master a present, which will entirely put an end to any hopes these ladies may have conceived, for I intend to take him the portrait of this fair pilgrim who is with you, for she is the sole queen of all earthly beauty; and if she was but as highly born as she is beautiful, my master's servants would have no further to go, nor he anything more to desire. Tell me, sir, on your life, if this pilgrim is married, what is her name, and what her parentage?" To which Periander tremblingly replied, "Her name is Auristella; she is on her way to Rome, and who her parents are, she has never told anybody; that she is free and unmarried I can assure you, for that I know without a doubt; but there is another thing to be said, which is, that she is so independent and mistress of her own will, that she will never submit it to any earthly prince, because, she says, that she will submit it only to a heavenly one; and to convince you that this is the truth, learn that I am her brother, and acquainted with her most secret thoughts; so it will be of no use at all to have her picture taken, but would serve only to disturb the mind of your master, if by chance he should feel disposed to overlook the humble birth of our parents."

"Notwithstanding this," said the other, "I must have the picture if only for curiosity, and that France may be made acquainted with this new miracle of beauty."

So saying, they took leave of each other, and Periander wished to quit the place directly, that the painter might not have time to take Auristella's portrait. Bartholomew had to get the mule ready afresh, and again began to be out of sorts with Periander for being in such a hurry to move.

The duke's servant, seeing that Periander meant to depart immediately, came to him and said, "I would fain, sir, have entreated you to stay a short time in this place, if but until night, that my painter might have time and space to take the likeness of your sister; but you may go in peace, for the painter assures me that though he has only seen her once, her image is so fixed in his imagination that he can paint her by himself quite as well as if he was looking at her."

Periander cursed the rare skill of the artist in his heart, but not the less for this did he wish to be gone; taking leave directly of the three charming Frenchwomen, who embraced Auristella and Constance warmly, and offered to take them to Rome along with their party, if they pleased. Auristella thanked them in the most polite manner she knew, telling them that she obeyed her brother Periander in all things, and that neither she nor Constance could stay behind, since her brother Antonio and Periander were going. So they departed, and in about a week they arrived at a place in Provence; what happened there will be told in the next chapter.

CHAPTER XIV.

History, poetry, and painting resemble one another, and so it appears that in writing history, one paints a picture; in painting, one composes a story; history does not always treat of weighty matters, neither does the painter always choose great or magnificent subjects for his pencil; poetry is not always in the clouds; history must treat of base deeds; painting has grass and furze in her pictures, and poetry exalts humble things. These truths are shown in our history.

It was noon, the sun's rays shot down vertically upon the ground, and the heat was very great; many pleasant looking houses were scattered over the peaceful plains through which they were now travelling, where the gentry of this country passed the greater part of the year, seldom quitting them for a town life. Our travellers had arrived near one of these, which was a little distant from the high road; the shadow cast by a tall tower of the dwelling, invited them to take their siesta there, as the heat threatened to be great. The careful Bartholomew unloaded his mule, and spread a carpet on the ground; they seated themselves in a circle, and prepared to make their repast upon the provisions that Bartholomew had taken care to provide, which were welcome, for they were beginning to feel hungry; but, hardly had they raised their hands to their mouths, when Bartholomew, looking up, cried out, "Get away, gentlemen! ladies, get away quickly! here is something tumbling down from the skies, I know not what, but it will not be well to have it fall on us." They looked up, and saw a figure coming down from above, which, before they could tell what it was, fell almost at Periander's feet. The figure proved to be a very pretty woman who had been thrown from the top of the tower; but, her clothes serving as a bell, supported her like wings, and she got up unhurt, a thing quite possible without any miracle. However, the event left her in a state of great agitation and fright, as also was the state of those who had seen her fall. In the tower, loud shrieks and screams were heard from a woman whom they saw struggling with a man, and it seemed as if each was endeavouring to throw the other over.