Ye Heavens, with what facility does the poet's imagination disperse a thousand impossibilities: what grand chimeras does he not build upon the weakest foundations! He can do anything, all is easy and plain; hope can support him even when fortune fails. Thus it was with this our present poet; when he by chance saw the picture in which all the adventures of Periander were portrayed. He there saw, more than he had ever conceived in his whole life, and thereupon he felt a strong desire to write a drama about it, only he was puzzled whether to make it a tragedy or a comedy, or a tragi-comedy; and if he knew the middle, he did not know either the beginning or the end. But what troubled him most was, how he could possibly introduce a lacquey[M], a merry-andrew personage amongst all these islands and seas, fires, and snows; nevertheless, he did not despair, he would still make the play, and bring the merry-andrew in, in spite of all the rules of poetry and the drama; and so fully was he taken up with his idea, that he found an opportunity to speak to Auristella, and open his intention to her, consulting her as to what part she would take if she became an actress, telling her that she would find the theatre a mine of gold, for the princes of that age were like alchymists, who changed your copper into gold; that she might have her garments all of cloth of gold, for all the gentlemen would be at her feet. He represented the pleasure of the journeys she would make, and how she would carry in her train two or three young nobles in disguise, who would be her servants as much as her lovers; and, above all, he extolled up to the very skies the honour and glory she would have in representing all the first parts, and he wound up all, by telling her, that if one thing more falsified than another the old Castilian saying, "That honour and money are seldom found together," it was in the life of a beautiful actress.
Auristella replied that she had not understood a single word of all he had been saying, for that she was ignorant of the Castilian language, as he might plainly see; but when it was explained to her, she said, her views were very different, and that she had other prospects to look forward to, if not so agreeable, at least more suited to her taste.
The poet was in despair at this reply, which at once destroyed all the castles in the air he had been building in his folly and vanity.
They all went that evening to the Corregidor's house, who, having heard of the arrival of the beautiful pilgrims in the city, sent to invite them to come and see the play, which was to be performed, and to accept his best endeavours to be of any service to them, in consequence of all that he had heard from Lisbon in their praise.
Periander, by the desire of Auristella and the elder Antonio, who he obeyed as his superior in age, accepted the invitation. There were many ladies of the city with the wife of the Corregidor, when the fair pilgrims, with Periander and the two Antonios, entered the room: all were amazed and confounded at the surprising beauty and grace of the strangers, which increased the desire of every one to show them all possible kindness and civility; and their host forced them to take the highest places at the entertainment, which was the representation of the fable of Cephalus and Procris, when she, from an undue jealousy, lost her life by the dart too incautiously thrown by him, to his eternal sorrow. The verse bordered on perfection, as it was composed, they say, by Juan de Herrera de Gamboa, nicknamed El Maganto, or the Spiritless, whose genius soared to the highest order of poetry.
When the play was over, the ladies examined the beauties of Auristella minutely, and each feature separately, and found that they composed a whole, that might well be named "perfection" without a blot. The men said as much of Periander, and all agreed in praising highly the beauty of Constance and her brother.
They stayed in the city three days, during which the Corregidor and his lady showed every possible kindness to the pilgrims, and loaded them with gifts. They in return promised to send the history of their adventures, and of all that should befall them, to their kind friends.
They left Badajoz, and travelled on to our lady of Guadaloupe. After a journey of three days, in which they had gone five leagues, night overtook them on a mountain, which was covered with Ilexes, and other trees: it was that pleasant season of the year when there is an equal balance between the two equinoxes—neither too hot nor too cold—and in case of necessity, just as pleasant to spend the night in the open air as in a village; and therefore being far from any inn, it was Auristella's desire that it should be passed in one of the sheepfolds of the herdsmen that they saw were near. They did as she wished, and had hardly gone above two hundred steps into the wood, when the darkness came on so fast that they paused to look for the light that shone from the herdsmen's fold, which served as their polar star, for fear of losing their way; the extreme darkness, and a sound that was heard at a distance, made them slacken their pace, and the boy Antonio began to think of his bow, his constant companion; at this instant a man on horseback came up to them and said, "Good people, do you belong to this place?"
"Certainly not," answered Periander, "but to one very far distant; we are foreign pilgrims, going to Rome, but at present to Guadaloupe."
"If," said he of the horse, "there is charity and courtesy in foreign lands, there may also be compassionate souls from thence."