Then, breaking up the audience, he remained for a time in conference with a few of the chief officers, debating subjects of great importance, but which would be of no interest to the readers of this history.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Some two hours after nightfall, as the unhappy Lerma lay in darkness and solitude, (for Befo was no longer permitted to be his companion,) the door of the prison opened, and the Alguazil, Villafana, entered, bearing a lantern, which emitted just sufficient light to allow his features to be distinguished, together with what seemed a flask of wine—a luxury now to be occasionally obtained, since vessels arrived not unfrequently from the islands.
"How now, what cheer, señor?" he exclaimed, setting down the flask upon the table, and turning the light full upon Juan's face; "are you saying your prayers? Here's that shall give you better comfort,—something from the vineyards of Xeres de la Frontera,—stout Sherry, that shall make your heart bounce, were it broken twice over.—Come, faith, it will make you merry."
"I shall never be merry more," said Juan; "and why should I? It is better I should not. I thank you for your good-will, Villafana; but I would that, instead of this wine, if it be not contrary to your duty, you would fetch me the good father Olmedo, to finish the confession, begun upon the block, and so abruptly interrupted, this morning."
"Pho, be not in such a hurry: you have time enough. The priest is busy, and knowing he must shrive you to-morrow, he will be ill inclined to trouble himself superfluously to-night. Come, sit up, drink, laugh, and curse thy foes. Come, now,—a merry God's blessing! may you live a thousand years!—Dzoog! bah! dzoog!—Now could I fight seven tigers!"
"It is better thou shouldst drink it than I," said Juan, observing the strong and somewhat fantastic gestures with which the Alguazil expressed his approbation, after having taken a hearty draught of the liquor; "yet bethink thee, Villafana,—"
"'Slid!" interrupted the jailer, "bethink thyself! and bethink thee that this will make thee a good fellow of a warhorse mettle, whereas, now, thou art but a sick lambkin. What makes a beggar a king, hah? a tailor's 'prentice a Cid Ruy Diaz of Castile,—a doughty Campeador? Pho, there is more of this, and to-morrow it will flow: Dost thou not know, Don Demonios, our king, has invited us to a banquet to-morrow? Thou shalt hear this banquet spoken of for a thousand years. Ah, the good ship! the good ship! there is a better thing she brings us than wine.—But that is neither here nor there. Why dost thou not drink?"
"Am I not condemned to death for the infraction of a decree?" said Juan, somewhat sternly, for he thought he perceived in Villafana's levity a symptom of undue excitement; "and dost thou not remember that there is a decree also against drunkenness? Thou hast suffered somewhat from this already."