by Jan Potocki
Moro wormed his way into the confidence of young Antonino and promised to serve him in his love. He also managed to persuade Sylvia to listen to him, and he made her believe that I had a mistress in the neighbouring village. Sylvia was afraid to bring the matter up with me but she began to act in an unnatural way, which I attributed to a change in her feelings for me. Meanwhile Antonino, on Moro’s advice, had increased his attentions to Sylvia and went around with a satisfied air, which suggested to me that she was making him happy.
I had had no experience in dealing with intrigues of this sort, so I stabbed Sylvia and Antonino to death. The latter, who did not the at once, revealed Moro’s treachery to me. I sought out the wretch, my bloody dagger still in my hand. The sight of this terrified him. He fell to his knees and confessed that the Prince of Rocca Fiorita had paid him to do away with Sylvia and me and that he had joined my band with the intention of accomplishing that end. I stabbed him to death. Then I went to Messina and, having gained access to the principino’s house by means of a disguise, I dispatched him to the other world to join his henchman and my two other victims. Such was the end of my happiness and also of my glory. My courage now turned into an utter indifference for my own life, and as I manifested the same indifference for the lives of my comrades, I soon lost their trust. Since then I have become, I can assure you, the most ordinary of brigands.
Soon after, Testalunga died of pleurisy and his whole band broke up. My brothers, who knew Spain well, persuaded me to go there. At the head of a dozen men I went down to the Bay of Taormina and hid for three days. On the fourth we snatched a vessel, a snow, which carried us to the shores of Andalusia.
Although in Spain there was more than one mountain range which might have offered us favourable hiding-places, I chose the Sierra Morena and have not had cause to regret my decision. I captured two convoys of piastres and was responsible for a number of other feats on this scale.
In the end my successes caused offence at court. The Governor of Cadiz was ordered to take us dead or alive and sent out several regiments. But from another quarter the Sheikh of the Gomelez invited me to enter his service and allowed me to use these caves as a hiding-place. I had no hesitation in accepting.
The court in Granada did not want to admit defeat. So, seeing that we could not be found, it had two shepherds from the valley arrested, and hanged them under the names of Zoto’s two brothers. I was acquainted with the two men and know that they had committed several murders. It is said, however, that they were vexed at being hanged in our stead and that at night they get down from the gallows and cause all sorts of mischief. I have not been witness to this and do not know what comment to make about it. However, it is true that I have had occasion to go by the gallows at night, and when the moon has been out, I have noted that the hanged men were no longer there although by morning they had reappeared.
And that, my dear sirs, is the story you asked of me. I believe that my brothers, whose lives have not been so wild, would have more interesting tales to tell you, but they will not have the time as we are ready to embark and I have had firm orders that this should take place tomorrow morning.
*
Zoto withdrew, and fair Emina said in a sad voice, ‘That man is quite right. In any human life the time of happiness is very short. We have had three days here such as we may never see again.’
Supper was mournful and I hastened to say good-night to my cousins, for I hoped to see them again in my bedchamber and to be more successful in dispelling their melancholy.
They came back earlier than usual, and to my great delight carried their belts in their hands. The meaning of this gesture was not difficult to grasp. Emina took the trouble to explain it to me.
She said, ‘Dear Alphonse, you have set no limit to your loyalty to us. We wish to set no limit to our gratitude. We may be parted for ever. For other women this would be a reason to refuse you their favours. But we wish to live on in your memory, and even if the women whom you will meet in Madrid surpass us in beauty of mind or face, at least you will not find that they outdo us in love and passion. But you must renew your oath never to betray us, dear Alphonse, and swear also that whatever ill is said of us you will not believe it.’
I could not help laughing at this last request but promised what they wished and was rewarded with the sweetest caresses.
Then Emina continued, ‘My dear Alphonse, the relic around your neck bothers us. Couldn’t you take it off for a little while?’
I refused, but Zubeida had a pair of scissors in her hand and, holding them behind my neck, cut the ribbon from behind. Emina seized the relic and threw it into a crevice in the rock.
‘You can get it back tomorrow,’ she declared. ‘Meanwhile, put this tress of hair around your neck. It has been woven from my hair and that of my sister and the talisman which is attached to it wards off inconstancy in lovers, if anything is capable of doing such a thing.’
Then Emina pulled out a gold pin which held her hair in place and used it to close up the curtains around my bed tight together.
I shall do as she did and draw a veil over the rest of this scene. You need only know that my charming companions became my wives. There are doubtless cases where it is a crime violently to shed innocent blood, but there are others where such cruelty enhances innocence by making it appear in all its lustre. That is what happened to us. And I am led to conclude that my cousins played no real part in my dreams at the Venta Quemada.
Eventually our passions were spent and we lay peacefully together, when a fateful bell began to strike midnight. I could not repress a shiver of horror, and said to my cousins that I feared that some sinister event hung over us.
‘I fear so, too,’ said Emina. ‘The danger is near. But listen carefully to what I am now saying to you. Do not believe any ill that is spoken of us. Do not even believe the evidence of your eyes.’
At that moment the curtains of my bed were ripped open and I saw a man of majestic height standing there in Moorish dress. In one hand he held the Koran, in the other a sabre. My cousins threw themselves at his feet and said:
‘Oh mighty Sheikh of the Gomelez, forgive us.’
The sheikh replied in a terrible voice, ‘Adonde están los fajas?’2 Then he turned to me and said, ‘Damn you, Christian wretch. You have dishonoured the blood of the Gomelez. You must become a Muslim or die.’
I heard a ghastly howl and caught sight of Pacheco the demoniac making signs at me from the corner of the room. My cousins also saw him, and in a terrible rage they got up, took hold of him and dragged him out of the room.
‘Miserable Nazarene,’ continued the Sheikh of the Gomelez, ‘drink at a single draught the liquid contained in this cup or you will die a shameful death and your body will hang between those of Zoto’s brothers; it will be prey to the vultures and the plaything of the infernal spirits who will use it for their diabolical charades.’
It seemed to me that in such circumstances honour dictated that I should commit suicide. I cried out in anguish, ‘Oh father, in my place you would have done as I did.’
Then I took the cup and drained it at one draught. I felt a terrible pain and lost consciousness.
The Eighth Day
Since I have the honour of telling you this story, you will know that I did not die of the poison I thought I had drunk but only fainted, and I do not know how long I was unconscious. All I know is that I awoke under the gallows of Los Hermanos and this time came to my senses with a feeling of pleasure, for at least I had the satisfaction of knowing that I was not dead. Nor did I find myself lying between two hanged men. This time I was on their left, and to their right I saw another man who I thought had also been hanged as he looked dead and had a rope around his neck. But I soon realized that he was only sleeping and I woke him up.
When the stranger saw where he was, he started to laugh and said, ‘It must be admitted that in studying the cabbala one is subject to annoying delusions. Evil spirits can take on so many shapes that one does
n’t know whom one is dealing with.
‘But,’ he added, ‘why have I got a rope around my neck? I thought I had a tress of hair.’
Then he caught sight of me and said, ‘You are young for a cabbalist but you too have a rope around your neck.’
And so I did. I remembered that Emina had put a plait woven from her hair and that of her sister around my neck. And I did not know what to make of it.
The cabbalist stared at me for a moment and then said, ‘No, you are not one of us. Your name is Alphonse and your mother was a Gomelez. You are a captain in the Walloon Guards and you are brave but still a bit naïve. Never mind. We must get out of here and then we’ll see what is to be done.’
The gallows gate stood open and we went out. Once more I saw the accursed valley of Los Hermanos. The cabbalist asked me where I wanted to go. I told him that I had decided to take the road to Madrid.
‘Good,’ he said, ‘I am also going that way. But we will begin by taking a little nourishment.’
He pulled out of his pocket a gilt cup, a pot filled with an opiate substance and a crystal phial, which contained a brownish liquor. He put a spoonful of the opiate in the cup, added a few drops of the liquor and told me to drink it all down. He did not need to repeat his request for I was faint with hunger. The elixir was marvellous. I felt so much better that I did not hesitate to set out on our journey on foot, which I would have found very difficult to do otherwise.
The sun was already quite high in the sky when the ill-fated Venta Quemada came into view.
The cabbalist stopped and said, ‘There’s an inn where a very cruel trick was played on me last night. However, we shall have to venture into it. I have left some provisions there which will do us good.’
So we went into that terrible venta, and in the dining room we found a table ready laid, on which there was a partridge pâté with two bottles of wine. The cabbalist seemed to have a healthy appetite and he encouraged me by his example. If he had not, I do not think that I could have brought myself to eat anything, for all that I had seen over the last few days had so perplexed my mind that I no longer knew what I was doing, and if anyone had tried they could have made me doubt my own existence.
When we had eaten we went from room to room and came to where I had slept on the day I left Andújar. I recognized my miserable pallet bed, sat down on it and began reflecting on all that had happened to me and especially on the events in the caves. I did not forget that Emina had warned me not to believe any ill which might be said of her.
I was absorbed in these thoughts when the cabbalist pointed out to me something which was glinting between the loose-fitting planks of the floor. I looked more closely and saw that it was the relic which the two sisters had removed from my neck. I had seen them throw it into a crevice in the rock and now I discovered it in a gap in the floorboards. I began to believe that I had never left that damned inn, and the hermit, the inquisitor and Zoto’s brothers were so many ghostly apparitions produced by magical spells. Meanwhile with the help of my sword I recovered the relic and put it round my neck again.
The cabbalist started to laugh and said, ‘So it belonged to you, Señor caballero! If you slept here, I am not at all surprised that you woke up under the gallows. Never mind, we must be on our way and we will reach the hermitage this evening.’
We set out and were only half-way there when we met the hermit, who seemed to be finding great difficulty in walking. He caught sight of us from afar and shouted out, ‘Ah, my young friend, I was looking for you! Come back to the hermitage. Snatch your soul from Satan’s clutches! But first lend me your arm. I have exerted myself cruelly on your behalf.’
We rested for a while and then set off again. The old man could only keep up by leaning on one or the other of us in turn. Eventually we reached the hermitage.
The first thing I saw was Pacheco stretched out in the middle of the room. He seemed at death’s door, or rather his chest was racked by that terrible rattle which is the harbinger of imminent demise. I tried to speak to him but he did not recognize me.
The hermit took holy water, sprinkled it over the possessed man and said to him, ‘Pacheco, Pacheco, in the name of your Redeemer, I order you to tell me what happened to you last night.’
Pacheco shuddered, let out a long wail and spoke as follows:
PACHECO’S STORY
You were in the chapel, Father, and were intoning a litany when I heard a knocking on the door and a bleating which sounded exactly like our white nanny-goat. So I thought that it was she and that I had forgotten to milk her and she had come to remind me. It was all the more easy to think this as the same thing had really happened a few days before. So I went out of your hut and indeed saw our white nanny-goat with her back to me, showing me her swollen udders. I tried to get hold of her to perform the service she asked of me but she slipped through my hands and, repeatedly stopping and then running off, she led me to the edge of the precipice which is close to your hermitage.
When we reached the edge the white nanny-goat turned into a black billy-goat. I was very frightened by this transformation and tried to run back to where we live, but the goat cut off my retreat, and, rearing up on its hind legs and glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, it so frightened me that my senses froze.
Then the cursed goat started to butt me and push me back towards the precipice. When I reached the very edge it stopped to enjoy the sight of my mortal anguish. Then it pushed me over.
I thought that I would be dashed to pieces, but the goat reached the bottom of the pit before I did and I landed on its back without doing myself an injury.
New horrors soon assailed me. As soon as the cursed goat felt my weight on its back it galloped off in an extraordinary manner. It sprang at one single leap from one mountain top to the next, across deep, deep valleys as if they were mere ditches. In the end it shook itself and I fell somehow into the bottom of a cave. There I saw the young horseman who two days ago had slept at our hermitage. He was in his bed and beside him were two very beautiful girls dressed in Moorish clothes. These two young persons first caressed him, then removed from his neck a relic that was round it. As soon as they did this, their beauty vanished before my eyes and I saw them to be the two hanged men from the valley of Los Hermanos. But the young gentleman still took them to be beautiful young creatures and called them the most affectionate names. Then one of the two hanged men took the rope from around his neck and put it round the neck of the gentleman, who showed his gratitude by renewed caresses. In the end they shut the bed-curtains, and I do not know what they did next although I imagine that it was some horrible sin.
I tried to call out but could not make a sound. This lasted some time, then a bell struck midnight and soon after I saw a demon come in with fiery horns and a flaming tail, which was carried behind him by a number of little imps.
The demon held a book in one hand and a pitchfork in the other. He threatened to kill the young gentleman if he did not embrace the faith of Islam. Seeing this danger to a Christian soul, I made a great effort and think I was able to make myself understood, but at the same moment the two hanged men leapt on me, and dragged me out of the cave. There I found the black goat again. One of the two hanged men sat astride the goat, the other sat astride my neck and they forced us to gallop up hill and down dale.
The hanged man I was carrying on my neck kept poking me in the ribs with his claws, but on finding that I was still not fast enough for his taste he gathered up two scorpions as we ran along and attached them to his feet as though they were spurs. He then began to tear at my sides in a most barbarous way. When we at last reached the door of the hermitage he left me. That is where you found me lying unconscious this morning, Father. I thought I was saved when I woke up in your arms, but the scorpions’ venom has got into my bloodstream and is tearing at my entrails. I shall not survive.
At this point the possessed man let out a terrible howl and fell silent.
Then the hermit said to me, ‘My son, you have
heard what he has said. Is it possible that you had carnal knowledge of two demons? Come, confess! Admit your guilt! The mercy of God is infinite. What? No reply? Has your heart become hardened?’
After having thought for a moment I replied: ‘Father, this demoniacal gentleman saw things that I did not see. One of us has been bewitched. Perhaps both of us were suffering from delusions. But here is a gentleman, a cabbalist, who also slept at the Venta Quemada. If he will consent to tell us what happened perhaps we will gain new insight into the events which have been occupying us for the last few days.’
‘Señor Alphonse,’ replied the cabbalist, ‘people who, like me, concern themselves with the occult sciences cannot disclose everything. I will try, however, to satisfy your curiosity to the best of my ability. But not this evening. Let us now eat supper and go to bed. Tomorrow our imaginations will be less excitable.’
The hermit served us a frugal supper, after which everyone only thought of bed. The cabbalist claimed that he had good reasons for sleeping beside the possessed man. I was sent off to the chapel as before. My bed of moss was still there and I lay down on it. The hermit wished me good-night and warned me that he would lock the door on his way out for greater safety.
When I found myself alone I reflected on Pacheco’s story. I was sure that I had seen him in the caves and sure that I had seen my two cousins leap on him and drag him out of the bedchamber. But Emina had warned me not to think ill of her or her sister. In any case, the demons who had seized Pacheco could also have confused his mind and assailed him with all kinds of visions. I was still looking for reasons to justify my cousins and continue to love them when I heard midnight strike.
Soon after, I heard a knock at the door and what sounded like the bleating of a goat. I took my sword, went to the door and said in a loud voice, ‘If you are the devil, try opening the door, for the hermit has locked it.’