Chapter I.
ACT OF FAITH.
"How is it possible for people beholding that glorious Body toworship any Being but Him who created it!"
Upon the stroke of nine the procession filed forth into the Square.It was headed by about a hundred Dominican friars, bearing the bannerof their founder. The banner displayed a Cross betwixt an olive treeand a sword, with the motto _Justitia et Misericordia_.
After the Dominicans walked five penitents; each with a sergeant, orFamiliar, attending. Two of the five wore black mitres, three werebareheaded. All walked barefoot, clad in black sleeveless coats, andeach carried a long wax candle. These had escaped the extremesentence; and after them came one, a woman, who had escaped it also,but narrowly and as by fire. In token of this her black robe waspainted over with flames, having their points turned downward.Close behind followed three men on whose san-benitos the flamespointed upward. These were being led to execution, and two of themwho carried boards on their breasts, painted with dogs and serpents,were to die by fire for having professed doctrines contrary to theFaith; the third, who carried no board, was a "Relapsed," and mightlook forward to the privilege of being strangled before being cast tothe flame. To each of these three was assigned, in addition to theFamiliar, a couple of Jesuit priests, to walk beside him and exhorthim.
The man who was to be strangled came through the gateway of theInquisition Office with his gaze bent to the ground, apparentlyinsensible to the mob of sightseers gathered in the Square.The doomed man who followed--a mere youth, and, by his face,a Jew--stared about him fiercely and eagerly. The third was an oldman, with ragged hair and beard, and a complexion bleached by longimprisonment in the dark. He halted, blinking, uncertain how toplant his steps. Then, feeling rather than seeing the sun, hestretched up both arms to it, dropping his taper, calling aloud asmight a preacher, "How is it possible for people, beholding thatglorious Body, to worship any Being but Him who created it!"
A Jesuit at his side flung an arm across the old man's mouth; and asquickly the Familiar whipped out a cloth, pulled his head back, andgagged him. The young Jew had turned and was staring, still with hisfierce, eager look. He was wheeled about and plucked forward.
Next through the gateway issued a troupe of Familiars on horseback,some of them nobles of the first families in Portugal; after them theInquisitors and other Officers of the Court upon mules; last of all,amid a train of nobles, the Inquisitor-General himself on a whitehorse led by two grooms: his delicate hands resting on the reins, hisface a pale green by reason of the sunlight falling on it through asilken scarf of that colour pendant over the brim of his immenseblack hat.
All this passed before Ruth's eyes, and close, as she sat in themule-chaise beside Sir Oliver. She would have drawn the leatherncurtains, but he had put out a hand forbidding this.
She could not at any rate have escaped hearing the old man'sexclamation; for their chaise was jammed in the crowd beside thegateway. Her ears still kept the echo of his vibrant voice; almostshe was persuaded that his eyes had singled her out from the crowd.
--And why not? Had not she, also, cause to know what cruelties menwill commit in the name of religion?
Her heart was wrathful as well as pitiful. Her lord had given her nowarning of the auto-da-fe, and she now suspected that in suggestingthis Sunday morning drive he had purposely decoyed her to it.Presently, as the crowd began to clear, he confirmed the suspicion.
"Since we are here, we may as well see the sp--" He was going to say"sport," but, warned by a sudden stiffening of her body, he correctedthe word to "spectacle." "They erect a grand stand on theseoccasions; or, if you prefer, we can bribe them to give room for thechaise."
He bent forward and called to the coachman, "Turn the mules' heads,and follow!"
"Indeed I will not," she said firmly. "Do you go--if such crimesamuse you. . . . For me, I shall walk home."
He shrugged his shoulders. "It is the custom of the country. . . .But, as for your walking, I cannot allow it for a moment. Juan shalldrive you home."
She glanced at him. His eyes were fixed on the opposite side of thesquare, and she surprised in them a look of recognition not intendedfor her. Following the look, she saw a chaise much like their own,moving slowly with the throng, and in it a woman seated.
Ruth knew her. She was Donna Maria, Countess of Montalagre; and oflate Sir Oliver's name had been much coupled with hers.
This Ruth did not know; but she had guessed for some time that he wasunfaithful. She had felt no curiosity at all to learn the woman'sname. Now an accident had opened her eyes, and she saw.
Her first feeling was of slightly contemptuous amusement.Donna Maria, youthful wife of an aged and enfeebled lord, passed forone of the extremely devout. She had considerable beauty, but of anorder Ruth could easily afford to scorn. It was the _bizarrerie_ ofthe affair that tickled her, almost to laughter--Donna Maria'sdown-dropt gaze, the long lashes veiling eyes too holy-innocent foraught but the breviary; and he--he of all men!--playing the lover tothis little dunce, with her empty brain, her narrow religiosity!
But on afterthought, she found it somewhat disgusting too.
"I thank you," she said. "Juan shall drive me home, then. It willnot, I hope, inconvenience you very much, since I see the Countess ofMontalagre's carriage across the way. No doubt she will offer you aseat."
He glanced at her, but her face was cheerfully impassive.
"That's an idea!" he said. "I will run and make interest with her."
He alighted, and gave Juan the order to drive home. He lifted hishat, and left her. She saw Donna Maria's start of simulatedsurprise. Also she detected, or thought she detected, the slytriumph of a woman who steals a man.
All this she had leisure to observe; for Juan, a Gallician, was by nomeans in a hurry to turn the mules' heads for home. He had slewedhis body about, and was gazing wistfully after the throng.
"Your Excellency, it would be a thousand pities!"
"Hey?"
"There has not been a finer burning these two years, they tell me.And that old blasphemer's beard, when they set a light to it! . . .I am a poor Gallego, your Excellency, and at home get so few chancesof enjoyment. Also I have dropped my whip, and it is trodden on,broken. In the crowd at the Terreiro de Paco I may perchance borrowanother."
Ruth alighted in a blaze of wrath.
"Wretched man," she commanded, "climb down!"
"Your Excellency--"
"Climb down! You shall go, as your betters have gone, to feed youreyes with these abominations. . . . Nay, how shall I scold you, whodo what your betters teach? But climb down. I will drive the mulesmyself."
"His Excellency will murder me when he hears of it. But, indeed, wasever such a thing heard of?" Nevertheless the man was plainly in twominds.
"It is not for you to argue, but to obey my orders."
He descended, still protesting. She mounted to his seat, and tookthe reins and whip.
"The brutes are spirited, your Excellency. For the love of God havea care of them!"
For answer she flicked them with the whip--he had lied about thebroken whip--and left him staring.
The streets were deserted. All Lisbon had trooped to the auto-da-fe.If any saw and wondered at the sight of a lady driving like a mere_bolhero_, she heeded not. The mules trotted briskly, and she keptthem to it.
She had ceased to be amused, even scornfully. As she drove up theslope of Buenos Ayres--the favourite English suburb, where his villastood overlooking Tagus--a deep disgust possessed her. It darkenedthe sunshine. It befouled, it tarnished, the broad and noble mirrorof water spread far below.
"Were all men beasts, then?"
Lady Good-for-Nothing: A Man's Portrait of a Woman Page 43