Patrañas; or, Spanish Stories, Legendary and Traditional

by Rachel Harriette Busk

  THE ADVENTURES OF DONA JOSEFA RAMIREZ Y MARMOLEJO.

  Dona Josefa Ramirez was the only child of noble parents ofValencia. She grew up in every virtue, and joined the wisdom ofa Minerva to the beauty of a Venus. She was hardly eighteen beforevarious noble youths were contending for her good graces; but of themall the only one she favoured was Don Pedro de Valenzuela, who, thoughof noble lineage, yet did not possess the fortune or position thather parents thought should entitle him who wedded with the descendantof the illustrious houses of Ramirez and Marmolejo.

  Little Dona Josefa did not think of all this; she was much attachedto her boyish playmate, and hoped that as her parents were very fondof her she would one day win their consent to receive his attentions;in the mean time, she thoughtlessly listened with great delight when hecame and sang a love song under her windows, and even, I am afraid,sometimes came to the reja [11] to give him a coy look of thanksand encouragement.

  One day, as the youthful Don Pedro de Valenzuela was thus pleasantlyoccupied, he had finished his song and was waiting to see if a pairof bright eyes would not come sparkling behind the reja, when, histhoughts being quite engrossed by this expectation, and his attentionabstracted from every thing around him, he suddenly found himselfattacked from behind by two men who were wrapt up in their cloaks andmasked so that he could not recognize them, nor indeed had he timeto think about it, for before he could even draw his sword they hadstretched him dead upon the ground; he could only cry out Josefa'sname, and expire.

  Dona Josefa was thrilled with dread at the tone in which her namewas uttered; it seemed to portend something dreadful, such as she hadnever known before. She flew to the window, and by what remained ofthe gloaming light, she saw her lover's body stretched lifeless on theground, while the assassins had escaped without leaving a trace behind.

  The terrible sight seemed to change Dona Josefa's nature: all herwoman's weakness was quenched within her, and every thought boundup in the one determination of avenging the precious life which hadbeen so cruelly sacrificed for love of her. She tore off her woman'sgear with the indignation of an enraged lioness, and arrayed herselfin a full cavalier's suit, with a montera [12] to cover her head andan ample cloak to hide her from scrutiny. Then she took a belt wellfurnished with arms, and a sword and blunderbuss to boot; and then apurse with two hundred doubloons; thus accoutred she wandered forthin quest of Don Pedro de Valenzuela's assassins, making her way inall haste out of Valencia, for she knew the assassins would not longhave remained there.

  Hiding herself in the mountains by day, and taking the mostunfrequented paths by night, she wandered on till she came to Murcia,and there she resolved to take up her abode for some little time torest, and also to learn what she might chance to hear.

  Here, in her cavalier's dress, she walked about on the promenades,joined knots of speakers in the public plazas, and at night satdown at the card-tables and other places of resort, every wherekeeping her ears open to drink in any word any one might let fallabout her lover's assassination. One night, as she was sitting at atable carelessly shuffling a pack of cards, she heard two gentlementalking very earnestly, and some words they dropped made her strainall her attention to catch the thread of their discourse.

  "Yes, they are gone on; I am sure of it; and some hours ago,"asseverated the first speaker, as if he had been contradicted before.

  "To be sure," rejoined the other, in a tone of yielding conviction;"it was not likely they should remain in the country. No doubt it isas you say."

  "Excuse me," said Dona Josefa, approaching the speakers with a courtlybow, for she could restrain her curiosity no longer, "but I thinkyou were speaking of some gentlemen of Seville.... I am of Seville,and----"

  "Of Valencia," politely rejoined the gentleman, fairly caught in thetrap. Had Josefa said she was of Valencia, his mouth would have beensealed for fear of betraying secrets.

  "Oh, indeed, of Valencia!" she continued, assuming a tone ofdisappointment; and then, after a moment's pause, she added, as ifindifferent, "I think you spoke as if concerned for some friendsin trouble?"

  "Oh, not friends," answered the person addressed, with a slightshudder; "we had but the most distant acquaintance with them; but theycalled on us yesterday to ask us to help them out of a difficulty."

  "Ah! that is very often the way of the world," replied Dona Josefa,for she felt she must keep the conversation going till she could getall the information she wanted, though scarcely seeing how to bringit to the right point without exciting suspicions. "I'll warrantnow it was a regular piece of Valencian roguery [13]; they came withsome pitiful pretence, begging, I'll be bound; and I dare say at thismoment are laughing at the ease with which their doleful story loosedyour purse-strings; ha, ha, ha!"

  The silvery laugh and biting tone of the young cavalier stungthe Murcians to the quick; it seemed a point of honour to justifythemselves from the censure of having been cajoled. The friend whohad all this time remained silent, not quite liking the freedom,but now completely reassured by the noble bearing, fair smooth brow,and perhaps also by the sad but winning glance of the young stranger,here joined in.

  "You have a fine knowledge of the world, young friend, and suchwise words do not often come from lips on which the hair is not yetgrown. Nevertheless there was no deception on this occasion: I neversaw men more blasted with fear and shame."

  "Ah!" pursued Josefa as carelessly as she could, for she saw she wasnow on the right track, "it is easy for a Valencian to assume a lookof shame."

  "But, man, these were not men used to shame; these were true men andgentlemen of blood--blood as blue as any blood in Spain."

  "Pshaw! they told you so!" rejoined Josefa with an incredulous shrug,which she knew must bring out the names.

  "Why it was no less than Don Leonardo and Don Gaspar Contreras!" brokein the other speaker.

  "Don Leonardo and Don Gaspar Contreras!" ejaculated Josefa, this timehardly master of her contending emotions; yet knowing the importanceof playing her part to the end, she added in a tone of thunderingindignation,--

  "And you can stand there and tell me that Don Leonardo and Don GasparContreras came before you bowed with a look of shame,--to beg alms?"

  "Even so, fair sir," rejoined the Murcians; "and if you still havedoubts you can go to Valencia, and seek for them; you will not findthem there."

  "And pray, sir, why should I not find Don Leonardo and Don GasparContreras in their noble palacio at Valencia?"

  "Because they dare not show their faces there," replied one.

  "Because they are at this moment riding for their lives to the seacoast, and you would be more likely to find them at Cartagena,"exclaimed the other at the same moment.

  Josefa had now learnt pretty well all she desired to know;nevertheless, to make quite sure of her facts, she sat down again,pushing chairs towards the Murcians, and continued in a more pacificand friendly tone,--

  "You must excuse me, gentlemen, if the idea of coupling shame withthe name of Contreras came upon me as so strange and unaccountable aconjunction, that I could not bring myself to accept it at first; butI am fain to take it on your honourable testimony. But pray tell me,what can have happened to bring this about? I have a cousin married toa Contreras, and whatever affects the honour of their house affectsmy own. It must have been some terrible necessity reduced them tothis plight."

  "The old story--jealousy working in ill-regulated minds!" answered theelder speaker. "It seems Valencia possesses some monster of beauty,which has turned the hearts of all her cavaliers."

  "Dona Josefa Ramirez y Marmolejo!" interposed the younger Murcianapologetically, as though he thought it a reproach not to have thename of the beauty of the day on the tip of his lips.

  "Well, the young lady, it seems, preferred to every one else ofValencia a certain Don Pedro de Valenzuela----"

  Josefa had managed to preserve her composure, in spite of her emotionat hearing her attractions canvassed by the two strangers, but atmention of Don Pedro's name the bloo
d fairly left her cheeks. To hideher embarrassment, she dropped her glove and stooped to pick it up,till she had summoned the colour back.

  "The other gallants," continued the speaker, not heeding theinterruption, "were the more nettled at this, that he was not of sohigh estate as they----"

  Josefa could hardly refrain from exclaiming that he was better thanall of them put together; but she coughed and bit her lip, and by asupreme effort kept the tears out of her eyes.

  "And when they found they were slighted, while he was allowed to comeand strum night after night at the reja, they grew furious. Nonewere more indignant than the two cousins Leonardo and Gaspar deContreras. One night, as they were passing casually by Dona Josefa'shouse, and saw Don Pedro standing under the window, basking inthe smiles of the lady, while they had to wander by as unrecognizedoutcasts, their blood was up, and without reflection or premeditation,they set upon him there and then, without calling upon him to defendhimself, and killed him like a----"

  "But what ails you, fair sir?" ejaculated the speaker, as he observedpoor Josefa making vain efforts to look indifferent, and tremblingfrom head to foot.

  "Nothing, sir, thank you," stammered Josefa bravely; "the wind is highto-night. With your permission I will e'en close this window." Themoment's seclusion from the company, and the gasp of air thus gained,enabled her to appear once more a not too eager listener.

  "I can now understand why the Contreras are running away like--dogs,"she replied, not without some little display of feeling, for sheburned to bandy back against the assassins the epithet which, thoughit had not been breathed, had so nearly been applied to her lover.

  A very little more talk elicited that the cousins expected to find aship sailing from Cartagena in three days; in the mean time they weremaking the best of their way to the coast. Worn out with the longtension of suppressed emotion, Josefa was glad to retire as soon asthere was a break in the conversation.

  Next morning she purchased a horse, fleet as the wind, and arrivedthe same night at Cartagena; and here she once more set to work tofind out the retreat of the assassins. In this, fortune again favouredher. For having placed her horse in a stable, and hired a room in theprincipal inn for herself, she sat down beside an open window, whileshe thought upon the plan to pursue. As she sat here, her attentionwas arrested by a conversation going on between two men seated undera leafy parral [14], which effectually concealed her from their sight.

  "Where are you going to-night, so finely arrayed?" inquired one ofthe voices.

  "Where every one is going," responded the other; "to the house ofDon Juan Mancilla, for he gives a right noble banquet in honour oftwo guests he has staying with him, natives of Valencia. He is togive a representation of a comedy, and many other fine things."

  Dona Josefa held her breath, and leant further out of the window.

  "Something I heard of their arrival yesterday morning," rejoined thefirst voice. "But why all this haste? Methinks the comedy would havebeen the better got up for one or two days' rehearsal."

  "Ah, but you see, the Valencians take ship at half-past twelve thisvery night," replied the other; and then in a lower key, "They areeven now running from Valencia for some charge of a duel there----"

  "Hold, man, hold!" warily ejaculated the first voice; "who knows whomay overhear you?"

  Dona Josefa had overheard enough; her work now up to half-past twelvewas but to learn the situation of Don Juan Mancilla's house, and theway thence to the harbour; no difficult task, for Don Juan Mancilla'swas one of the first names in Cartagena; and near the landing-placeshe met a garrulous servant of the Contreras, who was easily led tospeak of his masters' movements. Between the two points lay an alameda,or promenade, planted with poplars, such as adorns the outskirts ofevery Spanish town, affording a most convenient spot for the rencontrefor which she had now with beating heart to lie in wait.

  The tress which on that last sad night she had severed from herlover's fair young head, and which now alone remained of him who hadbeen all to her, in her hand, she paced backwards and forwards underthe pollard poplars, like a knight keeping watch before a sacredshrine. Her thoughts wrapt in the absorbing memories of the past,and the fantastic part fate had assigned to herself, she had takenno note of how the hours had sped by, and when the clocks chimed outthe hour of mid-night, it came upon her as a sudden warning. Not manyminutes more had elapsed, before she perceived two cavaliers advancingtowards her, whom her eye, practised by long acquaintance, readilyrecognized as the game she had come so far to seek. Their loud talk,swaggering mien, lofty stature, and moreover the clanking of theirswords as they walked, reminding that in Valencia the Contreras borethe reputation of the most accomplished fencers of all the countryround, might have made a less resolute heart faint even then, andgive up the enterprise. But Dona Josefa never flinched. With one footfirmly planted on the path, and resting on the other as a kind of prop,placed in position to support her against any attempt to thrust heraside, she stood firmly and calmly waiting their approach.

  "Don Leonardo, and you, Don Gaspar Contreras!" she said, as soon asthey had advanced within hearing, "know ye, who I am?"

  "Another time, good friend," said Don Leonardo impatiently, and triedto pass on.

  "We are pressed, and have but time to join our ship," said Don Gaspar;and he endeavoured, though not without courtesy, to make his waypast her.

  "You must hear me, Senores de Contreras," rejoined Dona Josefa ina hollow voice; "and when you have heard me, you will never want aship more."

  "Come, this is more than pleasantry!" exclaimed Don Leonardo,getting angry.

  "Make way, good sir; you see we are pressed for time," said Don Gaspar,more conciliatingly; for he felt it was no time for picking a quarrel.

  "It is no pleasantry, indeed!" Dona Josefa had replied almost beforehe spoke; "but most serious earnest. Senores de Contreras, again I ask,Do you know me?"

  "What does this trifling mean?" exclaimed Don Leonardo, hotly, andat the same time putting his hand on his sword.

  "It means," replied Josefa, calmly and solemnly--"It means that you arecalled to answer with your vile lives for the noble life of Don PedroValenzuela, whom you treacherously slew without so much as calling onhim to draw. My sword is the sword of justice, not of the assassin;yet I call on you to defend yourselves, if you dare!"

  "Good sir, you rave; we are not those you seek; and we know not whoyou are!" interposed Don Gaspar, putting his hand on Don Leonardo'ssword-arm, for he had already drawn.

  "I have twice asked you if you do not know me," answered Josefa. "Now,then, I tell you: I am Dona Josefa Ramirez y Marmolejo. Have I nota right to avenge the blood of Don Pedro Valenzuela?"

  "Ho! ho! so brave anon, you would now make this pretence of womanhooda shield. Methinks your tongue knows not the timidity of woman,and that your arms are no woman's toys," blurted out Don Leonardocontemptuously, despite of Don Gaspar's warnings.

  "Draw! Don Leonardo," commanded Josefa; "nor waste more time inwords. I seek no quarter, nor--give any!"

  "At you then!" exclaimed Don Leonardo, rendered furious by herimpassibility, and breaking away from Don Gaspar's hold.

  Josefa awaited his onset firmly, her drawn sword extended in her hand,like a statue of the avenging angel. Don Leonardo rushing at her,blind with rage, thrust himself right upon her rapier, which piercedhim through and through; and, before he had time to utter a cry,he fell a lifeless corpse at Don Gaspar's feet.

  Don Gaspar, who had no idea that there was any truth in Josefa'sdeclaration of her sex, felt no inclination to measure his swordagainst so successful an antagonist; but, in order not to appear toavoid the fray ignominiously, bent down and busied himself with theeffort to remove the body of his cousin.

  "It is your turn now, Don Gaspar!" said the avenging angel calmly,having just withdrawn her sword from the breast of her prostratevictim. "Stand on guard, for your hour has come!"

  This confident assertion, and the conviction that the encountercould not be escaped
, excited Don Gaspar almost to the same pitch ofindignation as Don Leonardo had displayed, notwithstanding that hewas by nature less irascible.

  "Think not to find so easy a victory a second time!" he exclaimed.

  "It matters little," replied the lady calmly; "you have killed mylife already, when you killed Don Pedro!"

  While she was yet speaking, Don Gaspar had already rushed to theencounter; and she, standing with her trusty sword prepared to meethim, sent his body to measure the ground, and his soul to its account,after the same manner that she had served Don Leonardo.

  Meantime the bandying of angry words and the clash of steel had notbeen unheard by the guests, who were even then traversing the alameda,as the banquet of Don Juan Mancilla broke up. Quickly as the contesthad been carried through there was still time for many persons toassemble, and there was every chance of Josefa being caught and handedover to justice. All sank away, however, before the high and innocentglance of her flashing eyes and the noble mien, which stood suretyhers had been no vulgar aim.

  "The Sanctuary of S. Francis may yet be reached," whispered an oldnobleman, who perceived at a glance that the young stranger belongedto his order, which he had rather not see subjected to the ordealof a public inquisition. "Here, boy, follow me. Courage!" he added,as he observed she had hardly energy left to move from the spot;"we shall soon be there."

  Dona Josefa, so courageous anon, felt palsied at the sight of theadvancing strangers, and the apprehension of having all her motionsand manoeuvres sifted in the vulgar sieve of public opinion. Sheknew what she had done could only be judged and appreciated by thefew who had felt what she had felt. This very terror at last nervedher to take the old man's counsel; and so, wrapping her wide cloakaround her, she followed at a little distance, delicacy promptingher to avoid appearing to belong to him, so that he might not becompromised through his good-nature. All those who were about atthe time were men of similar position, who judged that the courseadopted was the wisest, and so Josefa and her guide proceeded totheir journey's end without molestation. Arrived at the church door,the old nobleman pointed to the entrance and passed on his way.

  Josefa began to explain to an old Brother who kept the door themisadventure which had brought her thither, but it was more than shecould do to conclude the narrative, her feeble powers were alreadyoverstrained, and she sank fainting at his feet. For several days shewas carefully tended in the hospital; and one day, when the noiseof the affair had blown over, and the knowledge that she had takenrefuge in the Sanctuary had quieted the pursuit of justice, she senta messenger to the inn to fetch the swift courser she had left thereon arriving, and under favour of the darkness of the evening set outto return to Valencia.

  She had travelled a considerable distance without accident, whensuddenly she perceived three travellers coming towards her; the moonshone brightly, and her keen eyes, quickened by natural feminineapprehension, were not slow to make out that they were of the kindmost unwelcome under the circumstances, though to meet any one wasawkward enough.

  She had no time to consider what she should do, for the strangerswere advancing at a rapid pace; nor were they slow to declare theircharacter. The chief called out to her before they had even come up,to 'stand and deliver.' The only circumstance in her favour was thatthey stood on the narrow ledge of a mountain path, the one closelypacked behind the other as one man.

  "It is idle to attempt to resist us, young gallant," cried the leaderas he saw her draw her sword; "we are too many for one even as valiantas I dare say you fancy yourself; besides, there are more of us behindwho will soon be up."

  Dona Josefa uttered no boast, she took up a firm position; her finewell-tempered rapier extended in her hand received them on its point,and threaded them through as they came, one behind the other.

  But, alack! the strong men, in the contortions of their last agony,overstepped the narrow footing of the path, and fell over the brink,carrying in their bodies the trusty sword which had stood her in suchgood stead.

  "There are more of us behind who will soon be up!" she repeated toherself, as with dogged determination she still held up against hermisfortunes, and proceeded on her way for a wind or two of the pathwithout disturbing incidents. One more turn and there stood beforeher three more bandits in the same order as the last. She had hertrabuco [15] ready to aim, and her aim was so steady, that beforethey had time to perceive her purpose, her ball had pierced throughthe three of them, and they were sent rolling over the precipice,to join the bodies of their companions below.

  Whether Josefa thought that these exploits might bring her into freshconflict with the arm of the law, or whether the fresh horrors gavea gloomy turn to her mind, and indisposed her for venturing home, Iknow not; but whatever her motive, she made up her mind at this pointof the journey to continue her wanderings only as far as Barcelona,and there take ship to make a pilgrimage to Rome.

  The sea was not much more propitious to poor Dona Josefa's fortunesthan the land had been. The vessel on which she had embarked had notbeen two days out before it was attacked by Algerine Corsairs, whotook every soul on board prisoners, and carried them off to Africa,where they were sold as slaves.

  It fell to Josefa's lot to be bought by a rich renegade of Tunis,whom she served under the name of Pedro, a name she deemed she hada certain right to take. The renegade was much pleased with hersoft discreet manners, and general superiority and uprightness ofcharacter; and soon advanced her to the post of steward over hishousehold, having her first instructed in the Arabic tongue. Thingswent smoothly enough for some time; but when she had been in thisservice about three years, it happened that one day, when the masterwas gone out hunting, a maid-servant, who held a high place in thehousehold, and whose forwardness the supposed Pedro had often noticed,came and made a free confession of an irrepressible affection for him,and entreated him to marry her. Josefa, much annoyed at the incident,could only answer that it was impossible: for she had not confidencein the girl to trust her with her secret.

  The enraged girl, furious at the repulse, swore by Mahomet to berevenged; accordingly, no sooner was the master returned, than shewent to him with every token of distress and indignation, and accusedPedro of abusing his power as steward of the house, and having soughtto force her to marry him although she had resisted because he wasa Christian, and the law of Mahomet forbade such an union.

  The master, highly incensed at the perfidy of the slave he had treatedwith so much forbearance and indulgence, ordered him to be throwninto a dungeon and starved to death, without hearing any defence.

  Such would indeed have been Josefa's fate, but that one of the slaveswho respected her brought her daily the scanty means of subsistenceshe was able to secure. At the end of several days the master, comingto the dungeon to see what had befallen, was greatly provoked tofind her not only alive but comparatively well, and took up a cordto administer summary chastisement.

  This indignity was more than Josefa could endure; to avert it, shebegged him to listen to her; told him she could easily prove thefalsity of the accusation under which she was suffering, seeing shewas a woman.

  The master was delighted to hear the exculpation of his favouriteslave, and immediately had her released and reinstated in herauthority, and the shameless accuser consigned to the same prison.

  From this time he continued to extend his favour and confidence towardsher: of all the people about him who shared his pleasures and hisriches, she was the only one to whom he could talk of the absorbingagony of his soul, the remorse for having renounced his religion andbecome a renegade. The result was that he one day announced to herthat he had made arrangements for realizing the greater part of hisfortune, which he divided in two parts, one of which he bestowed onher; with the other he had resolved to go to Rome in pilgrimage andendow a shrine, where he would pass the remainder of his days inprayer and penance.

  He had found a merchant of his acquaintance who would take themin his ship to Alicante, whence he would start again for Rome, andJosefa
would be free either to continue her journey thither or returnto Valencia.

  Josefa's desire of once more embracing her parents made her elect thelatter course. Their plan was executed to the letter without hindrance.

  Arrived once more at Valencia, Josefa was not slow to find her wayto her father's palace. An old servant who had been in the housebefore she was born, and watched her grow up, opened the door, butdid not recognize her, which she took for a presage that she mightcome unknown into her parents' presence also.

  She found them seated side by side, and bewailing the loss of theironly child.

  "I have come to tell you," she broke in, "that your child is now inthis very city; three years and a half she has been a captive slavein Tunis, though not serving as a slave, for she was absolute masterof the household of her owner. And at the end of that time he gaveher her liberty together with a large fortune in money."

  "Oh, sir, tell us where is she!" ejaculated Don Juan Ramirez;"let our aged eyes rest on her again before we die, so shall we beconsoled for our troubles!"

  Then Dona Josefa threw off her disguise, and falling on her kneesbefore them, entreated their pardon for all her errors and all theanxiety she had given them.

  Having received that, she told them she had determined to pass therest of her days in penitence in a convent, which she did with theirhearty approval; and in this kind of life she spent many years,affording a lively and edifying example to all. And thus ended inpeace the tragic adventures of Dona Josefa Ramirez y Marmolejo.