d'Almeida an inmate of the Jungueira prison, fromwhence the stern policy of the Prime Minister allowed few captives todepart, except to the scaffold and to death. Many an unfortunate victimof this iron despotism remained there year after year, demanding to bebrought to trial,--to be told of his crime,--to have the witness of hisguilt produced, but his petitions were unheard or disregarded; he might,if free, become dangerous, so he was allowed to pine on in chains, tilldeath, more kind than man, released him.
Luis sat disconsolate and sad in his narrow cell, with few happyremembrances of his past life to dwell on, and without a book towithdraw his mind from the melancholy present. For his own fate, comewhat might, he was prepared; but he thought of Clara, and there wasbitter anguish. He could now prove himself innocent of her brother'sdeath, but he was a prisoner, without a hope of escape, and within aweek, at furthest, perhaps at that very time she might be pronouncingthe fatal vow which would tear her from him for ever! The thoughtalmost drove him to madness--his feelings may be more easily picturedthan described. He felt that he was shrieking, but his voice gave forthno sound,--that he could dash himself against the door, but yet he sat,his hands clasped before him, without moving,--a statue of manly grief.
His meditations were interrupted by the opening of his prison door, andhis worthy friend, Fre Diogo Lopez, stood before him.
"Ah! my dear Count, you see I have not delayed long in fulfilling mypromise," began the Friar.
"I saw your young friend, and offered him such consolation as was in mypower, and now I have brought you a fresh bottle of wine, to keep upyour spirits. I offered him a little, but he could scarcely drink adrop. I fear he is going, poor youth."
"I much fear so too," answered Luis. "But tell me, have you found theletter to his father, you spoke of? It has been so wonderfullypreserved, that I fain would think it of importance."
"I have it here. Is not this it?" answered the Friar, producing a muchsoiled packet. "Read the superscription, for my eyes are dim, andcannot well decipher it."
"The same. Now will you undertake to forward this to Senhor GoncaloChristovao," said the Count.
"It will not have far to go, then, for he is a prisoner within thesewalls," answered the Friar.
"Merciful Heaven!" exclaimed Luis. "Then I may prove to him that I amnot the murderer of his son. Does he know that the poor youth is here?"
"I have not myself spoken to him, though it is almost impossible heshould discover it," replied the Friar.
"Then, in pity to all, contrive to let him see his dying son, and I,too, long to converse with him. It is the greatest favour you canafford me, next to one which I scarce dare hope for, to aid me in myescape."
The Friar shook his head--"Your last wish is impossible; the first Iwill endeavour to accomplish. You know not all the precautions taken toprevent escape. Were your life in danger, it might, perhaps, be done atthe risk of both our lives, or of perpetual imprisonment in someloathsome dungeon, to which, in comparison, this is a palace."
"For the purpose I have in view, I would risk death, torments, andimprisonment!" exclaimed Luis, vehemently. "Unless I succeed, all Ivalue in life is worthless. Within a few days from hence, Donna Clarade Christovao will be compelled to assume the veil, if I do not contriveto rescue her from the convent at Oporto, where she is confined. Ivowed to her to attempt it, and if she hears not of me, she will deem mefaithless, and yield without a struggle to her fate."
Fre Diogo smiled, as he shook his head. "You might as well attempt torescue the lamb from the talons of the eagle, as to carry off a fairgirl from the clutches of those who have her in their power," heanswered. "In any possible plan I would, if in my power, aid yougladly. But consider a moment. If you could escape from hence, whichis next to impossible, you manage to reach Oporto, though the chancesare, that you are recaptured before you arrive there;--you demand theyoung lady;--you are refused even an interview. You then contrive tolet her know you are in the neighbourhood;--she sends you word she isshut up, and cannot get out. Or suppose you have surmounted alldifficulties, and you have managed to carry her off; whither would youfly? In each direction the Minister has his spies, who would soonrestore you to your present abode, if not to a worse, and the lady toher convent. No, my dear Count, be advised by me, do not attempt animpossibility. You have but one course to pursue; practise yourpatience: when a man is at the bottom of a well, he cannot go lower."
"No, but he may be drowned, though, when the water flows in," said Luis,despondingly.
"Not if he knows how to swim," answered the Friar; "and then the water,which would destroy another, will be his preservation. Let that be yourconsolation."
"Alas! I fear your observations are too correct, and I must submit tomy fate," said Luis. "Can you, however, contrive to let me see GoncaloChristovao?"
"There will be no great difficulty, for since the execution, in someparts of the prison, the captives are allowed to communicate with eachother."
"Of what do you speak?" inquired Luis; and the Friar recounted to himthe dreadful tragedy which had taken place. "Alas!" he exclaimed, "andhas that gay and bold youth been a victim?" and while he shuddered, ashe recollected the risk he had run of sharing their fate, he thought hownobly young Joze de Tavora had behaved in not betraying him; for, as heheard, torture had been administered to extract confession.
"Come now with me," said the Friar, interrupting his thoughts. "Theturnkey waits without, and will, under my responsibility, allow you tovisit this old fidalgo, for his cell is close to this, I heard as I camehither."
"Then no delay!" exclaimed Luis, starting up; "I will this instantaccompany you."
The turnkey, on the representations of the Friar, was easily persuadedto allow them to pass, and enter the fidalgo's cell.
The old man started with terror, as he beheld them, fancying that theywere officers come to lead him to trial, or to death.
"Lead on, ye myrmidons of tyranny! I am prepared!" he exclaimed,rising.
"You are mistaken, senhor," said Luis. "I come as an old friend, afellow-prisoner, to offer such consolation as is in my power."
"Thanks, senhor, for your courtesy, but your name has escaped mymemory," said the Fidalgo, scanning him closely.
"Luis d'Almeida."
"What! the murderer of my son?--the destroyer of my daughter's peace?"
"Certainly not the murderer of your son, for he yet lives; and ratherwould I die a hundred deaths than cause one pang of grief to your fairdaughter."
"My son lives, say you?" exclaimed the Fidalgo. "Bring him hither,then, that I may embrace him before I am led forth to death."
"He lies himself upon a bed of sickness; but I trust, Senhor, to be ableto conduct you to him," answered Luis.
"In mercy then, without delay, let me hasten to my long-lost boy,"exclaimed the Fidalgo. "Is he within these cruel walls--a prisoner likeourselves?"--"He is, senhor, alas! and this good Friar will arrange aninterview, which will require some precaution," answered Luis; andturning to Fre Diogo, he requested him to learn from the gaoler, whenthey might visit the cell of the unfortunate youth.
"Pardon me, for the want of courtesy with which I received you, SenhorConde," said the Fidalgo, as soon as they were left alone. "I owe youmuch for the news you bring me; and my poor boy, does he know I am nearhim? and what crime has he committed to be confined within these walls?"
Luis described, in as few words as possible, the dreadful treatment hisson had suffered, and the fatal results he apprehended. We need notdescribe the father's grief, or his regrets for the manner in which hehad treated his guest; but his emotion was far greater, when, on Luispresenting the long-lost packet, he tore it open, and his eye hurriedover the contents.
"Great God! how have I been deceived in that man!" he cried, in a toneof agony. "My child, my sweet child! and thou hast been the sacrifice!Oh, for freedom, that I might hasten to rescue her from the bondage shedetests! A week hence, and her fate will have been sealed, when I,alas! shall h
ave no power to release her. And I--oh, how cruelly have Itreated her! Curses on the stern tyrant who thus detains me. He is afather, and did he know the cause, he would release me. No, the baseupstart would but smile the more to see the high-born fidalgo's agony.May Heaven's anger blast all the works in which he prides himself!May--ah! I am raving--oh! God, support me!"
Luis stood amazed at this sudden outbreak of the usually sedate anddignified fidalgo, though scarcely himself less agitated in hiseagerness to learn the contents of the letter, the purport of which thefidalgo's words appeared to intimate. The old man saw his inquiringgaze. "See," he
The Prime Minister Page 122