The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

by Deborah Alcock

  VI.

  Don Carlos forgets Himself still further

  "The not so very false, as falsehood goes,-- The spinning out and drawing fine, you know; Really mere novel-writing, of a sort, Acting, improvising, make-believe,-- Surely not downright cheatery!"--R. Browning.

  It cost Carlos some time and trouble to drive away the haunting thoughtswhich Losada's words had awakened. But he succeeded at length; orperhaps it would be more truthful to say the bright eyes and witchingsmiles of Dona Beatrix accomplished the work for him.

  Every dream, however, must have a waking. Sometimes a slight sound,ludicrously trivial in its cause, dispels a slumber fraught withwondrous visions, in which we have been playing the part of kings andemperors.

  "Nephew Don Carlos," said Don Manuel one day, "is it not time youthought of shaving your head? You are learned enough for your Orderslong ago, and 'in a plentiful house supper is soon dressed.'"

  "True, senor my uncle," murmured Carlos, looking suddenly aghast. "ButI am under the canonical age."

  "But you can get a dispensation."

  "Why such haste? There is time yet and to spare."

  "That is not so sure. I hear the cura of San Lucar has one foot in thegrave. The living is a good one, and I think I know where to go for it.So take care you lose not a heifer for want of a halter to hold it by."

  With these words on his lips, Don Manuel went out. At the same momentGonsalvo, who lay listlessly on a sofa at one end of the room, or rathercourt, reading "Lazarillo de Tormes," the first Spanish novel, burstinto a loud paroxysm of laughter.

  "What may be the theme of your merriment?" asked Carlos, turning hislarge dreamy eyes languidly towards him.

  "Yourself, amigo mio. You would make the stone saints of the Cathedrallaugh on their pedestals. There you stand, pale as marble, a livingimage of despair. Come, rouse yourself! What do you mean to do? Willyou take what you wish, or let your chance slip by, and then sit andweep because you have it not? Will you be a _priest_ or a _man_? Makeyour choice this hour, for one you must be, and both you cannot be."

  Carlos answered him not; in truth, he dared not answer him. Every wordwas the voice of his own heart; perhaps it was also, though he knew itnot, the voice of the great tempter. He withdrew to his chamber, andbarred and bolted himself in it. This was the first time in his lifethat solitude was a necessity to him. His uncle's words had broughtwith them a terrible revelation. He knew himself now too well; he knewwhat he loved, what he desired, or rather what he hungered and thirstedfor with agonizing intensity. No; never the priest's frock for him. Hemust call Dona Beatriz de Lavella his--his before God's altar--or die.

  Then came a thought, stinging him with sharp, sudden pain. It was athought that should have come to him long ago,--"Juan!" And with thename, affection, memory, conscience, rose up together within him tocombat the mad resolve of his passion.

  Fiery passions slumbered in the heart of Carlos. Such art sometimesfound united with a gentle temper, a weak will, and sensitive nerves.Woe to their possessor when they are aroused in their strength!

  Had Carlos been a plain soldier, like the brother he was tempted tobetray, it is possible he might have come forth from this terribleconflict still holding fast his honour and his brotherly affection. Itwas his priestly training that turned the scale. He had been taughtthat simple truth between man and man was a thing of little consequence.He had been taught the art of making a hundred clever, plausible excusesfor whatever he saw best to do. He had been taught, in short, everyspecies of sophistry by which, to the eyes of others, and to his ownalso, wrong might be made to seem right, and black to appear the purestwhite.

  His subtle imagination forged in the fire of his kindled passions chainsof reasoning in which no skill could detect a flaw. Juan had neverloved as he did; Juan would not care; probably by this time he hadforgotten Dona Beatriz. "Besides," the tempter whispered furtivelywithin him, "he might never return at all; he might die in battle." ButCarlos was not yet sunk so low as to give ear for a single instant tothis wicked whisper; though certainly he could not henceforth look forhis brother's return with the joy with which he had been wont toanticipate that event. But, in any case, Beatriz herself should be thejudge between them. And he told himself that he knew (how did he knowit?) that Beatriz preferred _him_. Then it would be only right and kindto prepare Juan for an inevitable disappointment. This he could easilydo. Letters, carefully written, might gradually suggest to his brotherthat Beatriz had other views; and he knew Juan's pride and his fierytemper well enough to calculate that if his jealousy were once aroused,these would soon accomplish the rest.

  Ere we, who have been taught from our cradles to "speak the truth fromthe heart," turn with loathing from the wiles of Carlos Alvarez, weought to remember that he was a Spaniard--one of a nation whose geniusand passion is for intrigue. He was also a Spaniard of the sixteenthcentury; but, above all, he was a Spanish Catholic, educated for thepriesthood.

  The ability with which he laid his plans, and the enjoyment which itsexercise gave him, served in itself to blind him to the treachery andingratitude upon which those plans were founded.

  He sought an interview with Fray Constantino, and implored from him aletter of recommendation to the imperial recluse at San Yuste, whosechaplain and personal favourite the canon-magistral had been. But thateloquent preacher, though warm-hearted and generous to a fault,hesitated to grant the request. He represented to Carlos that HisImperial Majesty did not choose his retreat to be invaded by applicantsfor favours, and that the journey to San Yuste would therefore be, inall probability, worse than useless. Carlos answered that he had fullyweighed the difficulties of the case; but that if the line of conduct headopted seemed peculiar, his circumstances were so also. He believedthat his father (who died before his birth) had enjoyed the specialregard of His Imperial Majesty, and he hoped that, for his sake, hemight now be willing to show him some kindness. At all events, he wassure of an introduction to his presence through his mayor-domo, Don LuisQuixada, lord of Villagarcia, who was a friend of their house. What hedesired to obtain, through the kindness of His Imperial Majesty, was aLatin secretaryship, or some similar office, at the court of the newking, where his knowledge of Latin, and the talents he hoped hepossessed, might stand him in good stead, and enable him to support,though with modesty, the station to which his birth entitled him. For,although already a licentiate of theology, and with good prospects inthe Church, he did not wish to take orders, as he had thoughts ofmarrying.

  Fray Constantino felt a sympathy with the young man; and perhaps therather because, if report speaks true, he had once been himself in asomewhat similar position. So he compromised matters by giving him ageneral letter of recommendation, in which he spoke of his talents andhis blameless manners as warmly as he could, from the experience of thenine or ten months during which he had been acquainted with him. Andalthough the attention paid by Carlos to his instructions had beenslight, and of late almost perfunctory, his great natural intelligencehad enabled him to stand his ground more creditably than many far morediligent students. The Fray's letter Carlos thankfully added to thenumerous laudatory epistles from the doctors and professors of Alcalathat he already had in his possession.

  All these he enclosed in a cedar box, which he carefully locked, andconsigned in its turn to a travelling portmanteau, along with a fairstock of wearing apparel, sufficiently rich in material to suit hisrank, but modest in colour and fashion. He then informed his uncle thatbefore he took Orders it would be necessary for him, in his brother'sabsence, to take a journey to their little estate, and set its concernsin order.

  His uncle, suspecting nothing, approved his plan, and insisted onproviding him with the attendance of an armed guard to Nuera, whither hereally intended to go in the first instance.