IX.
El Dorado found
"So, the All-Great were the all-loving too-- So, through the thunder comes a human voice, Saying, O heart I made, a heart beats here! Face my hands fashioned, see it in myself! Thou hast no power, nor mayest conceive of mine; But love I gave thee with myself to love, And thou must love me who have died for thee!"--R. Browning
Three silent months stole away in the old castle of Nuera. No outwardevent affecting the fortunes of its inmates marked their progress. Andyet they were by far the most important months Don Carlos had ever seen,or perhaps would ever see. They witnessed a change in him, mysteriousin its progress but momentous in its results. An influence passed overhim, mighty as the wind in its azure pathway, but, like it, visible onlyby its effects; no man could tell "whence it cometh or whither itgoeth."
Again it was early morning, a bright Sunday morning in September.Already Carlos stood prepared to go forth. He had quite discarded hisstudent's habit, and was dressed like any other young nobleman, in adoublet and short cloak of Genoa velvet, with a sword by his side. HisBreviary was in his hand, however, and he was on the point of taking uphis hat when Dolores entered the room, bearing a cup of wine and amanchet of bread.
Carlos shook his head, saying, "I intend to communicate. And you,Dolores," he added, "are you not also going to hear mass?"
"Surely, senor; we will all attend our duty. But there is still time tospare; your worship sets us an example in the matter of early rising."
"It were shame to lose such fair hours as these. Prithee, Dolores, andlest I forget, hast thou something savoury in the house for dinner!"
"Glad I am to hear you ask, senor. Hitherto it has seemed alike to jourExcellency whether they served you with a pottage of lentils or a stewof partridges. But since Diego had the good fortune to kill that buckon Wednesday, we are better than well provided. Your worship shall dineon roast venison to-day."
"That will do. And if thou wouldst add some of the batter ware, inwhich thou art so skilful, it would be better still; for I intend tobring home a guest."
"Now, the Saints help me, that is news! Without meaning offence, yourworship might have told me before. Any noble caballero coming to theseparts to visit you must needs have bed as well as board found him. Andhow can I, in three hours, more or less--"
"Nay, be not alarmed, Dolores; no stranger is coming here. Only I wishto bring the cura home to dinner."
Even the self-restrained Dolores could not repress an exclamation ofsurprise. For both the brothers had been accustomed to regard theignorant vulgar cura of the neighbouring village with unmitigateddislike and contempt. In old times Dolores herself had sometimes triedto induce them to show him some trifling courtesies, "for their soul'shealth." They were willing enough to send "that beggar"--as Don Juanused to call him--presents of meat or game when they could, but thesethey would not have grudged to their worst enemy. To converse with him,or to seat him at their table, was a very different matter. He was "nofit associate for noblemen," said the boys; and Dolores, in her heart,agreed with them. She looked at her young master to see whether he werejesting.
"He likes a good dinner," Carlos added quietly. "Let us for once givehim one."
"In good faith, Senor Don Carlos, I cannot tell what has come to you.You must be about doing penance for your sins, though I will say noyoung gentleman of your years has fewer to answer for. Still, to pleaseyour whim, the cura shall eat the best we have, though beans and baconwould be more fitting fare for him."
"Thank you, mother Dolores," said Carlos kindly. "In truth, neither DonJuan nor I had ever whim yet you did not strive to gratify."
"And who would not do more than that for so pleasant and kind a youngmaster?" thought Dolores, as she withdrew to superintend the cookingoperations. "God's blessing and Our Lady's rest on him, and in sooth Ithink they do. Three months ago he came here looking like a corpse outof the grave, and fitter, as it seemed to me, to don his shroud than hispriest's frock. But the free mountain air wherein he was born isbringing back the red to his cheek and the light to his eye, thank theholy Saints. Ah, if his lady mother could only see her gallant sonsnow!"
Meanwhile Don Carlos leisurely took his way down the hill. Havingabundance of time to spare, he chose a solitary, devious path throughthe cork-trees and the pasture land belonging to the castle. His heartwas alive to every pleasant sight and sound that met his eye and ear;although, or rather because, a low, sweet song of thankfulness was allthe while chanting itself within him.
During his solitary walk he distinctly realized for the first time thestupendous change that had passed over him. For such changes cannot beunderstood or measured until afterwards, perhaps not always then.Drawing from his pocket Juliano's little book, he clasped it in bothhands. "_This_, God be thanked, has done it all, under him. And yet,at first, it added to my misery a hundred-fold." Then his mind ran backto the dreary days of helpless, almost hopeless wretchedness, when hefirst began its perusal. Much of it had then been quite unintelligibleto him; but what he understood had only made his darkness darker still.He who had but just learned from that stern teacher, Life, the meaningof sorrow, learned from the pages of his book the awful significance ofthat other word, Sin. Bitter hours, never to be remembered without ashudder, were those that followed. Already prostrate on the groundbeneath the weight of his selfish sorrow for the love that might neverbe his, cruel blows seemed rained upon him by the very hand to which heturned to lift him up. "All was his own fault," said conscience. Buthad conscience, enlightened by his book, said no more, he could haveborne it. It was a different thing to recognize that all was his ownsin--to feel more keenly every day that the whole current of histhoughts and affections was set in opposition to the will of God asrevealed in that book, and illustrated in the life of him of whom ittold.
But this sickness of heart, deadly though it seemed, was not unto death.The Word had indeed proved a mirror, in which he saw his own facereflected with the lines and colours of truth. But it had a farther usefor him. As he did not fling it away in despair, but still gazed on, atlength he saw in its clear depths another Face--a Face radiant withdivine majesty, yet beaming with tender love and pity. He whom themirror thus gave back to him had been "not far" from him all his life;had been standing over against him, watching and waiting for the momentin which to reveal himself. At last that moment came. He looked upfrom the mirror to the real Face; from the Word to him whom the Wordrevealed. He turned himself and said unto him, "Rabboni, which is tosay. My Master." He laid his soul at his feet in love, in trust, ingratitude. And he knew then, not until then, that this was the "coming"to him, the "believing" on him, the receiving him, of which He spoke asthe condition of life, of pardon, and of happiness.
From that hour he possessed life, he knew himself forgiven, he washappy. This was no theory, but a fact--a fact which changed all hispresent and was destined to change all his future.
He longed to impart the wonderful secret he had found. This longingovercame his contempt for the cura, and made him seek to win him bykindness to listen to words which perhaps might open for him also thesame wonderful fountain of joy.
"Now I am going to worship my Lord, afterwards I shall speak of him," hesaid, as he crossed the threshold of the little village church.
In due season the service was over. Its ceremonies did not pain oroffend Carlos in any way; he took part in them with much real devotion,as acts of homage paid to his Lord. Still, if he had analyzed hisfeelings (which he did not), he would have found them like those of aking's child, who is obliged, on days of courtly ceremonial, to pay hisfather the same distant homage as the other peers of the realm, and yetknows that all this for him is but an idle show, and longs to throwaside its cumbrous pomp, and to rejoice once more in the free familiarintercourse which is his habit and his privilege. But that theceremonial itself could be otherwise than pleasing to hi
s King, he hadnot the most distant suspicion.
He spoke kindly to the priest, and inquired by name after all the sickfolk in the village, though in fact he knew more about them himself bythis time than did Father Tomas.
The cura's heart was glad when the catechism came to a termination sosatisfactory as an invitation to dine at the castle. Whatever the faremight be--and his expectations were not extravagantly high--it couldscarce fail to be an improvement on the olla of which he had intended tomake his Sunday repast. Moreover, one favour from the castle might bethe earnest of others; and favours from the castle, poor though itslords might be, were not to be despised. Nor was he ill at ease in thesociety of an accomplished gentleman, as a man just a little better bredwould probably have been. A wealthy peasant's son, and with but scantyeducation, Father Tomas was so hopelessly vulgar that he never onceimagined he was vulgar at all.
Carlos bore as patiently as he could with his coarse manners, andconversation something worse than commonplace. Not until the repast wasconcluded did he find an opportunity of bringing forward the topic uponwhich he longed to speak. Then, with more tact than his guest couldappreciate, he began by inquiring--as one himself intended for thepriesthood might naturally do--whether he could always keep his thoughtsfrom wandering while he was celebrating the holy mysteries of the faith.
Father Tomas crossed himself, and answered that he was a sinner likeother men, but that he tried to do his duty to our holy Mother Church tothe best of his ability.
Carlos remarked, that unless we ourselves know the love of God byexperience we cannot love him, and that without love there is noacceptable service.
"Most true, senor," said the priest, turning his eyes upwards. "As theholy St. Augustine saith. Your worship quotes from him, I believe."
"I have quoted nothing," said Carlos, beginning to feel that he wasspeaking to the deaf; "but I know the words of Christ." And then hespoke, out of a full heart, of Christ's work for us, of his love to us,and of the pardon and peace which those receive that trust him.
But his listener's stolid face betrayed no interest, only a vagueuneasiness, which increased as Carlos proceeded. The poor parish curabegan to suspect that the clever young collegian meant to astonish andbewilder him by the exhibition of his learning and his "new ideas."Indeed, he was not quite sure whether his host was eloquently enlargingall the time upon Catholic truths, or now and then mischievouslythrowing out a few heretical propositions, in order to try whether hewould have skill enough to detect them. Naturally, he did not greatlyrelish this style of entertainment. Nothing could be got from him savea cautious, "That is true, senor," or, "Very good, your worship;" and assoon as his notions of politeness would permit, he took his leave.
Carlos marvelled greatly at his dulness; but soon dismissed him from hismind, and took his Testament out to read under the shade of thecork-trees. Ere long the light began to fade, but he sat there still inthe fast deepening twilight. Thoughts and fancies thronged upon hismind; and dreams of the past sought, as even yet they often did, toreassert their supremacy over his heart. One of those apparentlyunaccountable freaks of memory, which we all know by experience, broughtback to him suddenly the luscious perfume of the orange-blossoms, calledby the Spaniards the azahar. Such fragrance had filled the air, andsuch flowers had been strewed upon his pathway, when last he walked withDonna Beatrix in the fairy gardens of the Alcazar of Seville.
Keen was the pang that shot through his heart at the remembrance. Butit was conquered soon. As he went in-doors he repeated the words he hadjust been reading, "'He that cometh unto me shall never hunger; he thatbelieveth on me shall never thirst.' And _this_ hunger of the soul, aswell is every other, He can stay. Having him, I have all things.
"El Dorado Yo he trovado."
Father, dear, unknown father, I have round the golden country. Not inthe sense thou didst fondly seek, and I as fondly dream to find it. Yetthe only true land of gold I have found indeed--the treasure unfailing,the inheritance incorruptible, undented and that fadeth not away,reserved in heaven for me."
The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century Page 9