University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

Philip de Vasconselos did not, as was anticipated by Don Balthazar,
and warmly counselled by Nuno de Tobar, return immediately
to the attempt upon the affections of Olivia de Alvaro.
It would have been quite enough to preclude his visit for that day
and the next, at least, that there had been a death in the family;
an event, however, to which his more reckless friend attached no
sort of importance. But there was another reason for delay and
hesitation: Philip had no such confidence in his own position,
no such faith in his own powers, no such conviction of the favorable
regards of the lady, as was asserted by Nuno. He was, on
the contrary, troubled with many misgivings, which grew in difficulty
the more he examined. The very fact that he really and
earnestly loved, made him tremble at the thought of precipitating
his fate; and the true lover is almost always prepared to think
humbly of his own claims, in view of that supposed perfection which
he recognizes in the lady of his love. Besides, with the natural
delicacy of a proud and honorable mind, conscious of his own
poverty, he felt the awkwardness of a suit to one who was in the
possession of great riches. He felt how easy it was to suspect
the motives of such a suitor, and dreaded lest such a suspicion
should taint the mind of the lady herself. Not that he was disposed
to forego his suit because of this, or any other consideration.
On the contrary, he was resolved to bring it to the trial,
and know the worst as soon as he could think it proper to do so.
But all his conclusions counselled him to delay. Nor must we
allow it to be supposed that he was without his encouragements.

He persuaded himself that there was much in what had taken
place between himself and Olivia in that last interview, to show
that she was very far from insensible to his pretensions. It is
true that there were things in her carriage—some curious caprices
of mood and manner, which he found it not easy altogether
to comprehend. But there was still enough to please a lover;
and to persuade one, even less bold and ardent than our
hero, to continue a pursuit in which he had certainly suffered no
repulse. She had evaded his application, but she had shown a
peculiar sensibility at his approach. She had trifled somewhat
when he was seriously earnest, but what was the meaning of her
tremors when her fair white hand lingered within his grasp? and
had she not encouraged his return?—and had she not declared an
interest in his presence in Cuba, in language too impressive to be
wholly without that desirable signification which the lover seeks?
Vasconselos was very far from being discouraged—nay, without
heeding the confident assurance of Nuno de Tobar, he felt a new
hope springing within his bosom at every moment of increased
reflection; and, ere the day was well over, he had resolved to
bring his doubts to an issue, at least, before the departure of the
expedition. It was his farther resolution, if successful in his
suit, to abandon the adventure with De Soto. For that matter,
he had partly determined thus, whatever might be the result of his
courtship. This conclusion was reached that very night, and
the next morning, when he was visited by Tobar, he unhesitatingly
declared it, to the great consternation of that young gallant.
The latter enabled him to do so, without effort, by rallying him
on the score of his amour.

“Where were you last night, Philip? You promised to be
with us, and broke faith. Truth to say, we had the merriest
night of it in the tent of Juan de Anasco. Better flasks of Xeres
were never opened to Don Ferdinand. All cried aloud against
you, and cursed your drowsy courtship, which seems to be notorious
throughout the Island. Now, my good fellow, if you must
be in love, there is no good reason why you should be out of the

world. Every body asks for you—they all look for you in vain.
You are lost to all good fellowship.”

“You are likely to lose me still more completely than you
do now, Nuno. Some day you will fail to see me altogether. I
mean, indeed, to separate myself wholly from such a band of
vicious profligates, who have no faith in anything more lovely
than a pearl oyster, and yield their hearts to nothing less persuasive
than a gold mine. What should I do with such people;—I
who still believe in love and beauty, and have a heart still open
to the pleadings of a woman? That I do love is sufficient reason
why I should leave such companions. From this day I am going
to quit you all. I propose even to forego the expedition to Florida.
It needs me not; and there are good reasons wherefore I
should abandon it.”

“Now the blessed saints forefend, that you should speak seriously
this resolution, my friend. Why, Philip de Vasconselos,
this is mere madness. What reasons can you have? That you
love and would marry, and may marry Olivia de Alvaro, is not
sufficient cause, I trow, since the one stands not in the way of the
other, if there be any settled purpose in your mind to go.”

“Aye, but there is none.”

“How! I thought your going with the expedition was quite a
settled matter. I know that the Adelantado counts confidently
upon your going, and holds it of large importance to the interest of
the expedition that you should go: for you are the only person of
all the party who knows the tongue of the Floridian, and the passages
to his country.”

“I did, in some degree, prepare and consent to depart with
the Adelantado, but if he counts upon my going and values my
performance, he hath taken but a strange course for showing me
the estimate he hath of my services.”

“Truth, he hath neglected you somewhat.”

“But this availeth little, and I have no regrets and no complaints.
Let it suffice for you, Nuno, that, for the time, the passion
for warlike adventure hath gone utterly out of my heart. I

look with discomfort at all warlike panoply—I turn away from
lance and sword with feeling of discomfort, and my shield glares
at me with unpleasant brightness from the wall. Love hath subdued
me to simpler and sweeter desires. I dream now of long
floating hair and dewy eyes, and a sweet song and sweeter sigh
in the shade of lemon groves in the star-light.”

“Shame on thee, Vasconselos, that thou shouldst make such
confession! I will report thee for a haggard through the army.
I too have had my passions and my loves, as thou knowest, and
I could, on occasion, play me a merry turn of sadness upon the
guitar beneath my lady's lattice, even now; but that she should
wean me from my love of shield and spear, were impossible! I
must not believe thee.”

“Thou shalt! thou wilt! I am the very thing that I tell thee,
and care nothing for all the gold and treasure of the Floridian.”

“It will greatly anger the adelantado when he hears of thy
decision.”

“Nay, I think he is somewhat prepared for it. He hath
treated me with neglect from the beginning, in all substantial
things, and he now shows me a cold courtesy, which argues hostility.
This, of itself, were enough to move me to abandon his
banner. But thou also knowest how much are we Portuguese
the dislike of thy common soldiers. My brother, Andres, who
leads a troop of our people, and a goodly one, hath a certain
measure of independence. But I, who am only a single horse
and lance, I have no power, and lacking power, have no security.
I could only go as a simple volunteer, the aid to a superior who
hath shown me aversion. Seest thou not how little motive is
there left me for this adventure? Even the page who helped
me buckle on my armor is withdrawn from me, since he waits also
on my brother, and is his paid follower; and this reminds me,
Nuno, that I am seeking to buy me a well-made blackamoor;—
a boy who shall bring me water, unlace my helmet, and put on
my spurs; a meek and docile urchin, who shall be quick as willing,
and whom, by kindness, I can make faithful. Wilt thou
make it known abroad that the Portuguese knight, Philip de Vasconseles,

is willing to pay a goodly sum in Castellanos for this
Moorish urchin?”

“It shall be done, Philip; but thou chafest me. I cannot lose
thee from this expedition.”

“It may be that the Lady Olivia will reject my hand. If it be
so —”

“Nay, I know her better. She will not reject thee. Leonora
vows to me that her heart is full of thee only.”

“Hath she said this to thy wife?”

“No! not in words; but she hath shown it in a thousand instances.
My wife is a laughter, but she hath an eye. She sees,
and I, too, see, Philip, and we have no doubts. It is your own
modesty alone that seeks for them, and builds them up into a
tower! I can tell you what the answer of the lady will be, and
upon this you may count with certainty. But you will scarcely
wed on the instant, even when she accepts thee. Some time
will pass, and why not yield this to a campaign in Florida?
How much better to bring home a dowry for your bride, in the
pearl and gold of the Apalachian? Nay, hath she not a noble
hacienda, one of the finest in all the island, at Matelos, which
needs nothing but an adequate supply of slaves, to make it an
empire? A single season in Apalachia will give thee any number.”

“Nay, let her consent to my love, Nuno, and there shall be
no delay. We shall instantly wed. I like not these long gaps
between promise and performance. They make the heart sick
and the soul weary. Unless there be good reason, there shall be
no delay. She shall be mine as soon after she hath said the
consenting word as the time will suffer for the coming of the
priest and the preparation of the altar.”

“And Don Balthazar! thinkest thou he is the person to suffer
thee so easily to take possession? I look for trouble from that
quarter.”

“Trouble! I tell thee, Nuno, there is something in the aspect
of that man which so offends my nature, that it will go hard with
me if I do not take him by the beard on the first occasion. I

have somehow, among men, an infallible instinct for knowing
an enemy, even as most men have the instinct for knowing when
there is venom in reptile and insect. My soul seems to lift my
heel, as I behold him, with the feeling that I ought to crush.”

“Yet beware! He is one who hath power and policy. He
hath courage, too, and is known for a man of prowess in arms.
You know that the adelantado hath made him Captain-General
of the Fleet.”

“Ha! then he departs with the expedition? I had thought
this doubtful.”

“The appointment hath secured him, and some thousands of
Castellanos besides, drawn, I suspect, from the estates of the fair
Olivia.”

“Well, let him depart. It is even more important, if he
goes, that I should remain. Let Olivia but yield me her favor,
and I care not who departs. Nothing then should persuade me
to this wild enterprise.”

“Ah! Philip, thou didst not hold it so wild ere thou sawest
the fair niece of Don Balthazar.”

“I was but a wild person in that day myself.”

“And why shouldst thou now deem it so wild an enterprise?
Thou wert a companion with Cabeza de Vaça, and shared his
spoils, and held with him the opinion that the mountains of Apalachia
contained treasures of gold and silver even greater than
those of Peru and Tenochtitlan.”

“And think not otherwise now. But to me such treasures
have grown valueless in comparison with others yet more precious.
Thou shalt enjoy my share of them, Nuno. May they
make thee rich and leave thee happy. But, for my happiness,
I need not now to go on shipboard. I need not carry lance
again among the savages. My ears shall not prick at the summons
of the trumpet, and I shall soon learn to forget in the quiet
shadows of my fig-tree, that I ever had communion with wild and
profligate youth like thyself.”

“Now am I half persuaded to implore the Saints that they
move against thee, and forbid this damsel to give hearing to thy

prayer. Thy passion for her bids fair to break the head from one
of the best lances of Castile! What shall we do without thee in
Florida—thou who know'st all about the country, and hast such
sufficient knowledge of the infernal dialect of these savages of Apalachia?
When this resolution of thine shall reach the ears of the
Adelantado, he will surely madden. He will carry thee, perforce,
Philip.”

“Be thine the tongue, Nuno, to make him the report, that the
first overflow of his anger will fall upon other heads than mine.”

“Upon mine, thou meanest? Yet thou scarcely deservest this
friendship from the comrade whom thou abandon'st at the entrance
of the field! But thou wilt decide otherwise, I trust; and
prove thyself true to thy vocation, if not to the sex. He who
keeps faith with his comrade, need not concern himself in regard
to pledges made to woman.”

“Out upon thee for a heretic! But that I know thee to speak
commonly a philosophy such as thou canst invent, and not such
as thou believest, I should lift lance against thee, though I never
strove in tilt or combat again! But get thee hence, and leave me to
my meditations. Thou, meanwhile, may'st employ thyself, and
amuse the island, by telling aloud this purpose of mine to abandon
the expedition.”

“But thou wilt take part in the tournament?”

“Ay, as a point of honor it is needful. We Portuguese have
been too much held in disesteem by your proud Spaniards, and I
am resolved to lower some of the haughty crests, which have
abused the courtesy of knighthood. It will be, perchance, a solemn
service, closing my career in chivalry. I will then dedicate my
spear to the Gods of the Harvest—and set up an altar to peace,
where hitherto I have bowed only to that of war!”

“A Dios!” exclaimed the young knight at parting. “I go sadly,
Philip, to make evil report of thee to all good companions!”

“A Dios!” replied the Portuguese—“I wish thee no worse evil
than that, in time, thou shalt come to be full believer in thy own
report.”

Nuno de Tobar needed no exhortations on the part of Philip

de Vasconselos, to spread abroad the news of his resolution to
abandon the expedition. He was naturally given to talk freely
all that he knew. But, in publishing the matter, he aimed really
so to cause the expression of regret among the people, which he
knew would be very general, as to move the Adelantado to review
his conduct towards the Portuguese knights, and to repair the
evils which had followed his neglect. It was the notion of Nuno,
and it was probably not without justice, that a little more favor
shown to these adventurers would have secured their attachments,
and confirmed them in their desire for the adventure. It was not
too late, he fancied, to win Philip back to the enterprise, and he
resolved freely to declare himself, to this effect, to the ears of the
Adelantado. The command of a score or two of lances, and an
honorable appointment, would, he persuaded himself, so influence
Philip de Vasconselos, that, even if he married Olivia, he would
still accompany or follow the expedition. Was he not about to
abandon his own wife, who was both young and beautiful; and
did not the Adelantado himself do likewise, in respect to a woman
no less beautiful than noble? He could see no reason why the
Portuguese should exhibit a more feminine tenderness and affection
than either.

In these views and this policy he seconded the desires and opinion
of Don Balthazar de Alvaro. This person soon got tidings
of the avowed determination of the knight of Portugal. Nuno
de Tobar had given large currency to the report in a couple of
hours; but Philip, who was not without his policy, and whose desire
was to circulate his decision, set other agents to work in its
dissemination. Scarcely had Nuno de Tobar disappeared when
another visitor had sought his lodgings, and he was shortly succeeded
by a third. To all of these our knight was equally communicative,
and the news was soon dispersed, as upon the wings of
the wind, all over the city. Don Balthazar was one of the first
persons whom it reached.

“'Tis as I feared!” he muttered to himself. “This knight is hopeful
of success. He is not willing to forego his chances. He grows
confident: he will come again. He will propose. I cannot hide

her from him. I cannot deny him entrance. I dare not hurry her
off to the mountains. He must see her. Well! she has resolved,
in her refinement of virtue, not to accept him—not to marry him
or any other. She loves him too well, she says, to dishonor him.
Very good! very satisfactory, could she keep her word—were she
firm in her resolution. But, is it possible? Can I trust her?
Is any woman to be trusted where her heart is full of the one object,
where the passions are young and vigorous, and where the
opportunities are free? She will tremble and hesitate, and be
coy—recede, yet loiter,—listen, and finally, forgetting everything
except the passion which she feels, she will fall into his arms, and
he will drink the moist, warm consent from her burning lips. So
it has been ever—so it will be ever—to the end of the history.
I have studied the sex in vain if it be not so!—and how to prevent
all this, for it must be prevented! The Adelantado must persuade
this knight to continue with the expedition. He must win him. He
hath the charm to do this, when he is persuaded to use it; and he
must use it now. He must make him a captain of twenties—nay,
hundreds—but he must bear him off; and meanwhile, it must be
for me to encourage him with a promise of Olivia on his return
from the expedition. To gain time is now the thing essential.
The rest may be left to the thousand casualties of such an adventure
as that on which we depart. But should these arts fail!
should the persuasions of the Adelantado come too late—should
the pride of this knight of Portugal reject our overtures with
scorn, as perchance he may—should my promise of Olivia, on
his return, not satisfy him—as, in faith, her encouragement hath
been sufficient to make it unsatisfactory—what remains? Verily,
but one remedy! We must try the sharp necessity of the dagger.
There will be opportunities enough, I trow. It must either
be my hand, or that of one whose soul and weapon I may buy
against any bosom in Cuba!”