University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.

“Didst thou observe, brother henchman,” said
Lazaro, as, after having completed his meal, and
taken good note of the tethers of the horses, he threw
himself on the ground by the side of Baltasar, as if
to imitate the other members of the party, who were
making what preparations they could for the indulgence
of the siesta,—“Didst thou observe, I say, old
sinner, that, this moment, we were like to have made
experience of the virtue of cotton corslets? By my
faith, this gentle master mine will not suffer our hands
to be idle, so long as there be savages to curse the
faith, or hidalgos to cross his humours. I am ever
bound to the magnanimous señor commander, that
he thought fit to swallow his wrath, and send me
those black-browed vagabonds back to their dinner:
for otherwise, I assure thee, there was much fear of
our supping in purgatory.”

“For my part,” said Baltasar, raising his head
from the saddle, which served him for a pillow, and
looking curiously round on the various groups, “I am
of opinion, there was more discretion than dignity
about that same captain, when he became so moderate
of a sudden; for so sure as he was very foolish
to get into a quarrel with the boy Amador, who, I am
free to say, is no way unworthy to be a kinsman and
esquire of my master the knight, so surely would the
boy have dinged the feathers off his gilt casque with
the first blow; and how much of his head might have
followed the feathers, is more than I will take upon
me to determine.”

“Thou art so hungry after war,” said Lazaro,
“thou canst not perceive the valour of foregoing an
opportunity of battle now and then. Hast thou
never seen a man turn pale from anger, as well as
cowardice?”

“Of a truth, I have,” said the veteran; “and, provided

there be a steady countenance along with it,
this sickly hue is ever a sight to be dreaded more
than the woman's blush, which some men fall into in
their anger. But a coward's mouth is always playing
him dog's tricks: I have sometimes seen the
nether lip shake in a brave man; but when the trembling
is all up in the corners, as I have learned to
know, after divers lessons, it is a sign the heart is in
a flutter. There are doubtless certain strings, whereby
the heart is fastened to the mouth; and it is when the
corners are writhing about in this cowardly snaky
manner, that the heart is drawn up further than is
comfortable; a thing, as I have no doubt, may have
sometimes happened to yourself.”

“If it have, may I become a Turk's slave!” said
Lazaro, with great indignation; “and if it do, I hope
it may be transformed, at that moment, from my
own mouth to a dog's, to be made a dinner of!”

“Thou art an ass to be in a passion, at any rate,”
said Baltasar, coolly, “and a very improbable idiot,
to deny, in thy vain-glory, what has happened to
braver men than thyself; and, which I am free to
confess, has sometimes chanced to myself, especially
in my youth, when I first went to fight the Moors;
and, I very well remember, that besides perceiving
there was a sort of emptiness under my ribs, on such
occasions, I could feel my heart beating at the back
of my throat as plainly as I ever felt the arrow-heads
tapping about my buckler. But it always went to its
place again, when we were come to close quarters.”

“May I die of the bastinado, if I ever felt any such
thing!” said Lazaro, proudly. “I was born without
any such gaingiving; and the only uncomfortable
feeling I have had, under such circumstances, was a
sort of cold creeping about the stomach, as if it were
raining inside of me.”

“Or as if there was a cold air brewing in your
gizzard!” said Baltasar, triumphantly. “That is the
very same thing,—the emptiness, I was talking about;
and if you never felt the beating in your throat, it

was because your heart was in such a fit of fright as
to have no power of beating left.”

“Ay! that may be,” said Lazaro, with a grin:
“that beating is a business I keep for my arm, and
when that is in service, my heart is ever wise enough
to be quiet. But concerning the captain,—Dost thou
really esteem him a coward?”

“Who knows?” said the veteran. “A man may
be once in fear, and strong-hearted ever after. Yet
was there such a working about that cavalier's mouth,
as made me think he longed to strike Don Amador,
if he durst, and which still persuades he has some bitter
thoughts about the matter of the insult: for, as you
may remember, Don Amador said he was more of
a hind than a hidalgo, with other such loving remarks
as might stir a man's choler. For this reason, I am
of opinion it will be good service of thee to thy master,
to keep thine eyes open while he is taking his
siesta, lest, mayhap, some mischief might come to
him sleeping.”

“I am ever bound to your goodnatured discretion,”
said Lazaro, with a laugh. “I have no doubt it
would be more profitable to sit for an hour or two,
watching the sunbeams stealing through the wood,
than, for the same time, to slumber and snore, without
any other amusement than an occasional buffeting
of one's nose, to keep the flies off. I will therefore
surrender this agreeable privilege to thyself, as being
my senior and better; while I nap a little, and that
so lightly, that if an emmet do but creep near my
master, I shall hear the rustling of his footsteps. But
hark'ee, Baltasar: there is much wit about thee, for
an old man that has endured so many hard knocks;
and ever, about once in an hundred times, I have
found thy conjectures to be very reasonable. What
is thy opinion concerning those infidel Moors under
the bush yonder? and by what sort of magic dost
thou suppose they have so wrought upon our commander,
that he will neither suffer lance-shaft nor
cane-twig to be laid upon them?”

“Ay, there they are!” said Baltasar, looking towards
the father and son. “The boy lies with his
head on Abdalla's knee, and Abdalla covers him with
his skin mantle; and the mantle shakes, as if the boy
were sobbing under it.—It is my opinion, the lad has
been used to milder treatment than he seems likely to
meet in these parts, unless Don Amador should see
fit to take him into his own keeping; and it is also my
opinion, if he be so much affected at the sight of a
green twig, he will go nigh to die of terror at the
flash of a savage's sword.”

“That is an opinion I have, in part, formed for
myself,” said the junior coolly: “and one that I
think is shared in common with every other person
in this quilted company, that has looked in the manikin's
face.”

“It is as white,” said Baltasar, “as that mountain
top we saw from the caravel; whereas the children
of common Moriscos are much the hue of my own
weather-beaten boots.”

“The boy was in a most pestilent fright,” said Lazaro,
“and therefore somewhat more snowy than
was natural; nevertheless, I have seen darker skins
among the damsels of La Mancha.”

“And he is, in a manner, well figured and comely,”
said the veteran.

“If thou hadst said he was such a Ganymede as
might hold the wine-cup and trencher to a princess,
I should have thought better of thine eye-sight. By
cross and spear! he has such eyes as I shall be glad
to find in any wench I may be predestined to marry.”

“And his hand,” said Baltasar, “is as small as a
hidalgo's son's. He hath an amiable countenance,
and such gravity in it, when not disturbed, as belongs
to older years; and he ever keeps it bent to the earth,
as if to shun observation.”

“Ay; I see what thou art driving at,” said Lazaro,
significantly. “Thou thinkest Sidi Abdalla is some
infidel prince of Granada—a Zegri or Abencerrage—”

“I think no such thing,” said Baltasar, gruffly. “I
have fought, myself, hand to hand, with a Zegri,
while my young lord Gabriel was cleaving the head
of another; to which knightly and majestic infidels
the wretch Sidi bears such resemblance as, in comparison,
doth the hedge-hog to a leopard.”

“Thou art of opinion then, doubtless,” said Lazaro,
“that the boy Jacinto is some Christian nobleman's
son, stolen in his infancy by Sidi, to be made
a sacrifice to the devil?”

“I am no such ass,” said Baltasar, “to entertain
any such notion.”

“A bird's flight by his feather, a beast's rage by
his claw, and a man's thoughts by his tongue,” said
Lazaro; “but how I am to judge thee, is more than
I know. What a-God's name, dost thou think then
of these Christian heathens?”

“I think nothing at all,” said Baltasar, dryly: “I
only wonder by what chance a Morisco boor came
to have so tender and so handsome a boy.”

“Well, heaven be with thee, old oracle,” said Lazaro,
laying his head on his saddle: “If I should resolve
thy wonder in my dreams, I will enlighten thee
when I wake.”

The veteran gave a look to the horses,—to his
master, who, by the attentions of the captain Salvatierra,
had been enabled to enjoy the luxury of a hammock,
slung between two trees,—to the Moor, who
sat watching over his child,—to the Tlamémé, who
slumbered by their packs,—to the Spaniards, who
slept, as they had eaten, in groups,—to the few sentinels
who stood nodding under the trees,—and then,
dismissing all care, as if satisfied with the security
of the motley encampment, he was not slow to follow
the example of his companion.