 | CHAPTER V. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay |  |
5. CHAPTER V.
To fix one spark of beauty's heavenly ray?
Who doth not feel, until his failing sight
Faints into dimness with its own delight,
His changing cheek, his sinking heart confess
The might — the majesty of loveliness!”
Byron.
That night the court of Castile and Aragon slept in
the palace of the Alhambra. As soon as the religious ceremony
alluded to in the last chapter had terminated, the
crowd rushed into the place, and the princes followed, with a
dignity and state better suited to their high character. The
young Christian nobles, accompanied by their wives and
sisters — for the presence of Isabella, and the delay that
attended the surrender, had drawn together a vast many of
the gentler sex, in addition to those whose duty it was to
accompany their royal mistress — hurried eagerly through
the celebrated courts and fretted apartments of this remarkable
residence; nor was curiosity appeased even when
night came to place a temporary stay to its indulgence.
The Court of the Lions, in particular, a place still renowned
throughout Christendom for its remains of oriental beauty,
had been left by Boabdil in the best condition; and, although
it was mid-winter, by the aid of human art it was even then
gay with flowers; while the adjacent halls, those of the Two
Sisters, and of Abencerrages, were brilliant with light, and
alive with warriors and courtiers, dignified priests and luxuriant
beauty.
Although no Spanish eye could be otherwise than familiar
with the light peculiar graces of Moorish architecture, these
of the Alhambra so much surpassed those of any other palace
which had been erected by the Mussulman dynasties
of that part of the world, that their glories struck the beholders
with the freshness of novelty, as well as with the
art of eastern origin, then little understood in Christendom;
the graceful and fanciful Arabesques — which, improved on
by the fancies of some of the greatest geniuses the world
ever saw, have descended to our own times, and got to be
so familiar in Europe, though little known on this side of
the Atlantic — decorated the walls, while brilliant fountains
cast their waters into the air, and fell in glittering spray,
resembling diamonds.
Among the throng that moved through this scene of
almost magical beauty, was Beatriz de Bobadilla, who had
long been the wife of Don Andres de Cabrera, and was now
generally known as the Marchioness of Moya; the constant,
near, and confidential friend of the queen, a character
she retained until her royal mistress was numbered
with the dead. On her arm leaned lightly, a youthful
female, of an appearance so remarkable, that few strangers
would have passed her without turning to take a second
look at features and a countenance that were seldom seen
and forgotten. This was Doña Mercedes de Valverde, one
of the noblest and richest heiresses of Castile; the relative,
ward, and adopted daughter of the queen's friend; favourite
being hardly the term one would apply to the relation
in which Doña Beatriz stood towards Isabella. It was not
the particular beauty of Doña Mercedes, however, that rendered
her appearance so remarkable and attractive; for,
though feminine, graceful, of exquisite form, and even of
pleasing features, there were many in that brilliant court
who would generally be deemed fairer. But no other
maiden of Castile had a countenance so illuminated by the
soul within, or no other female face habitually wore so deep
an impression of sentiment and sensibility; and the professed
physiognomist would have delighted to trace the evidences
of a deeply-seated, earnest, but unobtrusive enthusiasm,
which even cast a shade of melancholy over a face
that fortune and the heart had equally intended should be
sunny and serene. Serene it was, notwithstanding; the
shadow that rested on it seeming to soften and render interesting
its expression, rather than to disturb its tranquillity
or to cloud its loveliness.
On the other side of the noble matron walked Luis de
to permit his own dark flashing looks to meet, whenever
feeling and modesty would allow it, the fine, expressive,
blue eyes of Mercedes. The three conversed freely, for
the royal personages had retired to their private apartments,
and each group of passengers was so much entranced
with the novelty of its situation and its own conversation,
as to disregard the remarks of others.
“This is a marvel, Luis,” observed Doña Beatriz, in
continuation of a subject that evidently much interested
them all, “that thou, a truant and a rover thyself, should
now have heard for the first time of this Colon! It is
many years since he has been soliciting their Highnesses
for their royal aid in effecting his purposes. The matter
of his schemes was solemnly debated before a council at
Salamanca; and he hath not been without believers at the
Court, itself.”
“Among whom is to be classed Doña Beatriz de Cabrera,”
said Mercedes, with that melancholy smile that had
the effect to bring out glimpses of all the deep but latent
feeling that lay concealed beneath the surface: “I have
often heard Her Highness declare that Colon hath no truer
friend in Castile.”
“Her Highness is seldom mistaken, child—and never in
my heart. I do uphold the man; for to me he seemeth
one fitted for some great and honourable undertaking; and
surely none greater hath ever been proposed or imagined
by human mind, than this he urgeth. Think of our becoming
acquainted with the nations of the other side of the
earth, and of finding easy and direct means of communicating
with them, and of imparting to them the consolations
of Holy Church!”
“Ay, Señora my aunt,” cried Luis, laughing, “and of
walking in their delightful company with all our heels in
the air, and our heads downwards! I hope this Colon hath
not neglected to practise a little in the art, for it will need
some time to gain a sure foot, in such circumstances. He
might commence on the sides of these mountains, by way
of a horn-book, throwing the head boldly off at a right-angle;
after which, the walls and towers of this Alhambra
new progress.”
Mercedes had unconsciously but fervently pressed the
arm of her guardian, as Doña Beatriz admitted her interest
in the success of the great project; but at this sally of Don
Luis, she looked serious, and threw a glance at him, that
he himself felt to be reproachful. To win the love of his
aunt's ward was the young man's most ardent wish; and a
look of dissatisfaction could at any moment repress that
exuberance of spirits which often led him into an appearance
of levity that did injustice to the really sterling qualities
of both his heart and mind. Under the influence of
that look, then, he was not slow to repair the wrong he had
done himself, by adding almost as soon as he had ceased to
speak —
“The Doña Mercedes is of the discovering party, too,
I see; this Colon appeareth to have had more success with
the dames of Castile than with her nobles”—
“Is it extraordinary, Don Luis,” interrupted the pensive-looking
girl, “that women should have more confidence in
merit, more generous impulses, more zeal for God, than
men?”
“It must be even so, since you and my aunt, Doña Beatriz,
side with the navigator. But I am not always to be
understood in the light I express myself;”—Mercedes now
smiled, but this time it was archly—“I have never studied
with the minstrels, nor, sooth to say, deeply with the
churchmen. To be honest with you, I have been much
struck with this noble idea; and if Señor Colon doth, in
reality, sail in quest of Cathay and the Indies, I shall pray
their Highnesses to let me be of the party, for, now that
the Moor is subdued, there remaineth little for a noble to
do in Spain.”
“If thou should'st really go on this expedition,” said
Doña Beatriz, with grave irony, “there will, at least, be
one human being topsy-turvy, in the event of thy reaching
Cathay. But yonder is an attendant of the court; I doubt
if Her Highness doth not desire my presence.”
The Lady of Moya was right—the messenger coming to
announce to her that the queen required her attendance.
The manners of the day and country rendered it unseemly
only by Don Luis, and the marchioness led the way
to her own apartments, where a saloon suitable to her rank
and to her favour with the queen, had been selected for her
from among the numberless gorgeous rooms of the Moorish
kings. Even here, the marchioness paused a moment, in
thought, before she would leave her errant nephew alone
with her ward.
“Though a rover, he is no troubadour, and cannot charm
thy ear with false rhymes. It were better, perhaps, that I
sent him beneath thy balcony, with his guitar; but knowing
so well his dulness, I will confide in it, and leave him
with thee, for the few minutes that I shall be absent. A
cavalier who hath so strong a dislike to reversing the order
of nature, will not surely condescend to go on his knees,
even though it be to win a smile from the sweetest maiden
in all Castile.”
Don Luis laughed; Doña Beatriz smiled, as she kissed
her ward, and left the room; while Doña Mercedes blushed,
and riveted her gaze on the floor. Luis de Bobadilla was
the declared suitor and sworn knight of Mercedes de Valverde;
but, though so much favoured by birth, fortune,
affinity, and figure, there existed some serious impediments
to his success. In all that was connected with the considerations
that usually decide such things, the union was
desirable; but there existed, nevertheless, a strong influence
to overcome, in the scruples of Doña Beatriz, herself.
High-principled, accustomed to the just-minded views of
her royal mistress, and too proud to do an unworthy act,
the very advantages that a marriage with her ward offered
to her nephew, had caused the marchioness to hesitate.
Don Luis had little of the Castilian gravity of character—
and, by many, his animal spirits were mistaken for lightness
of disposition and levity of thought. His mother was
a woman of a very illustrious French family; and national
pride had induced most observers to fancy that the son inherited
a constitutional disposition to frivolity, that was to
be traced to the besetting weakness of a whole people. A
consciousness of his being so viewed at home, had, indeed,
driven the youth abroad; and as, like all observant travellers,
he was made doubly sensible of the defects of his
had grown up between him and his natural associates,
that had urged the young man, again and again, to wander
into foreign lands. Nothing, indeed, but his early and constantly
increasing passion for Mercedes had induced him to
return; a step that, fortunately for himself, he had last
taken in time to assist in the reduction of Granada. Notwithstanding
these traits, which, in a country like Castile,
might be properly enough termed peculiarities, Don Luis
de Bobadilla was a knight worthy of his lineage and name.
His prowess in the field and in the tourney, indeed, was so
very marked as to give him a high military character, in
despite of what were deemed his failings; and he passed
rather as an inconsiderate and unsafe young man, than as
one who was either debased or wicked. Martial qualities,
in that age in particular, redeemed a thousand faults; and
Don Luis had even been known to unhorse, in the tourney,
Alonzo de Ojeda, then the most expert lance in Spain.
Such a man could not be despised, though he might be distrusted.
But the feeling which governed his aunt, referred
quite as much to her own character as to his. Deeply conscientious,
while she understood her nephew's real qualities
much better than mere superficial observers, she had her
doubts about the propriety of giving the rich heiress who
was entrusted to her care, to so near a relative, when all
could not applaud the act. She feared, too, that her own
partiality might deceive her, and that Luis might in truth
be the light and frivolous being the sometimes appeared to
be in Castilian eyes, and that the happiness of her ward
would prove the sacrifice of the indiscretion. With these
doubts, then, while she secretly desired the union, she had
in public looked coldly on her nephew's suit; and, though
unable, without a harshness that circumstances would not
warrant, to prevent all intercourse, she had not only taken
frequent occasions to let Mercedes understand her distrust,
but she had observed the precaution not to leave so handsome
a suitor, notwithstanding he was often domiciliated in
her own house, much alone with her ward.
The state of Mercedes' feelings was known only to herself.
She was beautiful, of an honourable family, and an
heiress; and, as human infirmities were as besetting beneath
to-day, she had often heard the supposed faults of Don
Luis's character sneered at, by those who felt distrustful of
his good looks and his opportunities. Few young females
would have had the courage to betray any marked preference
under such circumstances, until prepared to avow their
choice, and to take sides with its subject against the world;
and the quiet but deep enthusiasm that prevailed in the
moral system of the fair young Castilian, was tempered by
a prudence that prevented her from running into most of its
lighter excesses. The forms and observances that usually surround young women of rank, came in aid of this native
prudence; and even Don Luis, himself, though he had
watched the countenance and emotions of her to whom he
had so long urged his suit, with a lover's jealousy and a
lover's instincts, was greatly in doubt whether he had succeeded
in the least, in touching her heart. By one of those
unlooked-for concurrences of circumstances that so often
decide the fortunes of men, whether as lovers or in more
worldly-minded pursuits, these doubts were now about to be
unexpectedly and suddenly removed.
The triumph of the Christian arms, the novelty of her
situation, and the excitement of the whole scene, had
aroused the feelings of Mercedes from that coy concealment
in which they usually lay smothered beneath the covering
of maiden diffidence; and throughout the evening
her smile had been more open, her eye brighter, and her
cheeks more deeply flushed, than was usual even with one
whose smiles were always sweet, whose eyes were never
dull, and whose cheeks answered so sensitively to the varying
impulses within.
As his aunt quitted the room, leaving him alone with Mercedes
for the first time since his return from his last ramble,
Don Luis eagerly threw himself on a stool that stood near
the feet of his adored, who placed herself on a sumptuous
couch, that, twenty-four hours before, had held the person
of a princess of Abdallah's family.
“Much as I honour and reverence Her Highness,” the
young man hurriedly commenced, “my respect and veneration
are now increased ten-fold! Would that she might
send for my beloved aunt thrice where she now wants her
to her sovereign that the affairs of Castile cannot
go on without her counsel, if so blessed an opportunity as
this, to tell you all I feel, Doña Mercedes, is to follow her
obedience!”
“It is not they who are most fluent of speech, or the
most vehement, who always feel the deepest, Don Luis de
Bobadilla.”
“Nor do they feel the least. Mercedes, thou canst not
doubt my love! It hath grown with my growth—increased
with each increase of my ideas—until it hath got to be so
interwoven with my mind itself, that I can scarce use a
faculty that thy dear image doth not mingle with it. In all
that is beautiful, I behold thee; if I listen to the song of a
bird, it is thy carol to the lute; or if I feel the gentle south
wind from the fragrant isles fanning my cheek, I would
fain think it thy sigh.”
“You have dwelt so much among the light conceits of
the French court, Don Luis, you appear to have forgotten
that the heart of a Castilian girl is too true, and too sincere,
to meet such rhapsodies with favour.”
Had Don Luis been older, or more experienced in the
sex, he would have been flattered by this rebuke — for he
would have detected in the speaker's manner, both feeling
of a gentler nature than her words expressed, and a tender
regret.
“If thou ascribest to me rhapsodies, thou dost me great
injustice. I may not do credit to my own thoughts and
feelings; but never hath my tongue uttered aught to thee,
Mercedes, that the heart hath not honestly urged. Have I
not loved thee since thou and I were children? Did I ever
fail to show my preference for thee when we were boy and
girl, in all the sports and light-hearted enjoyments of that
guileless period?”
“Guileless, truly,” answered Mercedes, her look brightening
as it might be with agreeable fancies and a flood of
pleasant recollections — doing more, in a single instant, to
break down the barriers of her reserve, than years of
schooling had effected towards building them up. “Thou
wert then, at least, sincere, Luis, and I placed full faith in
thy friendship, and in thy desire to please.”
“Bless thee, bless thee, for these precious words, Mercedes!
for the first time in two years, hast thou spoken to
me as thou wert wont to do, and called me Luis, without
that courtly, accursed, Don.”
“A noble Castilian should never regard his honours
lightly, and he oweth it to his rank to see that others respect
them, too;” answered our heroine, looking down, as
if she already half repented of the familiarity. “You are
quick to remind me of my forgetfulness, Don Luis de Bobadilla.”
“This unlucky tongue of mine can never follow the path
that its owner wisheth! Hast thou not seen in all my looks
— all my acts — all my motives — a desire to please thee,
and thee alone, lovely Mercedes? When Her Highness
gave her royal approbation of my success, in the last
tourney, did I not seek thine eye, in order to ask if thou
noted'st it? Hast thou ever expressed a wish, that I have
not proved an eager desire to see it accomplished?”
“Nay, now, Luis, thou emboldenest me to remind thee
that I expressed a wish that thou would'st not go on thy
last voyage to the north, and yet thou didst depart! I felt
that it would displease Doña Beatriz; thy truant disposition
having made her uneasy lest thou should'st get altogether
into the habits of a rover, and into disfavour with
the queen.”
“It was for this that thou mad'st the request, and it
wounded my pride to think that Mercedes de Valverde
should so little understand my character, as to believe it
possible a noble of my name and lineage could so far forget
his duties as to sink into the mere associate of pilots
and adventurers.”
“Thou didst not know that I believed this of thee.”
“Hadst thou asked of me, Mercedes, to remain for thy
sake — nay, hadst thou imposed the heaviest services on
me, as thy knight, or, as one who enjoyed the smallest degree
of thy favour—I would have parted with life sooner than
I would have parted from Castile. But not even a look of
kindness could I obtain, in reward for all the pain I had
felt on thy account”—
“Pain, Luis!”
“Is it not pain to love to the degree that one might kiss
to meet with no encouragement from fair words, no friendly
glance of the eye, nor any sign or symbol to betoken that
the being one hath enshrined in his heart's core, ever thinketh
of her suitor except as a reckless rover and a harebrained
adventurer?”
“Luis de Bobadilla, no one that really knoweth thy
character, can ever truly think thus of thee.”
“A million of thanks for these few words, beloved girl,
and ten millions for the gentle smile that hath accompanied
them! Thou might'st mould me to all thy wishes”—
“My wishes, Don Luis!”
“To all thy severe opinions of sobriety and dignity of
conduct, would'st thou but feel sufficient interest in me to let
me know that my acts can give thee either pain or pleasure.”
“Can it be otherwise? Could'st thou, Luis, see with indifference
the proceedings of one thou hast known from
childhood, and esteemed as a friend?”
“Esteem! Blessed Mercedes! dost thou own even that
little in my favour?”
“It is not little, Luis, to esteem—but much. They who
prize virtue never esteem the unworthy; and it is not possible
to know thy excellent heart and manly nature, without
esteeming thee. Surely I have never concealed my
esteem from thee, or from any one else.”
“Hast thou concealed aught? Ah! Mercedes, complete
this heavenly condescension, and admit that one—as lightly
as thou wilt — but, that one soft sentiment hath, at times,
mingled with this esteem.”
Mercedes blushed brightly, but she would not make the
often-solicited acknowledgment. It was some little time
before she answered at all. When she did speak, it was
hesitatingly, and with frequent pauses, as if she distrusted
the propriety or the discretion of that which she was about
to utter.
“Thou hast travelled much and far, Luis,” she said,
“and hast lost some favour on account of thy roving propensities;
why not regain the confidence of thy aunt by
the very means through which it has been lost?”
“I do not comprehend thee. This is singular counsel to
come from one like thee, who art prudence itself!”
“The prudent and discreet think well of their acts and
words, and are the more to be confided in. Thou seemest
to have been struck with these bold opinions of the Señor
Colon; and while thou hast derided them, I can see that
they have great weight on thy mind.”
“I shall, henceforth, regard thee with tenfold respect,
Mercedes; for thou hast penetrated deeper than my foolish
affectation of contempt, and all my light language, and discovered
the real feeling that lieth underneath. Ever since I
have heard of this vast project, it hath indeed haunted my
imagination; and the image of the Genoese hath constantly
stood beside thine, dearest girl, before my eyes, if
not in my heart. I doubt if there be not some truth in his
opinions; so noble an idea can not be wholly false!”
The fine, full eye of Mercedes was fastened intently on
the countenance of Don Luis; and its brilliancy increased,
as some of that latent enthusiasm which dwelt within, kindled
and began to glow at this outlet of the feelings of the
soul.
“There is,” she answered, solemnly — “there must be
truth in it! The Genoese hath been inspired of Heaven,
with his sublime thoughts, and he will live, sooner or later,
to prove their truth. Imagine this earth fairly encircled by
a ship; the farthest east, the land of the heathen, brought
in close communion with ourselves, and the cross casting
its shadows under the burning sun of Cathay! These are
glorious, heavenly, anticipations, Luis; and would it not be
an imperishable renown, to share in the honour of having
aided in bringing about so great a discovery?”
“By Heaven! I will see the Genoese as soon as the
morrow's sun shall appear, and offer to make one in his
enterprise. He shall not need for gold, if that be his only
want.”
“Thou speakest like a generous, noble-minded, fearless
young Castilian, as thou art!” said Mercedes, with an enthusiasm
that set at naught the usual guards of her discretion
and her habits, “and as becometh Luis de Bobadilla.
But gold is not plenty with any of us at this moment,
and it will surpass the power of an ordinary subject
that any but sovereigns should send forth such an expedition,
as there may be vast territories to govern and dispose
of, should Colon succeed. My powerful kinsman, the Duke
of Medina Celi, hath had this matter in close deliberation,
and he viewed it favourably, as is shown by his letters to
Her Highness; but even he conceived it a matter too
weighty to be attempted by aught but a crowned head, and
he hath used much influence with our mistress, to gain her
over to the opinion of the Genoese's sagacity. It is idle to
think, therefore, of aiding effectually in this noble enterprise,
unless it be through their Highnesses.”
“Thou knowest, Mercedes, that I can do nought for
Colon, with the court. The king is the enemy of all who
are not as wary, cold, and as much given to artifice as himself”—
“Luis! thou art in his palace — beneath his roof, enjoying
his hospitality and protection, at this very moment!”
“Not I,” answered the young man, with warmth—“this
is the abode of my royal mistress, Doña Isabella; Granada
being a conquest of Castile, and not of Aragon. Touching
the queen, Mercedes, thou shalt never hear disrespectful
word from me, for, like thyself, she is all that is virtuous,
gentle, and kind in woman; but the king hath many of the
faults of us corrupt and mercenary men. Thou canst not
tell me of a young, generous, warm-blooded cavalier, even
among his own Aragonese, who truly and confidingly
loveth Don Fernando; whilst all of Castile adore the Doña
Isabella.”
“This may be true, in part, Luis, but it is altogether imprudent.
Don Fernando is a king, and I fear me, from the
little I have seen while dwelling in a court, that they who
manage the affairs of mortals must make large concessions
to their failings, or human depravity will thwart the wisest
measures that can be devised. Moreover, can one truly
love the wife and not esteem the husband? To me it seemeth
that the tie is so near and dear as to leave the virtues
and the characters of a common identity.”
“Surely, thou dost not mean to compare the modest
piety, the holy truth, the sincere virtue, of our royal mistress,
master!”
“I desire not to make comparisons between them, Luis.
We are bound to honour and obey both; and if Doña Isabella
hath more of the confiding truth and pure-heartedness
of her sex, than His Highness, is it not ever so as between
man and woman?”
“If I could really think, that thou likenest me, in any
way, with that managing and false-faced King of Aragon,
much as I love thee, Mercedes, I would withdraw, for ever,
in pure shame.”
“No one will liken thee, Luis, to the false-tongued or the
double-faced; for it is thy failing to speak truth when it might
be better to say nothing, as witness the present discourse,
and to look at those who displease thee, as if ever ready to
point thy lance, and spur thy charger in their very teeth.”
“My looks have been most unfortunate, fair Mercedes,
if they have left such memories in thee!” answered the
youth, reproachfully.
“I speak not, in any manner, touching myself, for to
me, Luis, thou hast ever been gentle and kind,” interrupted
the young Castilian girl, with a haste and earnestness that
hurried the blood to her cheeks a moment afterwards; “but,
solely, that thou may'st bo more guarded in thy remarks
on the king.”
“Thou began'st by saying that I was a rover”—
“Nay, I have used no such term of reproach, Don Luis;
thy aunt may have said this; but it could have been with
no intent to wound. I said that thou hadst travelled far
and much.”
“Well — well — I merit the title, and shall not complain
of my honours. Thou saidst that I had travelled far and
much, and thou spokest, approvingly, of the project of this
Genoese. Am I to understand, Mercedes, it is thy wish
that I should make one of the adventurers?”
“Such was my meaning, Luis, for I have thought it an
emprise fitting thy daring mind and willing sword; and the
glory of success would atone for a thousand trifling errors
committed under the heat and inconsideration of youth.”
Don Luis regarded the flushed cheek and brightened eyes
of the beautiful enthusiast nearly a minute, in silent but
had fastened on him, and, with the self-distrust of true affection,
he questioned how far he was worthy to interest so
fair a being, and had misgivings concerning the motive that
induced her to wish him to depart.
“I wish I could read thy heart, Doña Mercedes,” he at
length resumed; “for, while the witching modesty and coy
reserve of thy sex, serve but to bind us so much the closer
in thy chains, they puzzle the understanding of men more
accustomed to rude encounters in the field than to the mazes
of their ingenuity. Dost thou desire me to embark in an
adventure that most men, the wise and prudent Don Fernando
at their head — he whom thou so much esteemest,
too — look upon as the project of a visionary, and as leading
to certain destruction? Did I think this, I would depart
to-morrow, if it were only that my hated presence should
never more disturb thy happiness.”
“Don Luis, you have no justification for this cruel suspicion,”
said Mercedes, endeavouring to punish her lover's
distrust by an affection of resentment, though the tears
struggled through her pride, and fell from her reproachful
eyes. “You know that no one, here or elsewhere, hateth
you; you know that you are a general favourite, though
Castilian prudence and Castilian reserve may not always
view your wandering life with the same applause as they
give to the more attentive courtier and rigidly observant
knight.”
“Pardon me, dearest, most beloved Mercedes; thy coldness
and aversion sometime madden me.”
“Coldness! aversion! Luis de Bobadilla! When hath
Mercedes de Valverde ever shown either, to thee?”
“I fear that Doña Mercedes de Valverde is, even now,
putting me to some such proof.”
“Then thou little knowest her motives, and ill appreciatest
her heart. No, Luis, I am not averse, and would not
appear cold, to thee. If thy wayward feelings get so much
the mastery, and pain thee thus, I will strive to be more
plain. Yes! rather than thou should'st carry away with
thee the false notion, and perhaps plunge, again, into some
unthinking sea-adventure, I will subdue my maiden pride,
and forget the reserve and caution that best become my sex
thyself to this Colon, and to enter freely into his noble
schemes, I had thine own happiness in view, as thou hast,
time and again, sworn to me, thy happiness could only be
secured”—
“Mercedes! what mean'st thou? My happiness can
only be secured by a union with thee!”
“And thy union with me can only be secured by thy ennobling
that besetting propensity to roving, by some act
of worthy renown, that shall justify Doña Beatriz in bestowing
her ward on a truant nephew, and gain the favour
of Doña Isabella.”
“And thou!—would this adventure win thee, too, to view
me with kindness?”
“Luis, if thou wilt know all, I am won already—nay—
restrain this impetuosity, and hear all I have to say.
Even while I confess so much more than is seemly in a
maiden, thou art not to suppose I can farther forget myself.
Without the cheerful consent of my guardian, and the gracious
approbation of Her Highness, I will wed no man—
no, not even thee, Luis de Bobadilla, dear as I acknowledge
thee to be to my heart”— the ungovernable emotions of
female tenderness caused the words to be nearly smothered
in tears—“would I wed, without the smiles and congratulations
of all who have a right to smile, or weep, for any
of the house of Valverde. Thou and I cannot marry like
a village hind and village girl; it is suitable that we
stand before a prelate, with a large circle of approving
friends to grace our union. Ah! Luis, thou hast reproached
me with coldness and indifference to thee” — sobs nearly
stifled the generous girl — “but others have not been so
blind—nay, speak not, but suffer me, now that my heart is
overflowing, to unburthen myself to thee, entirely, for I
fear that shame and regret will come soon enough to cause
repentance for what I now confess — but all have not been
blind as thou. Our gracious queen well understandeth the
female heart, and that, thou hast been so slow to discover,
she hath long seen; and her quickness of eye and thought
hath alone prevented me from saying to thee, earlier, a part
at least of that which I now reluctantly confess”—
“How! Is Doña Isabella, too, my enemy? Have I Her
cold-hearted and prudish aunt?”
“Luis, thy intemperance causeth thee to be unjust.
Doña Beatriz of Moya is neither cold-hearted nor prudish,
but all that is the reverse. A more generous or truer spirit
never sacrificed self to friendship, and her very nature is
frankness and simplicity. Much of that I so love in thee,
cometh of her family, and thou should'st not reproach her
for it. As for Her Highness, certes, it is not needed that I
should proclaim her qualities. Thou knowest that she is
deemed the mother of her people; that she regardeth the
interests of all equally, or so far as her knowledge will
allow; and that what she doth for any, is ever done with
true affection, and a prudence that I have heard the cardinal
say, seemeth to be inspired by infinite wisdom.”
“Ay, it is not difficult, Mercedes, to seem prudent, and
benevolent, and inspired, with Castile for a throne, and
Leon, with other rich provinces, for a footstool!”
“Don Luis, if you would retain my esteem,” answered
the single-minded girl, with a gravity that had none of her
sex's weakness in it, though much of her sex's truth —
“speak not lightly of my royal mistress. Whatever she
may have done in this matter, hath been done with a mother's
feelings and a mother's kindness — thy injustice
maketh me almost to apprehend, with a mother's wisdom.”
“Forgive me, adored, beloved Mercedes! a thousand
times more adored and loved than ever, now that thou hast
been so generous and confiding. But, I cannot rest in
peace until I know what the queen hath said and done, in
any thing that toucheth thee and me.”
“Thou knowest how kind and gracious the queen hath
ever been to me, Luis, and how much I have reason to be
grateful for her many condescensions and favours. I know
not how it is, but, while thy aunt hath never seemed to detect
my feelings, and all those related to me by blood have
appeared to be in the same darkness, the royal eye hath
penetrated a mystery that, at the moment, I do think, was
even concealed from myself. Thou rememberest the tourney
that took place just before thou left us on thy last mad
expedition?”
“Do I not? Was it not thy coldness after my success
not only drove me out of Spain, but almost drove me out
of the world?”
“If the world could impute thy acts to such a cause, all
obstacles would at once be removed, and we might be happy
without further efforts. But,” and Mercedes smiled archly,
though with great tenderness in her voice and looks, as she
added, “I fear thou art much addicted to these fits of madness,
and that thou wilt never cease to wish to be driven to
the uttermost limits of the world, if not fairly out of it.”
“It is in thy power to make me as stationary as the
towers of this Alhambra. One such smile, daily, would
chain me like a captive Moor at thy feet, and take away
all desire to look at other objects than thy beauty. But Her
Highness — thou hast forgotten to add what Her Highness
hath said and done.”
“In that tourney thou wert conqueror, Luis! The whole
chivalry of Castile was in the saddle, that glorious day, and
yet none could cope with thee! Even Alonzo de Ojeda
was unhorsed by thy lance, and all mouths were filled with
thy praises; all memories — perhaps it would be better to
say that all memories but one, forgot thy failings.”
“And that one was thine, cruel Mercedes!”
“Thou knowest better, unkind Luis! That day I remembered
nothing but thy noble, generous heart, manly
bearing in the tilt-yard, and excellent qualities. The more
mindful memory was the queen's, who sent for me, to her
closet, when the festivities were over, and caused me to
pass an hour with her, in gentle, affectionate, discourse,
before she touched at all, on the real object of her command.
She spoke to me, Luis, of our duties as Christians,
of our duties as females, and, most of all, of the solemn
obligations that we contract in wedlock, and of the many
pains that, at best, attend that honoured condition. When
she had melted me to tears, by an affection that equalled a
mother's love, she made me promise — and I confirmed it
with a respectful vow — that I would never appear at the
altar, while she lived, without her being present to approve
of my nuptials; or, if prevented by disease or duty, at
least not without a consent given under her royal signature.”
“By St. Denis of Paris! Her Highness endeavoured to
influence thy generous and pure mind against me!”
“Thy name was not even mentioned, Luis, nor would it
have been in any way concerned in the discourse, had not
my unbidden thoughts turned anxiously towards thee.
What Her Highness mediated, I do not even now know;
but it was the manner in which my own sensitive feelings
brought up thy image, that hath made me, perhaps idly,
fancy the effect might be to prevent me from wedding
thee, without Doña Isabella's consent. But, knowing, as I
well do, her maternal heart and gentle affections, how can
I doubt that she will yield to my wishes, when she knoweth
that my choice is not really unworthy, though it may seem
to the severely prudent in some measure indiscreet.”
“But thou thinkest — thou feelest, Mercedes, that it was
in fear of me that Her Highness extorted the vow?”
“I apprehended it, as I have confessed with more readiness
than became a maiden's pride, because thou wert uppermost
in my mind. Then thy triumphs throughout the
day, and the manner in which thy name was in all men's
mouths, might well tempt the thoughts to dwell on thy
person.”
“Mercedes, thou canst not deny that thou believest Her
Highness extorted that vow in dread of me!”
“I wish to deny nothing that is true, Don Luis; and you
are early teaching me to repent of the indiscreet avowal I
have made. That it was in dread of you that Her Highness
spoke, I do deny; for I cannot think she has any
such feelings towards you. She was full of maternal affection
for me, and I think, for I will conceal naught that I
truly believe, that apprehension of thy powers to please,
Luis, may have induced her to apprehend that an orphan
girl, like myself, might possibly consult her fancy more
than her prudence, and wed one who seemed to love the
uttermost limits of the earth so much better than his own
noble castles and his proper home.”
“And thou meanest to respect this vow?”
“Luis! thou scarce reflectest on thy words, or a question
so sinful would not be put to me! What Christian
maiden ever forgets her vows, whether of pilgrimage, penitence,
or performance — and why should I be the first to
simple wish of the queen, expressed in her own royal person,
would have been enough to deter me from wedding
any. She is my sovereign, mistress, and, I might almost
say, mother; Doña Beatriz herself scarce manifesting
greater interest in my welfare. Now, Luis, thou must listen
to my suit, although I see thou art ready to exclaim, and
protest, and invoke; but I have heard thee patiently some
years, and it is now my turn to speak and thine to listen.
I do think the queen had thee in her mind on the occasion
of that vow, which was offered freely by me, rather than
extorted, as thou seemest to think, by Her Higness. I do
then believe that Doña Isabella supposed there might be a
danger of my yielding to thy suit, and that she had apprehensions
that one so much given to roving, might not bring,
or keep, happiness in the bosom of a family. But, Luis,
if Her Highness hath not done thy noble, generous heart,
justice; if she hath been deceived by appearances, like
most of those around her; if she hath not known thee, in
short, is it not thine own fault? Hast thou not been a frequent
truant from Castile, and, even when present, hast
thou been as attentive and assiduous in thy duties at Court,
as becometh thy high birth and admitted claims? It is true,
Her Highness, and all others who were present, witnessed
thy skill in the tourney, and in these wars thy name hath
had frequent and honourable mention for prowess against
the Moor; but while the female imagination yields ready
homage to this manliness, the female heart yearneth for
other, and gentler, and steadier virtues, at the fireside and
in the circle within. This, Doña Isabella hath seen, and
felt, and knoweth, happy as hath been her own marriage with
the King of Aragon; and is it surprising that she hath felt
this concern for me? No, Luis; feeling hath made thee
unjust to our royal mistress, whom it is now manifestly thy
interest to propitiate, if thou art sincere in thy avowed
desire to obtain my hand.”
“And how is this to be done, Mercedes? The Moor is
conquered, and I know not that any knight would meet me
to do battle for thy favour.”
“The queen wisheth nothing of this sort — neither do I.
We both know thee as an accomplished Christian knight,
thy lance, for no one hath met with the encouragement to
justify the folly. It is through this Colon that thou art to
win the royal consent.”
“I believe I have, in part, conceived thy meaning; but
would fain hear thee speak more plainly.”
“Then I will tell thee in words as distinct as my tongue
can utter them,” rejoined the ardent girl, the tint of tenderness
gradually deepening on her cheek to the flush of a
holy enthusiasm, as she proceeded: “Thou knowest
already the general opinions of the Señor Colon, and the
mode in which he proposeth to effect his ends. I was still
a child when he first appeared in Castile, to urge the Court
to embark in this great enterprise, and I can see that Her
Highness hath often been disposed to yield her aid, when
the coldness of Don Fernando, or the narrowness of her
ministers, hath diverted her mind from the object. I think
she yet regardeth the scheme with favour; for it is quite
lately that Colon, who had taken leave of us all, with
the intent to quit Spain and seek elsewhere for means,
was summoned to return, through the influence of Fray
Juan Perez, the ancient confessor of Her Highness. He is
now here, as thou hast seen, waiting impatiently for an
audience, and it needeth only to quicken the queen's memory,
to obtain for him that favour. Should he get the
caravels he asketh, no doubt many of the nobles will feel a
desire to share in an enterprise that will confer lasting
honour on all concerned, if successful; and thou might'st
make one.”
“I know not how to regard this solicitude, Mercedes, for
it seemeth strange to wish to urge those we affect to value,
to enter on an expedition whence they may never return.”
“God will protect thee!” answered the girl, her face
glowing with pious ardour: “the enterprise will be undertaken
for his glory, and his powerful hand will guide and
shield the caravels.”
Don Luis de Bobadilla smiled, having far less religious
faith and more knowledge of physical obstacles than his
mistress. He did full justice to her motives, notwithstanding
his hastily expressed doubts; and the adventure was
of a nature to arouse his constitutional love of roving, and
well knew that he had fairly earned no small part of that
distrust of his character, which alone thwarted their wishes;
and, quick of intellect, he well understood the means and
manner by which he was to gain Doña Isabella's consent.
The few doubts that he really entertained were revealed by
the question that succeeded.
“If Her Highness is disposed to favour this Colon,” he
asked, “why hath the measure been so long delayed?”
“This Moorish war, an empty treasury, and the wary
coldness of the king, have prevented it.”
“Might not Her Highness look upon all the followers of
the man, as so many vain schemers, should we return without
success, as will most likely be the case — if, indeed,
we ever return?”
“Such is not Doña Isabella's character. She will enter
into this project, in honour of God, if she entereth into it at
all; and she will regard all who accompany Colon voluntarily,
as so many crusaders, well entitled to her esteem.
Thou wilt not return unsuccessful, Luis; but with such
credit as will cause thy wife to glory in her choice, and to
be proud of thy name.”
“Thou art a most dear enthusiast, beloved girl! If I
could take thee with me, I would embark in the adventure,
with no other companion.”
A fitting reply was made to this gallant, and, at the moment
certainly, sincere speech, after which the matter was
discussed between the two, with greater calmness and far
more intelligibly. Don Luis succeeded in restraining his
impatience; and the generous confidence with which Mercedes
gradually got to betray her interest in him, and the
sweet, holy earnestness with which she urged the probability
of success, brought him at length to view the enterprise
as one of lofty objects, rather than as a scheme which
flattered his love of adventure.
Doña Beatriz left the lovers alone for quite two hours,
the queen requiring her presence all that time; and soon
after she returned, her reckless, roving, indiscreet, but
noble-hearted and manly nephew, took his leave. Mercedes
and her guardian, however, did not retire until midnight;
the former laying open her whole heart to the marchioness,
with the enterprise of Colon. Doña Beatriz was
both gratified and pained by this confession, while she
smiled at the ingenuity of love, in coupling the great designs
of the Genoese with the gratification of its own
wishes. Still she was not displeased. Luis de Bobadilla
was the son of an only and much-beloved brother, and she
had transferred to her nephew most of the affection she had
felt for the father. All who knew him, indeed, were fond
of the handsome and gallant young cavalier, though the
prudent felt compelled to frown on his indiscretions; and
he might have chosen a wife, at will, from among the fair
and high-born of Castile, with the few occasional exceptions
that denote the circumspection and reserve of higher
principles than common, and a forethought that extends
beyond the usual considerations of marriage. The marchioness,
therefore, was not an unwilling listener to her
ward; and ere they separated for the night, the ingenuous
but modest confessions, the earnest eloquence, and the tender
ingenuity, of Mercedes, had almost made a convert of
Doña Beatriz.
| CHAPTER V. Mercedes of Castile, or, The voyage to Cathay | |