Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 60, No. 372, October 1846

"Incredulous animal! just hold Nero for five minutes, and you shall have ocular demonstration of my powers of acting. Parbleu! you shall see that I can be solemn and awkward enough to frighten half the petites maîtresses of Paris into the vapours." And, so saying, De Lucenay sprang from his saddle, and consigning the bridle into his friend's hands, ran towards a little brook, which trickled through the grass at a short distance from the roadside; but not before he had made his friend promise to abstain from casting any profane glances on his toilet till it was accomplished.

Wisely resolving to avoid temptation, Alphonse turned away, when, to his surprise, he perceived the muleteer halting on a rising ground at a little distance. "By Jove! that insolent dog has been watching us. Scoundrel, will you move on?" he exclaimed in French, raising his voice angrily, when, suddenly recollecting himself, he terminated the unfinished phrase by "Sigue tu camin! Picaro! Bribon!" while he shook his pistol menacingly at the man's head – a threat which did not seem to intimidate him much, for, though he resumed his journey, his rich sonorous voice burst triumphantly forth into one of the patriotic songs; and long after he had disappeared from their eyes, the usual ritournelle, "Viva Fernando! Muera Napoleon!" rang upon the air.

This short interval had more than sufficed for De Lucenay's mysterious operations. And before his friend was tired of fuming and sacreing against Spain and Spaniards, Ernest tapped him on the shoulder, and for once both the young officer's anger and habitual gravity vanished in an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "By Jupiter! it is incredible," he gasped forth, as soon as returning breath would allow him to speak: while Ernest stood silently enjoying his surprise.

"Well, what think you? It will do, will it not? Are you still in fear of a fiasco?"

"Nay! My only fear now is, that the pupil will eclipse the master, and that the more shining light of your talents will cast mine utterly into the shade. By heavens! the transformation is inimitable. Your own father would not know you."

"He would not be the only one in such an unhappy case, then."

Nothing certainly could have been more absurd than the complete metamorphosis which, in those few moments, De Lucenay had contrived to make in his appearance. With the aid of a little fresh water from the rivulet, he had managed to reduce the rich curly locks of his chesnut hair to an almost Quaker flatness; the shirt collar, which had been turned down, was now drawn up to his cheek-bones, and with his hat placed perpendicularly on the crown of his head, one arm crossed under the tails of his coat, and the other balancing his whip, its handle resting on his lips, the corners of which were drawn puritanically down, and his half-closed eyes staring vacantly on the points of his boots, he stood the living picture of an automaton.

"Well, would you not swear that I was a regular boule-dog Anglais?" exclaimed Earnest, stalking up and down for his friend's inspection, while he rounded his shoulders, and carried his chin in the air, in order to increase the resemblance.

"Excellent! – only not so much laisser aller; a little more stiff – more drawn up! That will do – oh, it's perfect!" And again Alphonse burst into a peal of laughter, in which De Lucenay, notwithstanding his newly-assumed gravity, could not refrain from joining.

"Let me see, – That coat fits a great deal too well, too close. We must rip out some of the wadding, just to let it make a few wrinkles; it ought to hang quite loosely, in order to be in character."

"Gently, mon cher!" interposed De Lucenay, as his friend drew out a pen-knife. "To satisfy you, I have injured the sit of my cravat, I have hidden the classic contour of my neck, I have destroyed the Antinöus-like effect of my coiffure– those curls which were the despair of all my rivals in conquest – I have consented to look like a wretch impaled, and thus renounce all the bonnes fortunes that awaited me during the next four-and-twenty hours; and now you venture to propose, with the coolest audacity, that I should crown all these sacrifices by utterly destroying the symmetry of my figure. No, no, mon cher! that is too much; cut yourself up as you please, but spare your friend."

"Vive Dieu!" laughed Alphonse. "It is lucky that you have absorbed such an unreasonable proportion of vanity that you have left none for me. To spare the acuteness of your feelings, I will be the victim. Here goes!" And, so saying, he ripped up the lining of his coat, and scattered a few handfuls of wadding to the winds. "Will that do?"

"Oh, capitally! I would rather you wore it than me; it has as many wrinkles as St Marceau's forehead."

"Forward, then, et vogue la galère!" exclaimed Alphonse, as De Lucenay vaulted into his saddle, and the cavaliers spurred on their horses to a rapid canter.

"Apropos!" exclaimed De Lucenay, as they approached the castle; "we ought to lay our plans, and make a proper arrangement beforehand, like honest, sociable brothers-in-arms; it would never do to stand in each other's light, and mar our mutual hopes of success by cutting each others' throats for the sake of the bella."

"Oh, as for me, you are welcome to all my interest in the Doña's heart beforehand; for I never felt less disposed to fall in love than I do at present."

"You are delightful in theory, caro mio; but as your practice might be somewhat different, suppose we make a little compact, upon fair terms, viz., that the choice is to depend on the señora herself; that whoever she distinguishes, the other is to relinquish his claims at once, and thenceforth devote all his energies to the assistance of his friend. We cannot both carry her off, you know; so it is just as well to settle all these little particulars in good time."

"Oh! as you please. I am quite willing to sign and seal any compact that will set your mind at rest; though, for my part, I declare off beforehand."

"Well, then, it is a done thing; give me your hand on it. Parole d'honneur!" said De Lucenay, stretching out his.

"Parole d'honneur," returned his friend, with a smile.

"But to return to the elopement" —

"Gad! How you fly on! There will be two words to that part of the story, I suspect. Doña Inez will probably not be quite so easily charmed as our dear little grisettes; and she must be consulted, I suppose; unless, indeed, you intend to carry the fort by storm; the current of your love nay not flow as smoothly as you expect."

"Oh, as for that, leave it to me. Spanish women have too good a taste, and we Frenchmen are too irresistible to leave me any fears on that score; besides, she must be devilishly difficult if neither of us suit her. You are dark, and I fair – you are pensive, and I gay – you poetic, and I witty. The deuce is in it, if she does not fall in love with either one or other!

"Add to which, the private reservation, no doubt, that if she has one atom of discernment, it is a certain volage, giddy, young aide-de-camp that she will select."

"Why, if I had but fair play; but as my tongue will not be allowed to shine, I must leave the captivation part to my yeux doux. Who knows, though?" —

"Oh, vanitas vanitatum!" exclaimed Alphonse, with a laugh.

"I might say the same of a certain rebellious aristocrat, who lays claim to the euphonious patronymic of La Tour d'Auvergne, with a pedigree that dates from the Flood, and a string of musty ancestors who might put the patriarchs to the blush; but I am more generous;" and De Lucenay began carelessly to hum a few bars of La Carmagnole.

"Softly!" said his more prudent friend. "We are drawing near the chateau, and you might as well wear a cockade tricolor as let them hear that."

It was an antique, half-Gothic, half-Saracenic looking edifice, which they now approached. A range of light arcades, whose delicate columns, wreathed round with the most graceful foliage, seemed almost too slight to sustain the massive structure which rose above them, surrounded the pian terreno. Long tiers of pointed windows, mingled with exquisite fretwork, and one colossal balcony, with a rich crimson awning, completed the façade. Beneath the portico, numbers of servants and retainers were lounging about, enjoying the fresco. Some, stretched out at full length on the marble benches that lined the open arcades, were fast asleep; others, seated à la Turque upon the ground, were busily engaged in a noisy game of cards. But the largest group of all had collected round a handsome Moorish-looking Andalusian, who, leaning against the wall, was lazily rasping the chords of a guitar that was slung over his shoulder, while he sang one of those charming little Tiranas, to which he improvised the usual nonsense words as he proceeded; anon the deep mellow voices of his auditory would mingle with the "Ay de mi chaira mia! Luz de mi alma!" &c. of the ritournelle, and then again the soft deep tones of the Andalusian rang alone upon the air.

As no one seemed to heed their approach, the two young men stood for a few moments in silence, listening delightedly to the music, which now melted into the softer strain of a Seguidilla, now brightened into the more brilliant measure of a Bolero. Suddenly, in the midst of it, the singer broke off, and springing on his feet as if inspired, he dashed his hands across the strings. Like an electric shock, the well-known chords of the Tragala aroused his hearers – every one crowded round the singer. The players threw down their cards, the loungers stood immovable, even the sleepers started into life; and all chorusing in enthusiastically, a burst of melody arose of which no one unacquainted with the rich and thrilling harmony peculiar to Spanish voices, can form an idea.

"Ernest," said La Tour d'Auvergne in a whisper, "we shall never conquer such a people: Napoleon himself cannot do it."

"Perhaps," replied his friend in the same tone. "They are desperately national; it will be tough work, at all events. But, come on; as the song is finished, we have some chance of making ourselves heard now." And De Lucenay spurred his horse up to the entrance. At their repeated calls for attendance, two or three servants hastened out of the vestibule and held their horses as they dismounted. They became infinitely more attentive, however, on hearing that the strangers were English officers, the bearers of dispatches to their master; and a dark Figaro-looking laquey, in whose lively roguish countenance the Frenchmen would have had no difficulty in recognising a Biscayan, even without the aid of his national and picturesque costume, offered to usher them into the presence of the Conde.

Their guide led the way through the long and lofty vestibule, which opened on a superb marble colonnade that encircled the patio or court, in the centre of which two antique and richly-sculptured fountains were casting up their glittering jets-d'eau in the proscribed form of fleurs-de-lis, to be received again in two wide porphyry basins. Traversing the patio, they ascended a fine marble staircase, from the first flight of which branched off several suites of apartments. Taking the one to the right, the young men had full leisure to observe the splendour that surrounded them, as they slowly followed their conductor from one long line of magnificent rooms into another. Notwithstanding many modern alterations, the character of the whole building was too evidently Eastern to admit a doubt as to its Moorish origin. Every where the most precious marbles, agates, and lapis-lazuli, oriental jasper, porphyry of every variety, dazzled the eye. In the centre of many of the rooms there played a small fountain; in others there were four, one in each angle. Large divans of the richest crimson and violet brocades lined the walls, while ample curtains of the same served in lieu of doors. But what particularly struck the friends was the brilliant beauty of the arabesques that covered the ceilings, and the exquisite chiselling of the cornices, and the framework of the windows.

"The palace is beautiful, is it not?" said the Biscayan, as he perceived the admiring glances they cast around them. "It ought to be, for it was one of the summer dwellings of il rey Moro; and those ereticos malditos cared but little what treasures they lavished on their pleasures. It came into my master's possession as a descendant of the Cid, to whom it was given as a guerdon for his services."

"What a numerous progeny that famous hero must have had! He was a wonderful man!" exclaimed De Lucenay, with extreme gravity.

"Si, señor – un hombre maravilloso en verdad," replied the Spaniard, whom, notwithstanding his natural acuteness, the seriousness of De Lucenay's manner and countenance had prevented from discovering the irony of his words. "But now señores," he continued, as they reached a golden tissue-draped door, "we are arrived. The next room is the comedor, where the family are at supper."

"Then, perhaps, we had better wait a while. We would not wish to disturb them."

"Oh, by no means! The Conde would be furious if you were kept waiting an instant. The English are great favourites of his. Besides, they must have finished by this time." And raising the curtain, they entered an immense frescoed hall, which was divided in the centre by a sort of transparent partition of white marble, some fourteen or fifteen feet in height, so delicately pierced and chiseled, that it resembled lace-work much more than stone. A pointed doorway, supported by twisted columns, as elaborately carved and ornamented as the rest, opened into the upper part of the hall, which was elevated a step higher. In the centre of this, a table was superbly laid out with a service of massive gold; while the fumes of the viands was entirely overpowered by the heavy perfume of the colossal bouquets of flowers which stood in sculptured silver and gold vases on the plateau. Around the table were seated about twenty persons, amongst whom the usual sprinkling of sacerdotes was not wanting. A stern, but noble-looking man sat at the upper end of the table, and seemed to do the honours to the rest of the company.

The Conde – for it was he – rose immediately on receiving the message which the young officers had sent in; while they waited its answer in the oriel window, being unwilling to break in so unceremoniously upon a party which seemed so much larger, and more formal, than any they had been prepared to meet. Their host received them most courteously as they presented their credentials – namely, a letter from the English general, Wilson, who commanded the forces stationed at the city of S – , about sixty miles distant from the chateau. As the Conde ran his glance over its contents, – in which the general informed him that within three or four days he would reach R – , when he intended to avail himself of the Conde's often proffered hospitality, till when he recommended his two aides-de-camp to his kindness, – the politeness of their welcome changed to the most friendly cordiality.

"Señores," he said, "I am most grateful to his excellency for the favour he has conferred on me, in choosing my house during his stay here. I feel proud and happy to shelter beneath my roof any of our valued and brave allies. – But you must have had a hard day's ride of it, I should think."

"Why, yes, it was a tolerable morning's work," replied De Lucenay, who felt none of Alphonse's embarrassment.

"Pablo, place seats for their excellencies," said the Conde to one of the domestics who stood around; while he motioned to the soi-disant Englishmen to enter the supper-room, in which the clatter of tongues and plates had sensibly diminished, ever since the commencement of the mysterious conference which had been taking place beyond its precincts. "You must be greatly in want of some refreshment, for the wretched posadas on the road cannot have offered you any thing eatable."

"They were not very tempting, certainly; however, we are pretty well used to them by this time," replied De Lucenay. "But, Señor Conde, really we are scarcely presentable in such a company," he added, as he looked down on his dust-covered boots and dress.

"What matter? You must not be so ceremonious with us; you cannot be expected to come off a journey as if you had just emerged from a lady's boudoir," answered the Conde with a smile. "Besides, these are only a few intimate friends who have assembled to celebrate my daughter's fête-day." And, so saying, he led them up to the table, and presented them to the circle as Lord Beauclerc and Sir Edward Trevor, aides-de-camp to General Wilson. "And now," he added, "I must introduce you to the lady of the castle; my daughter, Doña Inez;" and turning to a slight elegant-looking girl, who might have been about sixteen or seventeen, he said – "Mi queridita, these gentlemen have brought me the welcome news that our friend the English general will be here in three or four days at the latest; the corps will be quartered in the neighbourhood, but the general and his aides-de-camp will reside with us. Therefore, as they are likely to remain some time, we must all do our utmost to render their stay amongst us as agreeable to them as possible."

"I shall be most happy to contribute to it as far as it is in my slight power," replied Doña Inez in a low sweet voice, while she raised her large lustrous eyes to those of Alphonse, which for the last five minutes had been gazing as if transfixed upon her beautiful countenance.

Starting as if from a dream, he stammered out, "Señorita, I – I – ," when fortunately De Lucenay came to his assistance, with one of those little well-turned flattering speeches for which French tact is so unrivalled; and as the company politely made room for them, they seated themselves beside her.

"Don Fernando," said the Conde to a haughty, grave-looking man, who sat next to De Lucenay, while he resumed his place at the head of the table, "you and Inez, I trust, will take care of our new friends. Pobrecitos, they must be half famished by their day's expedition, and this late hour."

But the recommendation was superfluous; every one vied with his neighbour in attending to the two strangers, who, on their part, were much more intent on contemplating the fair mistress of the mansion, than on doing honour to the profusion of friandises that were piled before them.

Doña Inez was indeed beautiful, beyond the usual measure of female loveliness: imagination could not enhance, nor description give an idea of the charm that fascinated all those who gazed upon her: features cast in the most classic mould – a complexion that looked as if no southern sun had ever smiled on it. But the eyes! – the large, dark, liquid orbs, whose glance would now seem almost dazzling in its excessive brightness, and now melted into all the softness of Oriental languor, as the long, gloomy Circassian lashes drooped over them! As Alphonse looked upon her, he could have almost fancied himself transported to Mohammed's paradise, and taken the Spanish maiden for a houri; but that there was a soul in those magnificent eyes – a nobleness in the white and lofty brow – a dignity in the calm and pensive calmness, which spoke of higher and better things.

But if her appearance enchanted him, her manners were not less winning; unembarrassed and unaffected, her graceful and natural ease in a few moments contrived to make them feel as much at home as another would have done in as many hours. Much to the young Frenchmen's regret, however, they were not long allowed to enjoy their aparté in quiet; for a thin sallow-looking priest, whom Doña Inez had already designated to them as the Padre Confessor, interrupted them in a few minutes, and the conversation became general.

"It is a great satisfaction to us all to see you here, señores," he said. "First, as it procures us the pleasure of becoming personally acquainted with our good friends and allies the English; and, secondly, as a guarantee that we are not likely to have our sight polluted by any of those sacrilegious demons the French, while you are amongst us."

"Gracias a Dios!" energetically rejoined the cappellan– a fat, rosy, good-humoured looking old man, the very antipodes of his grim confrère. "The saints preserve me from ever setting eyes on them again! You must know, señores, that some six weeks ago I had gone to collect some small sums due to the convent, and was returning quietly home with a lay brother, when I had the misfortune to fall in with a troop of those sons of Belial, whom I thought at least a hundred miles off. Would you believe it, señores! without any respect for my religious habit, the impious dogs laid violent hands on me; laughed in my face when I told them I was almoner to the holy community of Sancta Maria de los Dolores; and vowing that they were sure that my frock was well lined, actually forced me to strip to the skin, in order to despoil me of the treasure of the Church! Luckily, however the Holy Virgin had inspired me to hide it in the mule's saddle-girths, and so, the zechins escaped their greedy fangs. But I had enough of the fright; it laid me up for a week. Misericordia! what a set of cut-throat, hideous-looking ruffians! I thought I should never come alive out of their hands!"

"Jesus!" exclaimed a handsome bronzed-looking Castilian, whom De Lucenay had heard addressed as Doña Encarnacion de Almoceres; "are they really so wicked and so frightful?"

"Without doubt; true demons incarnate," replied the veracious priest.

"Come, come, reverendissimo padre; you are too hard upon the poor devils: I have seen a good-looking fellow amongst them, now and then."

"Bondad sua, señor, I'll be sworn there is not one fit to tie the latchet of your shoe in the whole army."

"Yet how strange, then," recommenced Doña Encarnacion, "the infatuation they excite! I am told that it is inconceivable the numbers of young girls, from sixteen and upwards, who have abandoned their homes and families to follow these brigands. Their want of mature years and understanding," she continued, with a significant glance at Doña Inez – her indignation having been gradually aroused as she perceived the admiration lavished on her by the strangers, and the indifference with which they viewed her riper charms, – "may be one reason; but if the French are so unattractive, such madness is inexplicable."

"Arts, unholy arts all!" cried the Confessor. "Their damnable practices are the cause of it. They rob the damsels of their senses, with their infernal potions and elixirs. The wretches are in league with the devil."

"Assuredly," replied Don Fernando, gravely, "you must be right. No woman in her senses would condescend to look at those insignificant triflers, while a single caballero of the true old type is to be found on Spanish soil;" and he drew himself still more stiffly up.

"The Holy Virgin defend me from their snares!" fervently ejaculated a thin wrinkled old woman, who until then might easily have been mistaken for a mummy, casting her eye up to heaven, and crossing herself with the utmost devotion.

A suppressed laugh spread its contagious influence all round the table.

"Doña Estefania, have no fear; you possess an infallible preservative," exclaimed the cappellan.

"And what may that be?" responded the antiquated fair, somewhat sharply.

"Your piety and virtue, señora," rejoined the merry cappellano, with a roguish smile, which was not lost on the rest of the company, though it evidently escaped the obtuser perceptions of Doña Estefania; for drawing her mantilla gracefully around her, and composing her parched visage into a look of modesty, she answered in a softened tone, while she waved her abanico timidly before her face, "Ah, Padre Anselmo! you are too partial; you flatter me!"

This was too much for the risible faculties of the audience; even the grim Don Fernando's imperturbable mustache relaxed into a smile; while to avert the burst of laughter which seemed on the point of exploding on all sides, Doña Inez interrupted —

"But, señora, I should hope there is much falsehood and exaggeration in the reports you allude to. I trust there are few, if any, Spanish maidens capable of so forgetting what is due to themselves and to their country."