|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 56
"After a time the throng again poured forth and dispersed various
ways, to enjoy the light of the sun and mingle with the stirring
scenes of life; but the victim, with her bridal chaplet, was no
longer there. The door of the convent closed that severed her from
the world forever. I saw the father and the lover issue forth; they
were in earnest conversation. The latter was vehement in his
gesticulations; I expected some violent termination to my drama;
but an angle of a building interfered and closed the scene. My eye
afterwards was frequently turned to that convent with painful
interest. I remarked late at night a solitary light twinkling from
a remote lattice of one of its towers. 'There,' said I, 'the
unhappy nun sits weeping in her cell, while perhaps her lover paces
the street below in unavailing anguish.'
"--The officious Mateo interrupted my meditations and destroyed in
an instant the cobweb tissue of my fancy. With his usual zeal he
had gathered facts concerning the scene, which put my fictions all
to flight. The heroine of my romance was neither young nor
handsome; she had no lover; she had entered the convent of her own
free will, as a respectable asylum, and was one of the most
cheerful residents within its walls.
"It was some little while before I could forgive the wrong done me
by the nun in being thus happy in her cell, in contradiction to all
the rules of romance; I diverted my spleen, however, by watching,
for a day or two, the pretty coquetries of a dark-eyed brunette,
who, from the covert of a balcony shrouded with flowering shrubs
and a silken awning, was carrying on a mysterious correspondence
with a handsome, dark, well-whiskered cavalier, who lurked
frequently in the street beneath her window. Sometimes I saw him at
an early hour, stealing forth wrapped to the eyes in a mantle.
Sometimes he loitered at a corner, in various disguises, apparently
waiting for a private signal to slip into the house. Then there was
the tinkling of a guitar at night, and a lantern shifted from place
to place in the balcony. I imagined another intrigue like that of
Almaviva, but was again disconcerted in all my suppositions. The
supposed lover turned out to be the husband of the lady, and a
noted contrabandista; and all his mysterious signs and movements
had doubtless some smuggling scheme in view.
"--I occasionally amused myself with noting from this balcony the
gradual changes of the scenes below, according to the different
stages of the day.
"Scarce has the gray dawn streaked the sky, and the earliest cock
crowed from the cottages of the hill-side, when the suburbs give
sign of reviving animation; for the fresh hours of dawning are
precious in the summer season in a sultry climate. All are anxious
to get the start of the sun, in the business of the day. The
muleteer drives forth his loaded train for the journey; the
traveler slings his carbine behind his saddle, and mounts his steed
at the gate of the hostel; the brown peasant from the country urges
forward his loitering beasts, laden with panniers of sunny fruit
and fresh dewy vegetables, for already the thrifty housewives are
hastening to the market.
"The sun is up and sparkles along the valley, tipping the
transparent foliage of the groves. The matin bells resound
melodiously through the pure bright air, announcing the hour of
devotion. The muleteer halts his burdened animals before the
chapel, thrusts his staff through his belt behind, and enters with
hat in hand, smoothing his coal-black hair, to hear a mass, and to
put up a prayer for a prosperous wayfaring across the sierra. And
now steals forth on fairy foot the gentle Se�ora, in trim basqui�a,
with restless fan in hand, and dark eye flashing from beneath the
gracefully folded mantilla; she seeks some well-frequented church
to offer up her morning orisons; but the nicely adjusted dress, the
dainty shoe and cobweb stocking, the raven tresses exquisitely
braided, the fresh-plucked rose, gleaming among them like a gem,
show that earth divides with Heaven the empire of her thoughts.
Keep an eye upon her, careful mother, or virgin aunt, or vigilant
duenna, whichever you may be, that walk behind!
"As the morning advances, the din of labor augments on every side;
the streets are thronged with man, and steed, and beast of burden,
and there is a hum and murmur, like the surges of the ocean. As the
sun ascends to his meridian, the hum and bustle gradually decline;
at the height of noon there is a pause. The panting city sinks into
lassitude, and for several hours there is a general repose. The
windows are closed, the curtains drawn, the inhabitants retired
into the coolest recesses of their mansions; the full-fed monk
snores in his dormitory; the brawny porter lies stretched on the
pavement beside his burden; the peasant and the laborer sleep
beneath the trees of the Alameda, lulled by the sultry chirping of
the locust. The streets are deserted, except by the water-carrier,
who refreshes the ear by proclaiming the merits of his sparkling
beverage, 'colder than the mountain snow (_mas fria que la
nieve_).'
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|