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Page 58
"The transient illusion is over,--the pageant melts from the
fancy,--monarch, priest, and warrior return into oblivion with the
poor Moslems over whom they exulted. The hall of their triumph is
waste and desolate. The bat flits about its twilight vault, and the
owl hoots from the neighboring tower of Comares."
It is a Moslem tradition that the court and army of Boabdil, the
Unfortunate, the last Moorish King of Granada, are shut up in the
mountain by a powerful enchantment, and that it is written in the book
of fate that when the enchantment is broken, Boabdil will descend from
the mountain at the head of his army, resume his throne in the Alhambra,
and gathering together the enchanted warriors from all parts of Spain,
reconquer the Peninsula. Nothing in this volume is more amusing and at
the same time more poetic and romantic than the story of "Governor Manco
and the Soldier," in which this legend is used to cover the exploit of a
dare-devil contrabandista. But it is too long to quote. I take,
therefore, another story, which has something of the same elements, that
of a merry, mendicant student of Salamanca, Don Vicente by name, who
wandered from village to village, and picked up a living by playing the
guitar for the peasants, among whom, he was sure of a hearty welcome.
In the course of his wandering he had found a seal-ring, having for its
device the cabalistic sign, invented by King Solomon the Wise, and of
mighty power in all cases of enchantment.
"At length he arrived at the great object of his musical
vagabondizing, the far-famed city of Granada, and hailed with
wonder and delight its Moorish towers, its lovely vega, and its
snowy mountains glistening through a summer atmosphere. It is
needless to say with what eager curiosity he entered its gates and
wandered through its streets, and gazed upon its Oriental
monuments. Every female face peering through a window or beaming
from a balcony was to him a Zorayda or a Zelinda, nor could he meet
a stately dame on the Alameda but he was ready to fancy her a
Moorish princess, and to spread his student's robe beneath her
feet.
"His musical talent, his happy humor, his youth and his good looks,
won him a universal welcome in spite of his ragged robes, and for
several days he led a gay life in the old Moorish capital and its
environs. One of his occasional haunts was the fountain of
Avellanos, in the valley of Darro. It is one of the popular resorts
of Granada, and has been so since the days of the Moors; and here
the student had an opportunity of pursuing his studies of female
beauty; a branch of study to which he was a little prone.
"Here he would take his seat with his guitar, improvise
love-ditties to admiring groups of majos and majas, or prompt with
his music the ever-ready dance. He was thus engaged one evening
when he beheld a padre of the church advancing, at whose approach
every one touched the hat. He was evidently a man of consequence;
he certainly was a mirror of good if not of holy living; robust and
rosy-faced, and breathing at every pore with the warmth of the
weather and the exercise of the walk. As he passed along he would
every now and then draw a maravedi out of his pocket and bestow it
on a beggar, with an air of signal beneficence. 'Ah, the blessed
father!' would be the cry; 'long life to him, and may he soon be a
bishop!'
"To aid his steps in ascending the hill he leaned gently now and
then on the arm of a handmaid, evidently the pet-lamb of this
kindest of pastors. Ah, such a damsel! Andalus from head to foot;
from the rose in her hair, to the fairy shoe and lacework stocking;
Andalus in every movement; in every undulation of the body:--ripe,
melting Andalus! But then so modest!--so shy!--ever, with downcast
eyes, listening to the words of the padre; or, if by chance she let
flash a side glance, it was suddenly checked and her eyes once more
cast to the ground.
"The good padre looked benignantly on the company about the
fountain, and took his seat with some emphasis on a stone bench,
while the handmaid hastened to bring him a glass of sparkling
water. He sipped it deliberately and with a relish, tempering it
with one of those spongy pieces of frosted eggs and sugar so dear
to Spanish epicures, and on returning the glass to the hand of the
damsel pinched her cheek with infinite loving-kindness.
"'Ah, the good pastor!' whispered the student to himself; 'what a
happiness would it be to be gathered into his fold with such a
pet-lamb for a companion!'
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