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Page 31
In the confusion of his mind, he instinctively repaired to the mansion
of Alvarez, but it was barred against him. To break the delusion under
which the youth apparently labored, and to convince him that the
Serafina about whom he raved was really dead, he was conducted to her
tomb. There she lay, a stately matron, cut out in alabaster; and there
lay her husband beside her; a portly cavalier, in armor; and there
knelt, on each side, the effigies of a numerous progeny, proving that
she had been a fruitful vine. Even the very monument gave proof of the
lapse of time, for the hands of her husband, which were folded as if in
prayer, had lost their fingers, and the face of the once lovely Serafina
was noseless.
Don Fernando felt a transient glow of indignation at beholding this
monumental proof of the inconstancy of his mistress; but who could
expect a mistress to remain constant during a whole century of absence?
And what right had he to rail about constancy, after what had passed
between him and the Alcayde's daughter? The unfortunate cavalier
performed one pious act of tender devotion; he had the alabaster nose of
Serafina restored by a skilful statuary, and then tore himself from the
tomb.
He could now no longer doubt the fact that, somehow or other, he had
skipped over a whole century, during the night he had spent at the
Island of the Seven Cities; and he was now as complete a stranger in his
native city, as if he had never been there. A thousand times did he
wish himself back to that wonderful island, with its antiquated banquet
halls, where he had been so courteously received; and now that the once
young and beautiful Serafina was nothing but a great-grandmother in
marble, with generations of descendants, a thousand times would he
recall the melting black eyes of the Alcayde's daughter, who doubtless,
like himself, was still flourishing in fresh juvenility, and breathe a
secret wish that he were seated by her side.
He would at once have set on foot another expedition, at his own
expense, to cruise in search of the sainted island, but his means were
exhausted. He endeavored to rouse others to the enterprise, setting
forth the certainty of profitable results, of which his own experience
furnished such unquestionable proof. Alas! no one would give faith to
his tale; but looked upon it as the feverish dream of a shipwrecked
man. He persisted in his efforts; holding forth in all places and
all companies, until he became an object of jest and jeer to the
light-minded, who mistook his earnest enthusiasm for a proof of
insanity; and the very children in the streets bantered him with the
title of "The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."
Finding all his efforts in vain, in his native city of Lisbon, he took
shipping for the Canaries, as being nearer the latitude of his former
cruise, and inhabited by people given to nautical adventure. Here he
found ready listeners to his story; for the old pilots and mariners of
those parts were notorious island-hunters and devout believers in all
the wonders of the seas. Indeed, one and all treated his adventure as a
common occurrence, and turning to each other, with a sagacious nod of
the head, observed, "He has been at the Island of St. Brandan."
They then went on to inform him of that great marvel and enigma of
the ocean; of its repeated appearance to the inhabitants of their
islands; and of the many but ineffectual expeditions that had been made
in search of it. They took him to a promontory of the island of Palma,
from whence the shadowy St. Brandan had oftenest been descried, and they
pointed out the very tract in the west where its mountains had been
seen.
Don Fernando listened with rapt attention. He had no longer a doubt that
this mysterious and fugacious island must be the same with that of
the Seven Cities; and that there must be some supernatural influence
connected with it, that had operated upon himself, and made the events
of a night occupy the space of a century.
He endeavored, but in vain, to rouse the islanders to another attempt at
discovery; they had given up the phantom island as indeed inaccessible.
Fernando, however, was not to be discouraged. The idea wore itself
deeper and deeper in his mind, until it became the engrossing subject of
his thoughts and object of his being. Every morning he would repair to
the promontory of Palma, and sit there throughout the live-long day, in
hopes of seeing the fairy mountains of St. Brandan peering above the
horizon; every evening he returned to his home, a disappointed man, but
ready to resume his post on the following morning.
His assiduity was all in vain. He grew gray in his ineffectual attempt;
and was at length found dead at his post. His grave is still shown in
the island of Palma, and a cross is erected on the spot where he used
to sit and look out upon the sea, in hopes of the reappearance of the
enchanted island.
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