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Page 59
The damsel was cheered by these words, and hoped that she had awakened
some tenderness in his bosom; but it was no such thing, says the grave
old chronicler, for his heart was devoted to higher and more sacred
matters; yet certain it is, that he always guarded well that ring.
When they parted, Pelayo remained with his huntsmen on a cliff, watching
that no evil befell them, until they were far beyond the skirts of the
mountain; and the damsel often turned to look at him, until she could no
longer discern him, for the distance and the tears that dimmed her eyes.
And for that he had accepted her ring, says the ancient chronicler, she
considered herself wedded to him in her heart, and would never marry;
nor could she be brought to look with eyes of affection upon any other
man; but for the true love which she bore Pelayo, she lived and died a
virgin. And she composed a book which treated of love and chivalry,
and the temptations of this mortal life; and one part discoursed of
celestial matters, and it was called "The Contemplations of Love;"
because at the time she wrote it, she thought of Pelayo, and of his
having accepted her jewel and called her by the gentle appellation of
"Amiga." And often thinking of him in tender sadness, and of her never
having beheld him more, she would take the book and would read it as
if in his stead; and while she repeated the words of love which it
contained, she would endeavor to fancy them uttered by Pelayo, and that
he stood before her.
* * * * *
THE KNIGHT OF MALTA.
TO THE EDITOR OF THE KNICKERBOCKER
SIR: In the course of a tour which I made in Sicily, in the days of my
juvenility, I passed some little time at the ancient city of Catania,
at the foot of Mount �tna. Here I became acquainted with the Chevalier
L----, an old Knight of Malta. It was not many years after the time that
Napoleon had dislodged the knights from their island, and he still wore
the insignia of his order. He was not, however, one of those reliques of
that once chivalrous body, who had been described was "a few worn-out
old men, creeping about certain parts of Europe, with the Maltese cross
on their breasts;" on the contrary, though advanced in life, his form
was still light and vigorous; he had a pale, thin, intellectual visage,
with a high forehead, and a bright, visionary eye. He seemed to take a
fancy to me, as I certainly did to him, and we soon became intimate,
I visited him occasionally, at his apartments, in the wing of an old
palace, looking toward Mount �tna. He was an antiquary, a virtuoso, and
a connoisseur. His rooms were decorated with mutilated statues, dug up
from Grecian and Roman ruins; old vases, lachrymals, and sepulchral
lamps. He had astronomical and chemical instruments, and black-letter
books, in various languages. I found that he had dipped a little in
chimerical studies and had a hankering after astrology and alchymy. He
affected to believe in dreams and visions, and delighted in the fanciful
Rosicrucian doctrines. I cannot persuade myself, however, that he really
believed in all these: I rather think he loved to let his imagination
carry him away into the boundless fairy land which they unfolded.
In company with the chevalier, I took several excursions on horseback
about the environs of Catania, and the picturesque skirts of Mount Etna.
One of these led through a village, which had sprung up on the very
tract of an ancient eruption, the houses being built of lava. At one
time we passed, for some distance, along a narrow lane, between two high
dead convent walls. It was a cut-throat-looking place, in a country
where assassinations are frequent; and just about midway through it,
we observed blood upon the pavement and the walls, as if a murder had
actually been committed there.
The chevalier spurred on his horse, until he had extricated himself
completely from this suspicious neighborhood. He then observed, that it
reminded him of a similar blind alley in Malta, infamous on account of
the many assassinations that had taken place there; concerning one
of which, he related a long and tragical story, that lasted until
we reached Catania. It involved various circumstances of a wild and
supernatural character, but which he assured me were handed down in
tradition, and generally credited by the old inhabitants of Malta.
As I like to pick up strange stories, and as I was particularly struck
with several parts of this, I made a minute of it, on my return to my
lodgings. The memorandum was lost, with several others of my travelling
papers, and the story had faded from my mind, when recently, in perusing
a French memoir, I came suddenly upon it, dressed up, it is true, in a
very different manner, but agreeing in the leading facts, and given upon
the word of that famous adventurer, the Count Cagliostro.
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