The World's Greatest Books - Volume 6 Part 3

"Very well," said the pretended cousin. "I will just introduce my friend, Don Luis, to you. Tell Aurora we will call to-morrow morning."

Don Luis was much interested in the lovely girl whom he had not been able to see. He talked about her to his companion late into the night.

The next day, as they were about to set out to visit her, I rushed in, as arranged, with a note for my mistress.

"What a nuisance!" she said. "Here is some urgent business I must at once attend to. Don Luis, just run round and tell my cousin that I cannot come until this afternoon!"

Don Luis retired to put some final touches to his dress, and my mistress hurried off with me to her mansion, and there, with the help of her maid, she quickly got into her proper clothes. She received Don Luis very kindly, and they talked together for quite two hours. Don Luis then went away, and Aurora slipped into her cavalier's costume and met him at the inn.

"My dear Felix," said Don Luis, "your cousin is an adorable lady. I'm madly in love with her. If I can only win her, I'll marry and settle down on my estates."

Aurora gazed at him very tenderly, and then, with a gay laugh, she shook off her wig and let her curls fall about her shoulders.

Don Felix knelt at her feet and kissed her hands, crying, "Oh, my beautiful Aurora! Do you really care for me? How happy we shall be together!"

The two lovers resolved to return at once to Madrid, and make preparations for the wedding. At the end of a fortnight my mistress was married, and I again set out on my travels with a well-lined purse.

_III.--Old Acquaintances_

I had always had a particular desire to see the famous town of Toledo. I arrived there in three days, and lodged at a good inn, where, by reason of my fine dress, I pa.s.sed for a gentleman of importance. But I soon discovered that Toledo was one of those places in which it is easier to spend money than to gain it.

So I set out for Aragon. On the road I fell in with a young cavalier going in the same direction. He was a man of a frank and pleasant disposition, and we soon got on a friendly footing. His name, I learned, was Don Alfonso; he was, like me, seeking for means of livelihood.

It came on to rain very heavily as we were skirting the base of a mountain, and, in looking about for some place of shelter, we found a cave in which an aged, white-haired hermit was living. At first he was not pleased to see us, but something about me seemed to strike him favourably, and he then gave us a kind welcome. We tied our horses to a tree, and prepared to stay the night. The hermit began to talk to us in a very pious and edifying way, when another aged anchorite ran into the cave, and said, "It is all over; we're discovered. The police are after us!"

The first hermit tore off his white beard and his hair, and took off his long robe, showing a doublet beneath; and his companion followed his example. In a few moments they were changed into a couple of young men whose faces I recognised.

"Raphael! Lamela! What mischief are you working now? And where are my thousand ducats, you rascals?"

"Ah, Gil Blas, I knew you at once!" said Raphael blandly. "One comes on old acquaintances when one least expects them. I know we treated you badly. But the money's gone, and can't be recovered. Come with us, and we will soon make up to you all that you have lost."

It was certainly unwise to remain in a cave which the police were about to visit, and, as the rain had ceased and the night had fallen, we all set out in the darkness to find some better shelter. We took the road to Requena, and came to a forest, where we saw a light s.h.i.+ning in the distance. Don Alfonso crept up to the spot, and saw four men sitting round a fire, eating and quarrelling. It was easy to see what they were quarrelling about. An old gentleman and a lovely young girl were bound to a tree close by, and by the tree stood a fine carriage.

"They are brigands," said Alfonso, when he returned, "who have captured a n.o.bleman and his daughter, I think. Let us attack them. In order, no doubt, to prevent their quarrelling turning into a deadly affray, they have piled all their arms in a heap some yards away from the fire. So they cannot make much of a fight."

And they did not. We quietly surrounded them, and shot them down before they were able to move. Don Alfonso and I then set free the captives, while Raphael and Lamela rifled the pockets of the dead robbers.

"I am the Count of Polan, and this is my daughter Seraphina," said the old gentleman. "If you will help me to get my carriage ready, I will drive back to an inn which we pa.s.sed before entering the forest."

When we came to the inn, the count begged us all to stay with him.

Raphael and Lamela, however, were afraid that the police would track them out; Don Alfonso, who had been talking very earnestly to Seraphina, was, for some strange reason, also unwilling to remain; so I fell in with their views.

"Why didn't you stay?" I said to Don Alfonso.

"I was afraid the count would recognise me, as Seraphina has done," he said. "I killed his son in a duel, just when I was trying to win Seraphina's love. Heaven grant that the service I have now rendered will make him inclined to forgive me."

The day was breaking when we reached the mountains around Requena. There we hid till nightfall, and then we made our way in the darkness to the town of Xeloa. We found a quiet, shady retreat beside a woodland stream, and there we stayed, while Lamela went into the town to buy provisions.

He did not return until evening. He brought back some extraordinary things.

He opened a great bundle containing a long black mantle and robe, another costume, a roll of parchment, a quill, and a great seal in green wax.

"Do you remember the trick you played on Camilla?" he said to me. "I have a better scheme than that. Listen. As I was buying some provisions at a cook-shop, a man entered in a great rage and began abusing a certain Samuel Simon, a converted Jew and a cruel usurer. He had ruined many merchants at Xeloa, and all the towns-people would like to see him ruined in turn. Then, my dear Gil Blas, I remembered your clever trick, and brought these clothes so that we might visit this Jew dressed up as the officers of the Inquisition."

After we had made a good meal, Lamela put on the robe and mantle of the Inquisitor, Raphael the costume of the registrar, and I took the part of a sergeant of the police. We walked very solemnly to the house of the usurer; Simon opened the door himself, and started back in affright.

"Master Simon," said Lamela, in a grave imperative tone of voice, "I command you, on behalf of the Holy Inquisition, to deliver to these officers the key of your cabinet. I must have your private papers closely examined. Serious charges of heresy have been brought against you."

The usurer grew pale with fear. Far from doubting any deceit on our part, he imagined that some of his enemies had informed the Holy Office against him. He obeyed without the least resistance, and opened his cabinet.

"I am glad to see," said Lamela, "that you do not rebel against the orders of the Holy Inquisition. Retire now to another room, and let me carry out the examination without interference."

Simon withdrew into a farther room, and Lamela and Raphael quickly searched in the cabinet for the strongbox. It was unlocked, being so full of money that it could not be closed. We filled all our pockets; then our hose; and then stuffed the coins in any place in our clothes that would hold them. After this, we closed the cabinet, and our pretended Inquisitor sealed it down with a great seal of green wax, and said very solemnly to the usurer, "Master Simon, I have sealed your cabinet with the seal of the Holy Office. Let me find it untouched when I return to-morrow morning to inform you of the decision arrived at in your case."

The next morning we were a good many leagues from Xeloa. At breakfast, we counted over the money which we had taken from Simon. It came to three thousand ducats, of which we each took a fourth part. Raphael and Lamela then desired to carry out a similar plot against someone in the next town; but Don Alfonso and I would not agree to take any part in the affair, and set out for Toledo. There, Don Alfonso was reconciled to the Count of Polan, and soon afterwards he and Seraphina were happily married.

I retired to Lirias, a pleasant estate that Don Alfonso gave me, and there I married happily, and grew old among my children. In the reign of Philip IV., I went to the court, and served under the great minister, Olivarez. But I have now returned to Lirias, and I do not intend to go to Madrid again.

CHARLES LEVER

Charles O'Malley

The author of "Charles O'Malley," perhaps the most typical of Irish novelists, was of English descent on his father's side.

But Charles James Lever himself was Irish by birth, being born at Dublin on August 31, 1806--Irish in sentiment and distinctly Irish in temperament. In geniality and extravagance he bore much resemblance to the gay, riotous spirits he has immortalised in his books. "Of all the men I have ever encountered," says Trollope, "he was the surest fund of drollery." Lever was intended for medicine; but financial difficulties forced him to return to literature. His first story was "Harry Lorrequer," published in 1837. It was followed in 1840 by "Charles O'Malley, the Irish Dragoon,"

which established his reputation as one of the first humorists of his day. The story is the most popular of all Lever's works, and in many respects the most characteristic. The narrative is told with great vigour, and the delineation of character is at once subtle and life-like. Lever died on June 1, 1872.

_I.--O'Malley of O'Malley Castle_

It was in O'Malley Castle, a very ruinous pile of incongruous masonry that stood in a wild and dreary part of Galway, that I pa.s.sed my infancy and youth. When a mere child I was left an orphan to the care of my worthy uncle. My father, whose extravagance had well sustained the family reputation, had squandered a large and handsome property in contesting elections for his native county, and in keeping up that system of unlimited hospitality for which Ireland in general, and Galway more especially, was renowned. The result was, as might be expected, ruin and beggary. When he died the only legacy he left to his brother was a boy of four years of age, entreating him, with his last breath, "Be anything you like to him, G.o.dfrey, but a father--or, at least, such a one as I have proved."

G.o.dfrey O'Malley sometime previous had lost his wife, and when this new trust was committed to him he resolved never to re-marry, but to rear me as his own child.

From my earliest years his whole anxiety was to fit me for the part of a country gentleman, as he regarded that character--_viz._, I rode boldly with the fox-hounds; I was about the best shot within twenty miles; I could swim the Shannon at Holy Island; I drove four-in-hand better than the coachman himself; and from finding a hare to hooking a salmon my equal could not be found from Killaloe to Banagher. These were the staple of my endowments; besides which, the parish priest had taught me a little Latin, a little French, and a little geometry.

When I add to this portraiture of my accomplishments that I was nearly six feet high, with more than a common share of activity and strength for my years, and no inconsiderable portion of good looks, I have finished my sketch, and stand before my reader.

We were in the thick of canva.s.sing the county for the parliamentary seat in my uncle's interest. O'Malley Castle was the centre of operations; while I, a mere stripling, and usually treated as a boy, was entrusted with an important mission, and sent off to canva.s.s a distant relation, Mr. Matthew Blake, who might possibly be approachable by a younger branch of the family, with whom he had never any collision.

I arrived at his house while the company were breakfasting. After the usual shaking of hands and hearty greetings were over, I was introduced to Sir George Dashwood, a tall and singularly handsome man of about fifty, and his daughter, Lucy Dashwood.