Picturesque country—Approaching Lerida—Rambling inn—Remarkable duenna—Toothless and voiceless—Smiles upon H. C.—Nearly expires—Civilised chef—A procession—Lerida Dragon—City of the dead—Night study—Charging dead walls—A night encounter—Armed demon—Wise people—Watchman proves an old friend—No promotion—Locked out—Rousing the echoes—Night porter appears on the scene—Also El Sereno—Apologetic and repentant—The charming Rose—Porter congratulates himself—Cloudless morning—H. C. confronted by the Dragon—In the hands of the Philistines—A Lerida fine art—Boot-cleaner in Ordinary—Remarkable character—H. C. hilarious—Steals a march.
Picturesque country—Approaching Lerida—Rambling inn—Remarkable duenna—Toothless and voiceless—Smiles upon H. C.—Nearly expires—Civilised chef—A procession—Lerida Dragon—City of the dead—Night study—Charging dead walls—A night encounter—Armed demon—Wise people—Watchman proves an old friend—No promotion—Locked out—Rousing the echoes—Night porter appears on the scene—Also El Sereno—Apologetic and repentant—The charming Rose—Porter congratulates himself—Cloudless morning—H. C. confronted by the Dragon—In the hands of the Philistines—A Lerida fine art—Boot-cleaner in Ordinary—Remarkable character—H. C. hilarious—Steals a march.
NOsooner had we left Manresa than the rain ceased, and though the sky remained grey, the clouds lifted.
As far as Cervera the country we passed through was evidently picturesque, and only wanted the contrast of sun and shade to make it charming. Conspicuous amidst the landscape for many and many a long mile was the wonderful mountain of Montserrat with its peaks and pinnacles, about which the white mists still rolled and wrapped themselves. The scenery was diversified by many a wide ravine, where tangled bushes grew over the hard rock; many a fertile vale rich in fruit trees, pines, olives, oak and cork trees, intermixed their various shades of green. Beyond Cervera, the country was cold and barren and abounded in rock-strewn plains, to which the grey skies gave a still more sad and sombre tone. We approached Lerida when the shades of night were falling, and could just discern its grand outlines rising out of the great plain. These seemed to yield in interest only to Manresa, whilst the town itself proved far more attractive.
We found the place sufficiently civilised to possess an omnibus, which transported us bag and baggage to the hotel. The long straight thoroughfare in which we found ourselveslooked in the darkening night like the fag end of a village, unfinished and unpaved; almost like the street of some far away colonial settlement. It was wide and lined with trees, and beyond the trees on one side, a row of large houses; amongst them our inn; a rambling, cheerless sort of building, too new to be peopled with ghosts or distinguished by artistic outlines. Anything more opposite to the ghostly element could not be imagined. Still, in spite of frightful drawbacks it was some degrees better than Manresa.
We were conducted by a curious but amiable duenna to a large lofty sitting room with a bedroom opening on each side: evidently the state apartments. The place looked empty and neglected, and our candles hardly lighted the obscurity. The electric bells were all broken, and we soon found that if we rang till doomsday no one appeared.
Our duenna was toothless and apparently voiceless, for when she opened her capacious mouth and began to talk, no sound came forth. The mouth worked up and down in absolute silence, and the effect was creepy and peculiar. It almost felt as though a mummy had been galvanised into life minus the voice. Her costume had nothing redeeming about it. An impromptu turban placed over a shock head of hair, petticoats of the shortest, revealing feet and ankles that would have supported a substantial Dutch vrouw. We afterwards found she was the laundress of the establishment, and this was the costume in which she presided at the wash-tub. She smiled sweetly upon H. C. and her face looked like a huge, amiable cavern. With an imagination full of the lovely face of that young novice in Manresa, he shuddered, dropped into the furthest chair, and begged us to complete the arrangements without him.
There was nothing to arrange, and the Dragon soon withdrew with her cavernous smiles and voiceless words. Then from a distant corner we heard an anxious murmur: "What about dinner?" H. C.. had not expired; the Dragon had evidently not frightened away all earthly desires.
Fortunately dinner was forthcoming, though when we had finally settled down and removed the stains of travel, and H. C. had recovered his nerves, the night was growing apace. We plunged into wide passages, and after half a dozen wrongturnings at length found ourselves in the dining-room, large, lofty and well lighted. The chef sent up a civilised bill of fare, and the landlord himself waited upon us; whilst under the influence of fortifying dishes and refined wines the charms of the Manresa novice faded into the background, and H. C. felt almost equal to challenging the Lerida Dragon to single combat as a libel upon her sex. We were conducted back to our rooms by quite a procession, including the thin landlord and imposing landlady, headed by the Dragon bearing a flambeau.
Once on our balcony, we found the night had changed for the better. Clouds had disappeared, stars shone, the trees before us were rustling gently in the wind, calmness and repose had fallen upon the world. It was past ten o'clock; the place seemed still and deserted as a city of the dead; not a sound broke the silence as we went forth for a night-study of Lerida.
It was intensely dark. Here and there an oil lamp glimmered, making darkness visible. Presently we found ourselves on the bridge, looking down upon the waters of the river that runs so closely to the town as to reflect its outlines. To-night it was too dark to reflect anything, excepting here and there a faint track of light thrown by a distant star. The surface was not disturbed by any sort of craft.
To the right rose the houses of the town, and above them faint and shadowy against the night sky, the outlines of the wonderful old cathedral, perched on its rock 300 feet above the town itself.
We tried to reach it, climbing and stumbling up the narrow ill-paved thoroughfares, that seemed to wind and twist about like the contortions of a snake. The darkness might be felt. There was not a solitary light to guide our feet, and every now and then we found ourselves charging a dead wall as Don Quixote charged the windmills.
Once H. C. plunged against the door of a low cottage, and before he could turn round there rushed out a demon in light attire with a torrent of hard words and a blunderbuss-sort of weapon. Fortunately for H. C. a dog also rushed out at the moment between the man's legs, bringing him to the ground, where he and his blunderbuss lay motionless. All thedogs in the neighbourhood set up a howl and a bark, and the place was fast turning to pandemonium.
We were evidently on dangerous ground, where strangers were not expected and made welcome; doors opened above us and voices inquired who passed that way so late. Our lives were in jeopardy amongst these wild Catalonians, howbeit they have not the sword-and-dagger temperament of the more impulsive Spaniards. We had fallen amongst thieves. Discretion being the better part of valour, we glided back like phantoms, passing safely through the ranks of the enemy, and found ourselves on the great square which is the market-place, and where we breathed freely.
No one followed in pursuit. It seemed as though, their own territories abandoned, they cared nothing what became of intruders. Presently the dogs ceased to bark, silence once more fell upon the night. We hoped our friend of the blunderbuss had not been seriously wounded, but under the circumstances it was impossible to make anxious inquiries.
It was difficult to get even a faint impression of the town. Here and there we caught a vision of promising arcades, and apparently ancient outlines of houses and gabled roofs, but everything was in tenebrous gloom. Hardly a single window reflected the faintest ray; the streets were deserted. Only from a solitary café came forth, as we passed, a small band of some half dozen men, who quietly went up a side street and disappeared. It was only a little past eleven, but the people of Lerida are wise and know nothing of midnight oil, wasting energies, and burning the candle at both ends.
"We are doing no good," said H. C. whose head had been rather damaged by coming in contact with doors and walls in the narrow lane. "I think it would be as well to follow the example of these people and retire, reserving our energies for to-morrow. In this darkness we might charge another cottage door without a friendly dog to deliver us from a murderous blunderbuss."
So we turned back in the long narrow street of which Lerida seemed chiefly composed, and presently found ourselves in the broad hotel avenue.
In the very centre of it was an old watchman with his staffand lantern. He threw his light upon us as we approached, then gave a "Buenas noches" and turned down the spear of his staff in friendly token.
We thought we recognised both face and voice. Where had we met?
"You are late, gentlemen. It grows towards midnight. In a few minutes I must call the hour and the weather. The people of Lerida are even earlier than those of Burgos, where I was watchman until six months ago."
Then the mystery was solved. This was the very old watchman who had piloted us to the hotel the night we had lost ourselves in that most uncomfortable of Spanish towns, with the worst of Spanish inns.
"Have you forgotten us?" we asked. "Do you not remember taking two strangers through the streets of Burgos more than a year ago, and seeing them safely to their door?"
The watchman put down his lantern deliberately and struck the ground with his spear. "Is it possible, señor! Santa Maria! A plague upon memory and eyesight! But the night is dark, and my lantern burns dim. Indeed I remember it well. Can I ever forget your largesse on that occasion? I have often wondered how you fared in Spain and whither you wandered. Often wished I might meet you again."
"But what brings you here? Surely Burgos is more important than Lerida, and you have progressed backwards. This hardly looks like promotion."
"Oh, señor, there is no promotion for us poor watchmen. One town is much as another. I earn as much in Lerida as I did in Burgos, and the saints know either pays little enough."
"Were you, then, sent here for any special reason?"
"A reason of my own, señor. My wife's old parents live here and she wanted to be near them; so I petitioned to come here and it was granted. On the whole I am better off than in Burgos."
After some further conversations, and with a substantial remembrance for auld lang syne, we left the old watchman and turned for our hotel.
We soon felt almost as lost as in that past time at Burgos. The houses were all exactly alike. Every light was out, everydoor closed. There was no especial lamp to indicate which was the inn, and we could discover neither sign nor name. At last in the darkness we managed to trace on a lamp, in small characters, the wordsFonda de España. The great door beneath was shut, like every other door; but there was a ponderous knocker, to which we directed our energies.
It was all in vain, for no one responded. Knock after knock brought forth no result. The echoes we roused in the avenue were enough to wake the dead. Our watchman had gone to the far end, and by the gleam of his lamp we saw him turn and hasten. The habitable part of the inn was upstairs, a league of passages separated it from the outer door. If everyone was in bed and asleep, we might knock away until daybreak.
We were growing concerned, when just as our old friend the watchman arrived upon the scene, up rushed another functionary in breathless agitation: the night porter of the hotel, and he carried great keys in his hand.
"A thousand pardons, gentlemen," he began, as far as want of breath would allow him. "I did not know any one was out and went for a short walk just to breathe the midnight air and contemplate the stars. I heard you knocking when quite a mile away. You have indeed the strength of Hercules. And there is also something peculiar in this knocker. You may hear it all over the town, but cannot hear it in the hotel unless you are in the porter's lodge. It has been said the house is bewitched, and I think it; for once, when the Bishop breakfasted here, as soon as he entered the doors a loud report was heard and the place trembled, just as if some evil spirit were frightened and had departed in a flash of lightning. If you only knew how I ran when I heard the knocker, you would pity me."
"I guessed what was up," said our watchman, "but waited, thinking you would be sure to arrive. Contemplating the stars with you, Juan, means taking an extra glass or two at your favourite bodega. You are too fond of leaving your post, and one of these days your post will leave you."
ARCADES: LERIDAARCADES: LERIDA
This we thought highly probable, but the porter merely shrugged his shoulders, intimating that if he lost one placeanother would turn up. He applied one of the great keys to the lock, and the great door rolled open.
We passed into a dark vaulted passage which rather reminded us of the gloomy entrance to the Hospederia at Montserrat. Upstairs every one had gone to bed, and they had not even left us a light. But for the night porter we might have sat all night upon chairs. When the candles threw out a faint illumination, H. C. looked round shudderingly as though he expected to see the Dragon lurking in some corner.
We had found out that this extraordinary creature rejoiced in the charming name ofRose, and mentioned the name aloud.
"Rose," said the night porter, "that is my wife. She is not a beauty, señor, but she can't scold—she has no voice. When I see other good-looking wives rating their husbands I say to myself, 'Ah ha, my fine fellow! after all beauty is only skin-deep. I wouldn't exchange my peace of mind for all your handsome wives put together.' I married her because she had no voice and also earns good wages. But though she is voiceless by day, she snores by night, and really becomes quite musical. It is a singular contradiction, but nature is freaky."
He marshalled us to our rooms, a candle in each hand, striding along with great dignity and evidently thinking that he was the life and soul of the establishment. Putting the candles on the sitting-room table, he backed towards the door, made a low bow, once more apologised for being absent without leave and keeping us beating a midnight tattoo, and begged as a favour that we would not mention the circumstance to the landlord.
This we readily promised, and as it was utterly impossible to maintain any sort of gravity on the occasion, the night porter, wishing us refreshing slumbers, departed in great peace of mind—probably to resume his devotions at the untimely bodega. We heard his receding footsteps, and the house sank into repose.
The next morning there was not a cloud in the sky. Our study in grey had given place to more positive tones. H. C.'s rainy season had been a pure effort of the imagination. Sebastien was right after all, and in sheer gratitude we sat down and wrote an epistle to his master that would have moved a heart of stone. We represented in glowing coloursthe happiness of the young pair that a word from him could make or mar; enlarged upon the moral question of conferring pleasure where it was possible, and wound up with a rash assertion, almost an undertaking, that Sebastien would prove a tower of strength to the well-being of the hotel. The result has been recorded.
We rose early. With that glorious sun shining, who could waste moments in sleep? Presently we heard a sort of alarmed shout from H. C., and on going into the sitting-room, and asking how he had slept, found him pale, agitated, and confronted by the Dragon.
She looked if anything more terrible than last night. Her cavernous mouth was wide open, but no sound came forth, though her capacious jaws moved up and down and her eyes rolled in a fine frenzy. Her sleeves were tucked up above the elbow, revealing a muscular arm that would not have disgraced a prize-fighter. She was evidently primed for another field day at the wash-tub. When we went in she was smiling sweetly upon H. C.
"What does it all mean?" we asked. "Surely you have not been offering to elope with the Dragon?"
"I simply want my boots," said H. C. unromantically. "I rang away at the bell just as we knocked at the door last night, and with the same result. The placemustbe bewitched. Then I opened the door and clapped my hands, and the Dragon suddenly sprang out upon me from a dark cupboard close by, right into my very arms. I nearly had a fit of convulsions. And now when I ask for my boots all she does is to mouth and shake her head. What's to be done? Is it a plot to keep us here? Have we fallen into the hands of the Philistines?"
Being in a more advanced stage of toilet than H. C., we marched forth in search of the landlord on what we hoped would not prove a bootless errand. He was in his counting-house counting out his money—and arranging his dinners. On making anxious inquiries we discovered that in Lerida boot-cleaning was considered one of the fine arts. There was a Boot-cleaner in Ordinary to the town, who took the inns in turn and was paid according to his work. People had to wait hispleasure. That morning he had not yet arrived; we had risen early.
Fortunately he appeared at the moment: an old, grey-bearded man with a fine presence, who looked almost past boot-cleaning or any other occupation. We found him quite above his humble employment. He was a Frenchman by birth, but had lived in Spain for nearly seventy years—was now verging on ninety, and his old wife, he told us, was eighty-seven, and two years ago had gone blind. He had not forgotten his native language, which he still spoke very purely. In his last days he was supporting himself and his old wife by cleaning boots. It was the custom of the town. The hotels would do anything for you but clean boots. As far as he was concerned he just managed to keep the wolf from the door, and that after all was all they wanted.
He went off to his task, and returning to H. C. we found a change had come over the spirit of his dream. He sat hilarious and comforted before an empty tray of rolls and coffee, our own share as well as his having disappeared, whilst the Dragon had departed to adorn other realms.
In due time the old man arrived with his boots, was duly paid for his work, and we presently found ourselves under the blue skies of Lerida.
Lerida by daylight—Second city in Catalonia—Past history—Days of the Goths—And Moors—Becomes a bishopric—Troublous times—Brave people—Striking cathedral—Splendid outlines—Desecration—The new cathedral—Senseless tyranny—One of the most interesting of towns—Crowded market-place—Picturesque arcades and ancient gateways—Wine-pressers—Good offer refused—Another revelation—Wonderful streets—Amongst the immortals—Our Boot-cleaner in Ordinary again—Thereby hangs a tale—His story—Blind wife—Modest request—Nerissa—Charming room—Little queen in the arm-chair—Faultless picture—Renouncements but no regrets—"All a new world"—Time to pass out of life—Back to the quiet streets—H. C. contemplative—Proposes emigration to Salt Lake City—Lerida glorified by its idyll.
Lerida by daylight—Second city in Catalonia—Past history—Days of the Goths—And Moors—Becomes a bishopric—Troublous times—Brave people—Striking cathedral—Splendid outlines—Desecration—The new cathedral—Senseless tyranny—One of the most interesting of towns—Crowded market-place—Picturesque arcades and ancient gateways—Wine-pressers—Good offer refused—Another revelation—Wonderful streets—Amongst the immortals—Our Boot-cleaner in Ordinary again—Thereby hangs a tale—His story—Blind wife—Modest request—Nerissa—Charming room—Little queen in the arm-chair—Faultless picture—Renouncements but no regrets—"All a new world"—Time to pass out of life—Back to the quiet streets—H. C. contemplative—Proposes emigration to Salt Lake City—Lerida glorified by its idyll.
AGREATERcontrast than Lerida in the morning and Lerida at midnight could not be imagined. Last night had by no means prepared us for the charms of to-day.
Little as one hears of it, it is the second city in Catalonia, with an historical and eventful past that has submitted to constant wars and sieges. In the far-off days it was occupied by the Romans, and the present bridge is built on Roman foundations. It was held by Pompey in the first century B.C. and these were unsettled times for Ilerda, as it was then called. In very early days it became a university town, but so little esteemed that the students of Rome were sent here when rusticated. As the centuries rolled on it grew in favour, though the trail of the rusticated Romans must have remained upon it, for two of its most famous students were Vicenti Ferrer the inquisitor and Calixtus III. the wicked pope.
The Goths had much to do with Lerida, and in 546 it became a Bishopric. It fell under the influence of the Moors, but was destroyed by the French at the end of the eighth century.
For the next 400 years little is heard of Lerida; but in 1150 it was restored by Ramon Berenguer, and quickly became popular and important. In the seventeenth century during the great Catalonian revolt, Lerida chose Louis XIII. for king; upon which Philip IV. came down upon them and defeated La Mothe, causing him to raise the siege. Four years afterwards, in 1644, the French again tried to take it but were again defeated. The Grand Condé opened another siege, and caused a number of violins to play before the town to encourage his soldiers. But this also had the effect of encouraging brave Gregorio Brito, the Portuguese Governor, who sallied forth with his army, silenced the fiddlers and put the French to the rout.
In the War of Succession Lerida was again besieged by the French, who behaved with great treachery and cruelly sacked the town after capitulation. Retaliation came in 1710, when Stanhope routed Philip V. at Almenara. The French fled before the English bayonets, and Philip himself, in these early days of his long reign, nearly lost his life. He would have been spared many troubles.
A little later on, in 1810, during the Peninsular War, it was taken by Suchet, and the inhabitants men, women and children were so cruelly treated that the governor, unable to bear the sight of so much suffering, capitulated. Since then Lerida has enjoyed more or less tranquil days. She would now hardly be thought worth taking.
It was during some of these troublous times, in 1707, that her beautiful cathedral was desecrated, and remains to this day a prominent illustration of the barbarities of war. It towers 300 feet above the town, a magnificent outline against the clear blue sky. The first church existed here as far back as the sixth century. This in time gave place to the present church, of which the first stone was laid by Pedro II. in 1203. It is one of the finest specimens in Europe of the early-pointed style and its desecration was a world's regret. Nevertheless, its style is a little contradictory, for the windows are for the most part round-headed.
Perched on the summit of an almost perpendicular rock, it looks even higher and larger than it really is. Its fine octagonal steeple stands out a bold and conspicuous object overmany a mile of plain and country. As the sun declines, its shadow falls upon the houses of the town sleeping below, and creeps over the surface of the river. Near it is a building now used as a powder magazine, but in the Middle Ages was a palace given up to the rude scenes of splendour of which those days were typical, and before that it had been a Moorish castle and a Christian temple. Its walls have defied the centuries, but nothing is left of its Moorish beauty and refinement.
In 1707 the French turned the great church into a fortress, and it was never restored to its sacred uses. Peace fell upon Lerida, but the fat old canons had learned to shirk the steep climbing of the rocks in all seasons and all weathers. They agitated for a new cathedral within the town, and had their wish. A hideous Corinthian building arose, and the magnificent church upon the hill after five hundred years of faithful service was shorn of its glory.
Yet its outlines are as fine and as striking as ever, and the columns, stonework and tracery that remain, still bear witness to its ancient splendour. It is, however, with the greatest difficulty that admission is obtained, a senseless piece of tyranny. The interior is to the last degree interesting to the lover of ancient architecture, and there are no military or other secrets to be carried away. But say what one will, courtesy is not one of the virtues of the Spanish, and in this matter the Catalonians perhaps take the lead. They are abrupt and uncivil, and unwilling to stir hand or foot to oblige you unless something is to be gained by it.
Sallying forth this morning, we had these magnificent outlines in full view. We have said that the tenebrous darkness of last night had not prepared us for the charms of to-day. Lerida proved one of the most interesting of Spanish towns. This morning it was full of life and movement. The market-place was crowded with buyers and sellers; men and women still wearing a certain amount of picturesque costume. The air seemed full of sound. Fruit and flower-stalls were splendid, and large quantities of each could be bought for a very small sum.
As we had discovered last night, the town consisted of one long street running parallel with the river. It was narrow and straggling, full of lights and shadows. Now and then youcame upon short arcades that were singularly picturesque, whilst every here and there a fine old gateway led to the river-side. These gateways form part of the fortifications of the town, for Lerida is strongly protected.
Making way through this long street, we presently came upon a wine-pressing machine in the very middle of the road, worked by strong, stalwart men; a very southern and picturesque scene. We watched them pile up the grapes, that had already once been pressed, until the machine was full. Then adjusting it by means of long poles, they turned the press and the rich red grape-juice poured itself into a vat placed for the purpose. The air was full of the scent of muscatel. The men looked as though the red juice ran in their veins and inspired them with energy.
LERIDA MULES.LERIDA MULES.
As the vat filled, it was emptied with a great ladle into a larger barrel that stood inside the archway of the adjoining house. The sight was novel, and the men seemed amused atour interest. They offered us of the juice in a small vessel, declaring it excellent; but there was a suspicious want of cleanliness about the whole thing—it might have been fancy—and we civilly declined the attention; upon which, possibly to set us a good example, they emptied the vessel themselves, smacked their lips and pronounced it very good.
Narrow streets led upwards from the main street to the old cathedral, a steep, rough climb. It was a place to revel in, full of wonderful perspectives and artistic groupings, as much the result of accident as of purpose. The eye was arrested by a bewildering accumulation of wrought-iron balconies, casements and sunblinds, all sparkling in sunshine and shadow, whilst above one could trace a long succession of ancient gabled roofs, clear-cut against the blue sky, the projecting water-spout of every house looking like a grinning gargoyle and adding much to the quaint antiquity of the place. Through the old gates we watched the mules passing in their rich and curious trappings.
Very distinctly we felt that Lerida was a revelation and a discovery; a town by no means to be passed over when searching out the glories of Spain.
We found the narrow thoroughfare in which last night we had almost come to grief; so tortuous and ill-paved, we wondered how we had escaped destruction. Here and there small houses of the meanest description broke the continuity of dead grey walls. At the door of the cottage H. C. had charged sat an evil-looking dog that growled and showed its teeth as we passed and evidently connected us with the midnight raid. Whether the owner of the blunderbuss had killed himself with his own weapon or was only absent on business remained uncertain; he did not appear.
Continuing upwards we presently came out upon the open space surrounding the old cathedral.
The precincts were certainly not ecclesiastical. We seemed to have reached the poorest part of the town, and the houses were quite picturesque in their shabbiness. A splendid doorway admitted to the interior of the semi-religious fortress, before which a sentinel with gun and bayonet kept watch and ward. No one passed him without a special permission from the churlish old commandant of the town, who, after tracing your pedigreeback to Adam, bestowed the simple favour as though conferring upon you the dignity of Spain's high order of the Saint Esprit.
LERIDA.LERIDA.
Strangers and especially Englishmen, evidently visit Lerida at long intervals, and wherever we went we found ourselves attracting an amount of attention that might have confused more bashful minds. As in most other places, the people wereespecially interested in our little kodak, and seemed to think the honour of being taken equal to canonisation. In the market-place men and women threw themselves into groups and attitudes, set out their stalls to the best advantage, and begged the favour of being made immortal.
But as the day wore on the crowd dispersed and disappeared, the market-place grew empty, arcades lost their loungers; the afternoon shadows lengthened; there were not so many sun-flashes in the air; outlines mellowed as the sky behind them grew less dazzling; the river lost some of its jewels.
We were gazing at the latter, at the wonderful outlines of the town rising gradually upon its rock, crowned by that magnificent fortress with its imposing and impressive tower, when a voice suddenly said beside us: "We hope, señor, you have spent a happy day in Lerida and seen the interior of the old cathedral—now nothing but a useless barrack. The commandant suffers from dyspepsia and is capricious. No one ever knows beforehand whether he will grant or withhold permission. It entirely depends upon his digestion."
We turned and saw our Boot-cleaner in Ordinary standing meekly and humbly beside us. Noting his fine face—it was really dignified in spite of his office—his white hair, his nearly ninety years, we thought humility should have been on our side.
"How is it that you, a Frenchman, come to be living on Spanish ground?" we asked.
WINE-PRESSERS: LERIDA.WINE-PRESSERS: LERIDA.
"Ah, señor, thereby hangs a tale. If I am to give you my reason, I must go back seventy years in my life, for it dates from that time. And that, you see, will take us very nearly to the days of Waterloo. All my people were respectable and well-to-do, some even distinguished: there was a prosperous life before me. I was in the French army, serving my time. I had been unfortunate and drawn a low number in conscription; besides which, soldiers were wanted and few escaped. Napoleon in devastating other countries had not spared his own. It was then I committed the one great folly of my life, which has ever since been one of repentance. I fell in love with a beautiful Norman girl of gentle blood and breeding; so madly, so desperately, that I think for the time being I lost the balance of mymind. Every consideration faded before the strength of my passion. This beautiful girl seemed equally in love with me. I was young, they told me I was good-looking, and in my uniform I dare say I was not unattractive. Then came my error. I obtained a week's leave of absence, and deserted. We fled together to Spain, and of course I was outlawed. I sacrificed home, country and honour; I ruined all my worldly prospects; and for what? For a pair of bewitching eyes. Nay, she had more than that; she was a good woman and has made me a good wife; but had she been twice favoured, my folly would have been equally vast. For years and years I was possessed of a fever—that of mal du pays: all I had deliberately thrown away gained a hundred-fold in charm, haunted my mind by day, coloured my dreams. But there was no place for repentance. Now it has all passed away. Señor, my great-nephew is a French count, rich and well spoken of, one of the high ones of the land. He does not even know of my existence. Life has only one thing left me—death! But I pray I may live to close the sightless eyes of my wife, and then follow her speedily, that we may rest in one grave."
"Has your wife long been blind?" we asked in sympathy.
"Only two years, señor. You would not know it to look at her. In spite of her eighty-seven years, her eyes are still soft and bright, though closed to the world. I have now not only to earn the daily bread, but to buy it and manage the household. We have many good neighbours who help the old couple, and look in upon the wife when I am at work. Ah, señor, it is delightful to find one to whom I can talk in my own tongue. Surely the señor is French too?"
"Land of our birth," we confessed; "nevertheless we are English, and would have it so."
The old man hesitated; we saw there was something upon his mind; it came out at last.
"Would the señor deign to come and see the wife, and talk to her a little of France and the French? She still speaks it perfectly, and she too has often longed for the country and privileges that for her sake I threw away. Such a visit would colour the remaining of her days. It is but a few steps."
Who could resist such an appeal? We turned and accompaniedthe patriarch, who in spite of his nearly ninety years, still walked with a certain amount of vigour. The few steps grew into a good many, as the old man passed under the gateway and turned to the left down the long narrow street.
Soon we reached the spot where we had watched the grape-pressing. The men were giving up work and clearing away, leaving nothing behind them but the stains of the fruit and the scent of the muscatel. They nodded in friendly recognition, and we knew the laugh they gave meant to say that the cup we had refused they had found very cheering. The narrow street was growing dim, and in the arched room, half cellar, half wine vault, they had lighted candles. The semi-obscurity was weird and picturesque in the extreme, almost Rembrandt-like in effect. The men's faces were thrown up against the dark background as the light fell upon them; and as one of them sitting astride a barrel raised a cup to his lips, he looked a true disciple of Bacchus.
Our guide passed on and turning up a narrow street halted before the door of a quaint old house. The street was quiet and respectable; the house clean and well cared for, in spite of its age.
"We have lived here for a quarter of a century and more—twenty-seven years," said the old man, "and the house does not look a day older than it looked then. Ah, señor," with a sigh, "we cannot say the same of ourselves. Twenty-seven years in a lifetime make all the difference between youth and age. But let us mount. My wife does not expect you, but you will find her ready to receive the young king himself if he paid her a visit."
We passed up a broad old staircase of solid oak, that would almost have adorned a palace. In days gone by, this house, fallen to a low estate, must have had a greater destiny. The walls were panelled. There was a refined, imposing air about the place. We would have given worlds for the power to transport the staircase over the seas.
The old man mounted to the topmost floor, and knocked at a large oak door which well matched its surroundings. A voice responded, he lifted the latch and we walked in.
"I bring you visitors, Nerissa," said the old man. "A gentleman from France, who will talk to you in our beautiful language, and tell you of scenes and places you have not looked upon for nearly seventy years. You were only eighteen, I only twenty when we turned our backs for ever upon la belle Normandie."
It was a sight worth seeing. The room was large and airy, quaint and old as the rest of the house. Light came in through large casements with latticed panes that bore the unmistakable seal of time. The room itself was in perfect and spotless order. In a large alcove stood the bed, neatly draped and curtained. What furniture the room contained matched its surroundings. There was an utter absence of any commonplace element about it.
But it was not all this that distinguished it so singularly. It was the figure of a little old woman seated near the latticed panes in an arm-chair. The evening light, still strong in the west, fell upon her. As we entered she did not move, but turned her sightless eyes towards us, with the intent, listening look that is so pathetic. She was very small, and looked almost like a fairy-queen. Her hair was white as snow, but still abundant and faultlessly arranged. The face was small and refined, and possessed all the beauty of age, just as in years gone by it must have possessed in a very marked manner all the beauty of youth. It had the placid look the blind so often wear, was delicately flushed, and without line or wrinkle. This was very strange in one who must have had, to some extent at least, a hard and laborious life, with many anxieties. Her dress was neatness itself; an old dark silk probably given to her by a rich visitor whose turn it had served; and it was worn with the air that seemed to betoken one who had been a lady. But her whole appearance and bearing was gentle. It was a perfect and faultless picture, charming to look upon.
We turned to the old man in wonder. His eyes were fixed upon his wife with an intensity of admiration and reverence almost startling. It was evident that the love of youth had survived every trial, all life's rough lessons. So far he could have nothing to regret. The folly of which he had been guilty—and it was an undoubted folly and mistake—had been condoned and excused by the after life.
"We no longer marvel that you deserted the ranks of the army for those of a sweeter service," we said, looking from one to the other and feeling that we gazed upon a wonderful idyll.
"Was she not worth it—even all I renounced!" he cried. "Nerissa, I have told these gentlemen all my boyish folly and indiscretion—all you made me give up for your bewitching eyes."
Almost a youthful flush passed over the old lady's face as she smiled rather sadly in response.
"It was indeed much to renounce for me," she said, in a very sweet voice. "I was not worth it; no woman could be worth it. I ought never have permitted it, and the thought has been one of the lasting sorrows of my life. But we act first and think after. Though after all, what I renounced was also great."
"We are quite sure you would do it all over again. You do not in the least regret it, and your life has been a very happy one."
Again the youthful flush passed over the old lady's face. She put out her hand—a small, delicate hand—as though searching for her husband's. He had soon clasped it.
"Nerissa, you do not regret anything," he said. "You know quite well you would do it all over again if we could go back to the beginning of life."
Her sightless but still wonderfully expressive eyes looked up into his face.
"With you to tempt me, Alphonse, how could I resist? Alas, human nature is weak where the heart is concerned."
"Have you any children?" we asked.
"We have four, señor," replied the old lady. "And grand-children also. Our children are all out in the world, and not one of them lives in Lerida. As far as I was able I brought them up well, and tried to give them a little bearing and refinement. But we have always been poor, and poverty means limitation. They are all prospering, but in fairly humble life. At rare intervals one or other pays us a visit; but time flies quickly and they are soon gone again."
OLD GATEWAYS: LERIDA.OLD GATEWAYS: LERIDA.
Then we talked about France and the French. We happened to know many places in common, and describing what they areto-day, enabled her to realise the vast changes seventy years had worked. The old lady gave many a sigh.
"Alphonse, it is all a new world," she said over and over again. "If we went back to it we should be lost and strange. It is time we passed out of life. But, señor, your visit has brought back a breath of that old life to me. Those who come to us now are humble, and know nothing of our past world. You almost make me feel young again; bring back lost realities, when I was a lady, and had not thrown up all for love, and dreamed not of a humble life of poverty. But, oh, I would renounce it all again a second time for my husband's sake."
Who would have supposed such an idyll in the quiet town of Lerida? When our Boot-cleaner in Ordinary had come to us that morning and received his humble dole for the work done, who could have imagined that such a romance, a poem in real life, was concealed in his history?
When we went back into the quiet streets the gloom had deepened; twilight reigned; a soft glow was in the evening sky; one or two stars were faintly shining. We could not lose the impression of the visit we had just paid; the wonderful little fairy-queen in the arm-chair, who was still ladylike and beautiful and refined in spite of a hard and humble life, and the fine and venerable old man, who for seventy years had remained true and faithful to his first love. No Knight of the Round Table could ever have proved more noble and devoted; worthier King Arthur's friendship. The very streets of the town seemed to have gained a charm as we passed through them on our way to the fonda.
H. C. was singularly quiet and grave. "Of what are you thinking?" we asked.
He started, as if suddenly aroused from sleep. "I am thinking of the faithfulness of that beautiful old couple," he replied. "No, if I tried for a hundred years I never could be as constant as that. In fact I begin to think my only chance of happiness is to emigrate to Salt Lake City and become a Mormon."
"Wait until you are in love," we returned. "You were never that yet. Your fancy has been touched often enough, but your heart never. That comes only once in a lifetime."
H. C. only shook his head and murmured something about having a heart large enough to embrace a whole Agapemone of beauty. We did not argue the point, feeling there are opinions and delusions time alone can correct.
But we went back to the bridge and looked down upon the quiet stream, and beyond the houses of the town to the wonderful outlines of the old cathedral, darkly and distinctly visible against the evening sky. Everything seemed glorified by the story we had just learned, the romance we had witnessed. It was an experience we would not have lost; and henceforth to us the word Lerida would be weighted with a hidden charm of which the interpretation meant everything that was true and chivalrous, everything that was brave and constant, lovely and of good report.
Days of chivalry not over—In the evening light—Night porter grateful—Dragon in full force—Combative and revengeful—Equal to the occasion—Gall turns to sweetness when H. C. appears—Last night in Lerida—Bane of our host's life—Mysterious disappearance—Monastery of Sigena—Devout ladies—Returning at night—Place empty and deserted—Birds flown with keys—Quite a commotion—"The señor is pleased to joke"—Was murder committed?—Mysteries explained—Probably down the well—Drag for skeletons—Host's horror—"We drink the water"—A tragedy—Out in the quiet night—Discords—Lerida café—Create a sensation—Polite captain—Offer declined—Regrets—Final crash—Paradise or Lerida—Deserted market-place—Trees whisper their secrets—El Sereno at the witching hour—Hard upon the angels—Not a bed of roses—Alphonse—End of a long life—Until the dawn—Acolyte and priest—"We must all come to it, señor"—El Sereno disappears for the last time—Daybreak—In presence of death—Alone, but resigned—Surpassing loveliness—Sacred atmosphere.
Days of chivalry not over—In the evening light—Night porter grateful—Dragon in full force—Combative and revengeful—Equal to the occasion—Gall turns to sweetness when H. C. appears—Last night in Lerida—Bane of our host's life—Mysterious disappearance—Monastery of Sigena—Devout ladies—Returning at night—Place empty and deserted—Birds flown with keys—Quite a commotion—"The señor is pleased to joke"—Was murder committed?—Mysteries explained—Probably down the well—Drag for skeletons—Host's horror—"We drink the water"—A tragedy—Out in the quiet night—Discords—Lerida café—Create a sensation—Polite captain—Offer declined—Regrets—Final crash—Paradise or Lerida—Deserted market-place—Trees whisper their secrets—El Sereno at the witching hour—Hard upon the angels—Not a bed of roses—Alphonse—End of a long life—Until the dawn—Acolyte and priest—"We must all come to it, señor"—El Sereno disappears for the last time—Daybreak—In presence of death—Alone, but resigned—Surpassing loveliness—Sacred atmosphere.
SOthe days of chivalry and devotion were not over: could never be over as long as there are Alphonses and Nerissas in the world. As we went back to the hotel in the evening light, the whole town seemed full of romance. One by one the outlines faded and died out, and when we entered the fonda the stars were beginning to shine.
The night porter was standing in the doorway, though his reign had not yet begun. He made us a low bow.
"Señor, allow me to thank you for not complaining of me this morning to the padrone. I am still full of remorse for having locked you out last night, but it is seldom any of our visitors trouble the dark streets of Lerida at midnight. Most of our guests are commercial travellers, who have no eye for the ancient and picturesque, and are generally glad to get early to bed."
Again assuring the worthy man of our good will, we passed up the shabby old staircase. At the top we came into contact with the Dragon striding along with bare arms and flourishing a rolling-pin. She looked the picture of fiery indignation and we wondered what had gone wrong.
After some difficulty we managed to gather that the waiter, in spite of her want of beauty, in spite of her being an appropriated blessing, had offered her a chaste salute. In return for the affront, the rolling-pin—it was awashingpin, by the way—had come into sharp contact with his skull, which, fortunately for him was a hard one. Since then the Dragon had been marching up and down with threatening weapon and flashing eyes, brandishing her rolling-pin like another Communist, mouthing voiceless words.
As soon as she caught sight of H. C., however, her gall turned to sweetness; she marshalled him to our rooms, threw wide the door, and beamed on him one of her most cavernous smiles. That a chaste salute from him would have been very differently received was evident.
It was our last night in Lerida. The landlord still attended us at dinner, for the waiter was nursing his wounds in the kitchen. A violent headache had come on, and he was vowing vengeance against the Dragon, declaring she had imagined the whole thing.
"But for the servants, my life would be happy," said our host. "If they keep the peace with me, they are disputing amongst themselves. The last waiter and chambermaid I had, after quarrelling like cat and dog for six months, suddenly went off one day together, and we never heard of them again. It was a Sunday, and madame and I had gone off with some friends by train to Sariñena—a long day's excursion, for we were going to the Monastery of Sigena, near Villanueva. Has the señor visited the famous monastery?"
We had never done so.
"It is to be regretted," returned the landlord, as he busily changed the plates and poured out the wine. "The monastery is the most interesting in our neighbourhood; and people come from far and wide to see it. In situation it is most romantic, standing near a lovely stream full of fine fish. The nuns, however,don't fish; the very thought would be sacrilege. They are devout ladies, some of them very handsome; a pity so much beauty should be wasted. They are of the order of St. John of Jerusalem, which I have heard dates as far back as the twelfth century, but I am not learned in those matters. I have seen the nuns at mass in their chapel, and they looked like a vision of angels. But I was saying. We had left the hotel in charge of the waiter and chambermaid. As it happened, there were no guests staying here. When we came home at night, we found the place locked and empty. Both servants had flown, and to add insult to injury had taken the keys with them. Fortunately the glass doors in this very dining-room had been left open, and by means of a ladder, and climbing over walls at the risk of one's life, I managed to get in, took the duplicate keys out of my desk, and admitted madame. It caused quite a commotion."
"And had the enterprising pair taken nothing but the keys?" we asked. "Was your gold plate safe, and madame's diamonds?"
"The señor is pleased to joke," laughed the landlord. "My gold plate is pewter, and madame's jewelry is false, excepting her wedding-ring and the few things she happened to have on that never-to-be-forgotten day. No; they had taken nothing. But they had made a first-rate meal, and had tapped and emptied three bottles of my very best Chambertin 1868 vintage, and consumed half a bottle of Chartreuse."
"But you have no proof that they went off together," we suggested. "It may be that murder was committed. The dead body of the chambermaid all this time may be crumbling to dust and ashes in some hole or corner of your cellar. Have you a cellar, or any other place in which a murdered body might be concealed?"
"Santa Maria!" cried our host, turning pale. "The idea never occurred to me, but I shouldn't wonder if you are right. It would explain a good deal that has remained a mystery. We have a deep well out in the yard; so deep that we do not know the bottom, which is supposed to communicate with the river. The man might easily have murdered the woman and thrown her down. And we drink the water!"
"That is hardly the solution that suggests itself. After drinking your three bottles of Chambertin and your half-bottle of Chartreuse, depend upon it their heads began to go round; they felt the world coming to an end, and determined to be beforehand with it. It is clear as daylight: they both threw themselves down the well, and there you will find the skeletons. You had better have it dragged and give them decent burial, or you will certainly be seeing ghosts in the house."
By this time the landlord was trembling with horror; his eyes, grown large and round, would almost have matched the Dragon's. He was no longer in a fit state to pour out wine or change plates.
"And we drink the water," he murmured half a dozen times over. "We drink the water. This accounts for my queer symptoms. But, after all, the bodies cannot be there. They must have communicated with the river, and so floated out to sea. I dare say they will some day turn up in the Panama Canal or on the shores of New Zealand. Señor, I am quite certain this is the true state of the case. I never could understand why those two should go off together. They were always quarrelling, and seemed to hate each other like poison, and I dare say they even disputed as to which should go first down the well. But when all's said and done, it is three years ago, and they will never come back to trouble me."
"Not even as ghosts?"
He shivered.
"I never saw a ghost, señor, but I suppose there are such things. I shouldn't care to see one. Nevertheless, I will have the well dragged—quietly, not to raise a scandal. I can pretend to have dropped in a diamond ring belonging to a client. If the skeletons turn up we must hush up the matter as well as we can, and so dispose of the ghosts. They would never walk after decent burial. Ah, señor, what a tragedy you have opened up! And all the time I was accusing the wretched pair of I know not what!"
Fortunately for us this conversation took place towards the end of dinner, or we should have fared badly. We left the landlord in his dining-room. He had dropped into a chair andwas gazing on vacancy, evidently in deep thought as to how he could have the well dragged without creating a scandal to the detriment of his hotel.
We went out into the quiet night, making sure the night porter was on duty and would keep there. The streets were as dark, quiet and ill-lighted as ever, and we took care to avoid Pandemonium. The market-place, so full and lively this morning, was now empty and silent. From the café already alluded to streams of light and strains of music were flowing. We turned in out of curiosity. Half a dozen musicians at the further end were making unearthly discords: shrieking and wailing instruments set one's teeth on edge and went down one's back like cold water. The room was fairly full, the atmosphere heavy with smoke; such smoke as only the Catalonians know how to produce.
Our entrance created quite a sensation. We were recognised as English, and the English who visit Lerida are few and far between. Was our visit friendly or the opposite? Their glances plainly asked the question. Then one in military uniform came up, and, with a military salute ventured to sit down near us. We thought it a singular proceeding, but decided to take it in good part. He proved to be a captain of the regiment stationed at Lerida, and a really friendly and polite man.
"I perceive, sirs, that you are strangers," he said. "Can I be of any service to you in a place where I am very much at home?"
To which we replied that our stay was drawing to a close, and we had probably seen the best of the town. "There is nothing you can do for us, though we are grateful for your good intentions. But if you would induce those in authority to grant their passes into the fortress with less restriction, you would confer a favour upon any who may come after us."
"A senseless restriction indeed," replied our new friend, "and we all feel it so; but until some disappointed visitor of consequence appeals to the Queen or the Madrid Government, the thing will go on. There is absolutely no reason why all the world should not be admitted."
At this moment the musicians finished up with a crash.The sound was horrible. H. C. made an excruciating grimace and our captain shook with laughter.
"Do you call that music?" we asked.
"Ido not," he returned, "because I have spent much time in Paris, where barbaric music would not be tolerated. But these frantic discords just please the people of Lerida, who have not been educated to anything better. It is over for the night, and now everyone will depart. They have drunk their coffee or wine or spirit, sat a whole evening in a clouded, heated atmosphere, listening enraptured to the strains which have set you quivering, and are going home feeling that if this or paradise were offered to them they would not hesitate to reject paradise. Such is their life."
We got up to depart also.
"I am sorry that I can be of no use to you," said our polite captain; "but if you are leaving Lerida to-morrow, time certainly runs short. I can, however, give you my card, and place myself and all I have at your disposal. If ever you visit Lerida again, and I am quartered here, I hope you will find me out. I will at least promise you a pass into the fortress; and there are a few things you would not be likely to see without the open sesame of one of ourselves."
Upon which he shook hands, gave us a military salute, "wrapped his martial cloak about him," and passed out into the night.
We listened to his quick receding footsteps and then turned away. The silence was only broken by the distant cry of a watchman proclaiming the hour and the weather. "El Sereno," as we called the old guardians of the darkness in Majorca, where many a time we wandered with them in the dead of night amidst the old palaces and watched them light up the wonderful old Moorish remains with their swinging lanterns.