THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 
 
 - . 37
 
 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES.
 
 6 o o~y o 
 
 SPANISH 
 LEGENDARY TALES 
 
 COLLECTED BY 
 
 MRS. S. G. C. MIDDLEMORE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 'ROUND A POSADA FIRE' 
 
 lUntion 
 CHATTO AND WINDUS, PICCADILLY 
 
 1885 
 
 (The right of translation is reserved)
 
 pq 
 t*t(.i 
 
 5 riS 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 IN speaking of myself on the title-page as the 
 " author " of " Round a Posada Fire," I wish to ex- 
 plain that I use the word "author" simply in default 
 of a better one. In that book, as in this, the stories 
 told are popular in their character, and are the creation 
 of no nameable individual. All given in the present 
 volume I gathered in the course of a residence of 
 several years in the Pyrenees, and of one or two visits 
 in the north of Spain. Those from whom I heard 
 them (and many more of the same kind), and whom 
 I questioned as to their origin, could assign no other 
 source to them than oral tradition. My own share in 
 bringing them before the public consists in having 
 heard them, remembered them, and put them into 
 English in as nearly as possible the words in which 
 they were told to me. Though I have from time to 
 time been obliged to insert connecting or introductory 
 passages, yet the words, as well as the substance of the 
 tales, are mainly those of the original stories. 
 
 I need not remind anyone at all familiar with the 
 popular life of Spain, that the prose legend, as well 
 as the ballad, has in the course of time acquired 
 there a fixed and definite shape ; and passes from 
 mouth to mouth, and is handed down from one 
 generation to another, with but few verbal changes. 
 
 *?44952 
 
 -K. 3L*J-*Jrfc
 
 vi PREFACE. 
 
 The reason for this is not far to seek : the greater 
 part of the Spanish people have hitherto found their 
 chief mental recreation in folk-lore. Popular legends, 
 whether in prose or verse, have been accordingly de- 
 veloped in Spain to an extent not easy to be matched 
 elsewhere. Intelligent and imaginative, and at the 
 same time untaught and superstitious, the Spanish 
 peasant finds in these tales one of his chief pleasures. 
 
 The mere fact that they exist in vast numbers, and 
 that many of them bear upon the same subject, renders 
 it necessary that, if they are to be remembered at 
 all, they must be remembered with verbal accuracy ; 
 otherwise they would in a short time become hope- 
 lessly confused one with another. One of the most 
 popular subjects of Spanish folk-lore is the " Christ 
 of the Vega." I have myself heard at least a dozen 
 legends turning on this theme ; and many more 
 versions must certainly exist. It would be impossible 
 to keep these various stories apart in the popular 
 memory, unless they had become, so to speak, stereo- 
 typed. And this is the case with the majority of 
 Spanish prose legends. They have assumed, in the 
 course of time, a fixed and traditional shape, in their 
 words no less than in their subjects. 
 
 It is a truism that the memory of those who cannot 
 read or write is, on the average, stronger than that of 
 those who have had a literary education. When once 
 education is diffused among the masses of the Spanish 
 people, those legends which have not been committed 
 to writing will be gradually lost. The new interests 
 which education brings with it will also weaken 
 among the people those tastes to which tales of the 
 marvellous appeal. But this time seems still to be 
 distant in Spain.
 
 PREFACE. vii 
 
 At the present moment ballads, and tales such as 
 these, are widely current among the people. The 
 number of stories which many of them can carry in 
 their memory is astonishing. I have known an 
 instance of a Spaniard, who had devoted much time 
 to collecting legends by word of mouth, who certainly 
 knew several hundreds by heart. I have myself a 
 retentive memory, but of the very large number which 
 I have heard I cannot remember with verbal accuracy 
 more than between forty and fifty. But, in general, 
 the powers of educated persons fall in this respect 
 far short of what can be achieved by those who have 
 never used the substitutes for memory which education, 
 as commonly practised, offers so freely. I may remark, 
 in passing to draw an illustration from the popular 
 life of Italy that the actors in the Tuscan peasant 
 drama are, for the most part, unable to read or write, 
 and that many of them learn with ease .very large 
 numbers of plays. 
 
 These stories then, let me repeat, are not my own in 
 any other sense than that I have remembered them, 
 and put them into English. Wherever I have been 
 able to trace them in a printed form, I have mentioned 
 the fact ; but the source from which I got them is 
 popular tradition. I have printed only those of which 
 I had a tolerably exact verbal remembrance. 
 
 No better instance can be found of the nature and 
 history of a Spanish legend than the well-known tale of 
 the " Lovers of Teruel."* There is probably no story 
 more widely known in Spain, and no person with any 
 first-hand knowledge of Spanish folk-lore can fail to be 
 familiar with it. 
 
 * See note to the legend " The Moorish Promise," p. 245, in 
 which the history of another such story is also traced.
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 It is printed, as commonly told, in my former book. 
 The story dates back at least to the thirteenth century, 
 and while it has been repeatedly used as a subject for 
 literary treatment, it remains a popular legend to this 
 day. It is the theme of a poem by Yague de Salas, 
 published in the year 1616 ; of another by Artieda, 
 published in 1581 ; of the well-known play by Mont- 
 alban ; of a second by Tirso de Molina, published in 
 1635 ; of a third by Hartzenbusch, published in 1836 ; 
 and of an anonymous novel, published in 1838 in 
 Valencia. Prose versions in print of a tale so old and 
 so widely popular must certainly exist, but I have met 
 with none. There is a very curious fact to be mentioned 
 with regard to this story. In many cases .a poetical 
 rendering of a common legend maintains itself in the 
 popular memory side by side with the prose version ; 
 and in some cases the verbal agreement between the 
 two is very striking. Yet I have looked carefully through 
 the Romancero General, containing many hundreds of 
 legends, without finding a trace of any poetical version 
 of this most popular story. The collection contains, 
 nevertheless, renderings in verse of many prose legends 
 comparatively unknown. I may add, that this story, 
 still told by thousands of unlettered Spaniards, passed 
 at an early period into Italy, and was used by Boccacio 
 in one of his tales ; and again, not many years ago, was 
 adapted from the " Decamerone " by Alfred de Musset 
 in his " Sylvia." 
 
 I have only a word to add in conclusion. Friends 
 have remarked to me on the weird and tragic air of 
 many of these tales. The answer is simply that such, 
 as a fact, is the general character of the Spanish legend. 
 Others have said that the style of them seemed to be of 
 a different character from that which might be expected
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 of peasants and muleteers. To this the reply is that 
 the Spanish, like the Italian peasant, must not be judged 
 by the same standard as the English. Illiterate as the 
 southern peasant may be, he is not wholly destitute of 
 what may be fairly called culture. 
 
 Tigri remarks on the purity of the style in which the 
 Tuscan peasantry compose their " Stornelli" and " Ris- 
 petti ;" and Ticknor, as well as others, has made a 
 similar observation with regard to the Spanish Ro- 
 mances. Neither in speech nor manners is there in 
 Spain that gulf between the educated and uneducated 
 classes which exists in England. 
 
 This volume attempts to give a faithful reflection of 
 the popular imagination of Spain, when it turns from, 
 poetry to prose as its means of expression. 
 
 MARIA TRINIDAD HOWARD MIDDLEMORE. 
 CHELSEA, MAY, 1885.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 LEGEND , 1-AGE 
 
 I. THE DAUGHTER OF THE RIVER . . .1 
 
 II. THE FIRE SPIRIT . . . . .12 
 
 III. THE WALLED NUN OF AVILA . . 3 2 
 
 IV. THE FISHERMAN . . . . -41 
 
 V. THE PETRIFIED MAN . . . -5* 
 
 VI. THE LEGEND OF THE JESSAMINE. . 6 1 
 
 VII. THE MASKED BALL . . . .69 
 
 VIII. THE CASTLE OF JATIVA . . . -79 
 
 ix. THE SMUGGLER'S DAUGHTER . . -87 
 
 X. DON RODRIGO LADRON . . . .104 
 
 XI. THE WERE-WOLF . . . . . Il6 
 
 XII. THE GHOST OF THE ARENA . .123 
 
 XIII. THE SERPENT WOMAN . * . I 3 I 
 
 XIV. THE CHRIST OF BURGOS . . . .144 
 
 XV. THE FLY-CATCHER (" PAPAMOSCAS ") . . 154 
 
 XVI. THE BEWITCHED VIOLIN . . . . 159
 
 xii CONTENTS. 
 
 LEGEND I'AGB 
 
 XVII. THE RENEGADE JEW . . . .169 
 
 XVIII. THE CONFESSION OF DON PEDRO . -174 
 
 XIX. THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK . .183 
 
 XX. THE MIRACLE OF SANTA BUENAVENTURA . 196 
 
 XXI. THE SILVER SPECTRE .... 2OO 
 
 XXII. ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA . . 208 
 
 XXIII. THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOND BLOSSOM . 221 
 
 XXIV. THE CORPORALES (ALTAR LINEN) OF DAROCA . 230 
 XXV. THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER . . 234 
 
 XXVI. A MOORISH PROMISE . . . . ' 245 
 
 XXVII. THE ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM . . 251 
 
 XXVIII. THE CHRIST OF THE OLIVE . . 2 57 
 
 XXIX. THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK . . .267 
 
 XXX. THE GOLDEN PITCHER 288
 
 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 i. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE RIVER. 
 
 THE Principality of the Asturias is a narrow strip of 
 country, separated from Leon by a barrier of hills. A 
 second range to the north, which fringes the Bay of 
 Biscay, is called La Cordillera de la Costa. Both of 
 these grand chains have offshoots which run down into 
 the valleys. It is a land of hills and dales, meadows, 
 rivers, streams, and forests, while here and there the 
 scenery becomes very wild and grand. The province 
 is one, which, from its great variety of landscape, is a 
 favourite both with artists and lovers of trout-fishing. 
 
 About an hour's ride from Luarca, in the Asturias, 
 there is a deep and romantic valley of rocks, shaded by 
 tall chestnut trees. Beyond this valley is a wild and 
 dreary country, which leads to Gizon and Oviedo. In 
 this part the Asturian mountains rise to a considerable 
 height. For the most part they consist of a dark granite, 
 covered here and there with a thin layer of earth. 
 They run down in broken ridges very near to the sea, 
 and have deep and precipitous defiles, each with its 
 rivulet, which falls into the sea. The road lies across 
 these defiles, of which there are seven, and they are 
 called in the language of the country " Las Siete Bello- 
 tas " (The Seven Acorns). The middle one has a grand 
 
 i
 
 2 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 and solemn air. A roaring torrent pours down the side, 
 and flows straight and swiftly to the sea, while at the 
 upper end of it is a precipitous wall of rock (as black 
 as night), which is several hundred feet high. From 
 this gorge on either side small glens branch off, and 
 some of these are so overgrown with trees and brush 
 that you can hardly see into them beyond a few 
 yards. 
 
 This part of Spain is much frequented by artists 
 during the early autumn and the spring. The " venta," 
 or hostelry, is but an indifferent one, but eggs can 
 always be had, and a savoury " puchero " or " guisado " 
 (stew) got ready very soon, so that those accustomed 
 to Spanish cookery need not starve. 
 
 Here, one lovely evening late in April, was assembled 
 a party of three artists. They were seated round a 
 small table in the corner laughing gaily, and comparing 
 notes as to their respective day's work. Each one of 
 these young men would have attracted notice anywhere. 
 The one who sat at the head of the table, and served 
 out the " guisado " of hare, was a tall, lithe creature, 
 with bushy black hair, pleasant restless black eyes, and 
 a smile that lit up his otherwise grave face like sun- 
 shine. He looked as though he had much talent and 
 a keen, observing nature. His hands were nervous and 
 well-shaped, but the ringers were long and restless, and 
 looked as though they were used to much plastic work. 
 Indeed, he had begun his artistic career as a sculptor, 
 but finding that many effects which appealed to his 
 artistic nature could not easily be rendered in marble 
 without debasing the art, he had taken up water-colour 
 painting with great success, and was one of the rising 
 young artists of Spain. His name was Don Ramon 
 Garcilasso. 
 
 Opposite to him sat a young man the very reverse of 

 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE RIVER. 3 
 
 him. Fair, spectacled, blue-eyed, with a round bullet 
 head and a German appearance, he talked in a quiet 
 and indifferent way, as if he took no interest in any- 
 thing. He was called by his friends " Pancho," but his 
 real name was Francisco Carvajal. 
 
 The third artist was much younger than his com- 
 panions, very dreamy, very emotional and excitable. 
 He was the son of a rich Barcelona merchant, and 
 needed nothing that fortune could give him. But he 
 had taken a fancy to the idea of being an artist, and 
 his father had acquiesced in his desire. His work was 
 always done by fits and starts. He had never known 
 what it was to really earn his own living, and be un- 
 certain of his daily bread if he did not work, as his two 
 friends did. 
 
 The two earnest young artists, his jovial companions, 
 did their very best, by dint of joking and poking fun at 
 Juan Padilla (as the youngest artist was called), to instil 
 into his mind a little of the ardent love for his work 
 that they felt for theirs, but it was of no avail. For 
 days he would idle about, fishing and dreaming, and 
 never look at his easel or his picture. 
 
 The long common room in which these three ycung 
 men were sitting was filled with " arrieros " (muleteers), 
 guides, and gipsies. An elderly woman, assisted by 
 two scraggy, ugly daughters, was preparing the different 
 " pucheros " round the fire, while the owners of the 
 several dishes overlooked their proceedings with atten- 
 tive eyes. 
 
 Gradually, however, the respective meals were cooked, 
 and those who had been awaiting them subsided into 
 silence, which was only broken by the cheerful chat of 
 the three artists at the round table. 
 
 "Juan," cried Garcilasso, "we shall have to intro- 
 duce you to the Mist Maiden, the daughter of the river,
 
 4 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 if you continue so very dreamy. You are hardly com- 
 pany for a mouse." 
 
 " Have you ever seen her ?" said Juan, waking up. 
 
 " No, no, not I," replied Garcilasso, with a twinkle 
 in his eye ; " but ask Carvajal about her. He has seen 
 her, and can tell you all about her." 
 
 " Really, can you ?" cried Juan in a fever of excite- 
 ment, and turning to Carvajal, who sat looking at his 
 young companion with the quiet stolidity of one satis- 
 fied to the utmost with his dinner. 
 
 "Yes, I have seen her," he replied slowly, "and I 
 never wish to see her again. She had the loveliest figure 
 and eyes of any creature that I ever saw." 
 
 " How did it all happen ?" asked Juan eagerly. 
 
 "Well," answered Carvajal, twirling his glass round 
 and round, and looking at the tablecloth, " it happened 
 this way. I went down to the ' Siete Bellotas ' to paint 
 the cascade for a commission I had, and was just 
 preparing to put up my easel and materials after a 
 hard day's work, when I suddenly became aware of the 
 presence of a very beautiful woman. I remember at 
 the time wondering how in the name of the Three 
 Kings she had come there without my hearing her ; 
 because just where the best view is to be had of the 
 cascade, there is a great quantity of brushwood all 
 about, you remember," he said, raising his eyes to- 
 wards Garcilasso, " and no sound had I heard of crack- 
 ling or moving. However, she passed me, and made 
 directly for the cascade. I noticed that she was dressed 
 in a gauzy, filmy white stuff, which showed off her 
 figure to the greatest advantage. When she had ap- 
 proached to almost the edge of the precipice, which 
 falls sheer down two hundred feet at least, she paused 
 a long time. All. sorts of ideas of suicide and insanity 
 crossed my mind as I hurried after her to prevent her 

 
 THE DAUGPITER OF THE RIVER, 5 
 
 from doing anything desperate. She must have heard 
 my footsteps, although I moved as noiselessly as I 
 could, in order not to frighten her; for she turned 
 slowly round and faced me. She had a truly lovely 
 face, but all I remember distinctly were the most ex- 
 quisite deep violet eyes that I ever saw in a human 
 head. They were like the Mediterranean when the 
 sun shines on it deep and unfathomable, and yet 
 dancing with light and blueness. She was singing to 
 herself in a sweet low voice, and these were the words 
 she sang : 
 
 " ' Soy la hija del rio y de la niebla, 
 Y cantando paso al mar ; 
 Cuando siento los besos de las olas, 
 Soy tan feliz que no puedo callar. 
 A quien toco al pecho y a la frente, 
 Ello no quiere mas olvidar 
 Los ojos y la cancion de la nina 
 Quien se llama la hija del mar. 
 Vien conmigo, y cantaremos 
 Las delicias del amor.' 
 
 " ' I am the child of the river and mist, 
 
 And I sing as I flow to the sea ; 
 When the touch of the waves has my forehead kissed, 
 
 I am happy as happy can be. 
 Whom I touch on the breast and the forehead 
 
 Remembers for ever and ever 
 The eyes and the song of the maiden 
 
 Who is born of the mist and the river. 
 Come with me, let's sing together 
 
 The delights of love and sea.' 
 
 " By this time I was close to her ; and as she sang, 
 " ' A quien toco al pecho y a la frente,' 
 
 she suited the action to the word, and laid her slender 
 white hand on my forehead and breast. My heart 
 seemed suddenly to turn cold, and my feet refused 
 to move. There I stood, gazing at her ; she smiled in 
 my face, and with a most graceful movement lay down
 
 6 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 in the foam of the cascade and disappeared from my 
 eyes. 
 
 "I leaned over that black and dreadful precipice, 
 fearing to see her dashed to pieces at the bottom. I 
 could see nothing. But I heard her voice singing : 
 
 "' And while singing I pass to the sea, 
 Come with me, we'll sing together 
 The delights of love and sea.' " 
 
 As Carvajal ended his story, he raised his eyes and 
 looked at Juan to see the effect upon the boy. He 
 was startled at the change in him. Instead of the 
 dreamy look in his eyes, there was a dangerous excite- 
 ment in them. His cheeks were deeply flushed, and 
 he was leaning on the table, listening with breathless 
 attention. 
 
 " I should like to see her," he said, after drawing a 
 deep breath. 
 
 " Better not," said one of the muleteers from the 
 other end of the room, joining in the conversation. 
 
 " Better not. 
 
 " ' Las delicias del amor,' 
 
 in her company, mean, in the end, either madness or 
 death. The third sight is enough." 
 
 Seeing that Juan's curiosity was greatly excited, 
 Carvajal turned the conversation abruptly to other 
 subjects, and shortly after they parted for the night. 
 
 Carvajal upbraided Garcilasso, when they were alone, 
 for asking him to tell his adventure with the mist-maiden 
 to such an excitable and imaginative person as Juan, 
 saying that he might come to harm, according to the 
 superstition, if he followed the Daughter of the River 
 many times. But Garcilasso laughed at him for think- 
 ing such things, and Carvajal soon forgot all about the 
 matter, and fell asleep. 
 
 But not so the young Juan. The story had made a 

 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE RIVER. 7 
 
 strong impression upon his mind ; far stronger than 
 either of his companions dreamed of. He longed to 
 see the mist-maiden and her beautiful eyes. He turned 
 and tossed on his bed, and longed for the day to come 
 that he might go to the Cascade of the Bellotas. At 
 last he fell into a heavy sleep, and when he awoke he 
 found that his two friends had gone to their work, and 
 had left a message telling him where they were to work 
 that day. 
 
 Now was his opportunity. His companions, who 
 would have laughed at him had he confided to them 
 his desire to see the beautiful Daughter of the River, 
 were gone. The coast was clear, and he could do as he 
 pleased. So, seizing his easel and the necessaries for 
 painting, he started off to the Bellotas, with a lighter 
 heart and gayer spirits than he had had for months. 
 For was he not going to test one of the peasant super- 
 stitions of his country ? Meanwhile his companions 
 became more and more uneasy as the day wore on and 
 Juan did not make his appearance. Neither of them 
 dared to state his fears to the other. They cast hurried 
 glances about them from time to time, and though each 
 suspected the anxiety of the other, they worked in 
 moody silence. Carvajal recalled the feverish excited 
 look on the young painter's face the evening before, 
 and felt certain that his fears were likely to be realized, 
 and that Juan had gone to meet the mist-maiden, while 
 Garcilasso remembered with pain his scepticism when 
 " Pancho " had warned him of his doubts. 
 
 At last, about four o'clock, they both got so uneasy 
 that they could bear their anxiety no longer, but turned 
 to each other with white faces and trembling lips. 
 
 " Let us go and find him !" they cried in one breath ; 
 and with one accord they packed their pictures away, 
 and started for the Bellotas.
 
 8 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 The evening light was the best that they could have 
 had for their sketches ; and it was to their artistic 
 natures a grievous trial to leave such a chance. Little 
 flaky pink and blue clouds were floating like gossamer 
 islands in the sky, while the sun departed in a golden 
 glory. But their hearts were too sore with trouble, 
 and they could not stay. How should they face the 
 confiding father in Barcelona on their return, if any- 
 thing happened to the young lad who had been en- 
 trusted to their care ? 
 
 It was quite a long walk to the Bellotas from their 
 work, and they arrived there long after night had 
 fallen. But no trace of Juan could they find. They 
 went to the edge of the precipice, and called and 
 shouted, whistled and whooped. No answer came. 
 All they could hear was a distant voice singing. The 
 wind carried back to their ears the refrain 
 
 " Come with me, we'll sing together 
 The delights of love and sea." 
 
 " There is that accursed witch again," said Carvajal 
 between his teeth. " I only hope that the boy has not 
 been here to-day." 
 
 " You do not really believe that superstition, do you, 
 Pancho ?" inquired Garcilasso earnestly. 
 
 " I do believe my own eyes, without the shadow of a 
 doubt," returned Carvajal gloomily, "and I have cer- 
 tainly seen her." 
 
 After searching for nearly an hour, and calling in 
 every direction, they returned together to their inn. 
 Nothing had been seen there of Juan since ten in the 
 morning, and it was then nearly eight at night. The 
 two artists looked at each other with anxious faces, and 
 were planning what they had better do next, when the 
 door opened and in walked Juan. 

 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE RIVER. 9 
 
 He looked very white ; his hair and face were 
 dripping wet, and his eyes were wild. To the earnest 
 inquiries of his friends he made only surly replies, 
 sometimes requiring the question to be repeated several 
 times before answering at all. 
 
 " But where have you been ?" cried Garcilasso and 
 Carvajal. " We have been expecting you at the forest, 
 where we were painting; and then we went to the 
 Bellotas, but could find no trace of you. Where have 
 you been ?" 
 
 " I have seen her," said Juan, with more energy and 
 excitement in his voice than he had shown since he 
 entered. " You did not say half enough about her 
 eyes. They are truly divine." 
 
 "And did she touch you, or do you any harm ? For 
 you look as though you had seen a ghost." 
 
 Juan seemed not to hear for a few minutes, and then 
 answered slowly, while his two friends stared at him in 
 terrified silence : 
 
 " She touched me here," pointing to his forehead, 
 " and here," ptitting his hand on his heart ; " and then 
 I lost her and myself too." 
 
 After this speech he finished his dinner in perfect 
 silence, not joining in any of the bright sallies and 
 genial conversation with which his two companions 
 tried to cheer him. Indeed, he hardly heard a word, 
 and very shortly left them. 
 
 "We must keep guard over Juan," were the first 
 words Garcilasso said when Juan had gone. " We 
 must neither of us leave him for a single minute if we 
 can avoid it, for either he will go raving mad with this 
 foolish superstition (I wish my tongue had been cut out 
 before I ever spoke of that witch), or he will throw 
 himself into the waterfall and kill himself." 
 
 For a week they managed to keep a constant watch
 
 io SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 over Juan ; and although he was very surly and cross, 
 they were patient, and tried to make amends for their 
 former indiscretion in telling him of the mist-maiden. 
 
 But Juan grew restless under this eternal vigilance 
 He longed unutterably for the sight of her who had 
 bewitched him ; and he felt that no matter what the 
 consequences were, he must see her again. So one day 
 he told his two friends that he was ill, and indeed he 
 looked so. For nights he had had only troubled sleep, 
 sometimes none at all. His cheeks were sunken, his 
 complexion grey, and his eyes hollow, but lighted up 
 by an intense fever of excitement. He really looked as 
 though he were in the last stages of consumption. 
 
 Garcilasso and Carvajal felt that he was perhaps 
 better alone, feeling so ill, and went to their work, 
 quite satisfied that they would find him the stronger 
 for the rest when they came back. 
 
 They were hardly out of sight before Juan got up, 
 dressed himself very hastily, and went out. About 
 noon Garcilasso and Carvajal were startled by the 
 appearance of one of the scraggy daughters of the land- 
 lady, who, white as a ghost and breathless with the 
 haste she had made, gasped out that the sick young 
 gentleman had got up in his delirium and had gone in 
 the direction of the cascade, and she was afraid would 
 be drowned unless they hastened to his assistance. 
 
 Hurriedly leaving their work, they at once ran to 
 the waterfall, and there, after much search, found Juan 
 lying close to the black precipice in a dead faint. They 
 lifted him and carried him to the inn, where for weeks 
 he lay between life and death, and where the two 
 young painters exercised their utmost skill in nursing 
 him and giving him all the remedies which they could 
 remember as being safe in cases such as his. In his 
 delirium he would shout the song of the mist-maiden,
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF THE RIVER. 11 
 
 while Carvajal and Garcilasso gazed at each other with 
 white and frightened faces. The fever after a time 
 abated, only to leave Juan as weak as a child. 
 
 One night Garcilasso was watching beside him, and, 
 tired with the constant nursing, fell sound asleep in his 
 chair. Waking after a time with a start, he found the 
 bed empty and Juan gone. 
 
 He roused Carvajal, and they both went at once as 
 fast as they could to the cascade. They heard a wild 
 sweet music, and Juan shouting out, 
 
 " We'll sing together 
 The delights of love and sea." 
 
 When they arrived at the spot they saw a white 
 heap, which proved to be their friend, lying on the edge 
 of the precipice. They lifted him up, but Juan Padilla 
 was gone beyond the power of human aid, and mourn- 
 fully they carried their burden back to the inn. 
 
 As they moved slowly along the paths overgrown 
 with brushwood, they could hear the mist-maiden 
 singing : 
 
 " He who once hears my wild solemn singing 
 
 Will not care ever more to forget 
 That while I towards the dark sea was winging, 
 
 On the way thither we two had met. 
 I'm the child of the mist and the river, 
 I'm the loveliest pearl of the sea."
 
 II. 
 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 
 
 THERE is a small village on the way from Granada to 
 Murcia, called Purullena, where the peasants used to 
 dwell in caves and holes which were dug out of the 
 soft hillocks. The road is studded all along with crosses 
 and memorials of desperate fights, drunken bouts, and 
 quarrels about love matters. The village itself is so 
 squalid that but very few of the wretched tenements 
 which are used for sheltering people could be called 
 houses. In them, however, lived many persons, who 
 were only too thankful to have a place to hide them- 
 selves in, or to take refuge from the severe cold, which 
 sometimes penetrates even to Murcia. 
 
 In one of these forlorn and wretched huts lived a 
 poor old woman named Cipriana, who was too far ad- 
 vanced in years to do very hard work, but who occa- 
 sionally helped her neighbours for a bit of dinner, and 
 took care of the babies of the village, while their 
 mothers worked in the fields. She had had a hard life; 
 first she was in service, then a farm-hand, and then a 
 tailor. At last she married a fascinating barber, who 
 was the " Figaro" of Murcia. He was somewhat uncer- 
 tain in his temper at home, though outside he was 
 always the cheeriest and brightest of beings. There 
 was nobody like Antonio for spreading the last scandal, 
 or telling the best story in the whole country round ; 

 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 13 
 
 and he cut hair and shaved beards as though his instru- 
 ments were made of satin. He was the favourite of 
 all, and at last had a large practice in shaving and 
 surgery, and especially in the use of cupping and 
 leeches. But with his large practice he took to very 
 dissipated habits and began to spend like a prince. He 
 took his wife with him sometimes when he travelled, but 
 she was more often left behind than taken. In his 
 absences, she did the work at home, going as barber to 
 the different customers, and doing her work very well 
 too. But the money came to an end at last, and Antonio 
 never returned to his wretched wife. Although it was 
 almost a blessing to get rid of him, as he had turned out 
 to be the bane of her life, she grieved and mourned 
 over him as if he had been the best of husbands. 
 
 Time at last gave her peace, and she managed to 
 live by barbering and tailoring in her native village of 
 Puruilena. When she grew older and more infirm, she 
 took to doing odds-and-ends for her neighbours for a 
 meal, and watching the tiny babies while their mothers 
 were at work. 
 
 It was the " night of the dead ;" and old Cipriana 
 was sitting over her " brasero," musing over her past 
 life, and wondering why some should be so very poor 
 and others so very rich, when a voice almost at her 
 elbow said : 
 
 " I can't answer that question, but I can tell you, 
 good mother, that if the elements had their own way, 
 everyone, rich or poor, should have his share of the 
 good things of life. We try to distribute them equally, 
 but some of us can't, on account of the precautions with 
 which man has surrounded himself." 
 
 Cipriana, who had fallen half asleep, roused herself 
 and looked about her, expecting to see some friendly 
 visitor who had come to have a chat and cheer her up
 
 H SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 on this ghostly night (for the spirits are supposed to 
 return to earth on that night, and in Spain neighbours 
 and friends congregate round the fire to tell stories and 
 keep each other company during the wanderings of the 
 spirits). But she could see no one, and was settling 
 herself down for another nap when a small, flute-like 
 voice at her elbow said, " I am here on the ' brasero.' " 
 There, sure enough, was the queerest little pigmy of a 
 creature that ever the world saw, sitting upon the live 
 coals, with a curious long red -cap upon his head, and 
 his red slippers hanging out behind at the heels like 
 two more caps. Cipriana was much astonished at the 
 apparition, but the elf seemed to feel quite at home, 
 and nodded to her in the most friendly way. 
 
 " Do not be afraid of me," he said, " for I may be of 
 some help to you in improving your condition. I am 
 sure you are poor enough and old enough to be taken 
 care of by some generous soul who could afford it. 
 There are lots of them at Madrid ; but it is a queer 
 world, after all," he said musingly, " for however rich 
 people are, they never feel so, but always think they 
 can afford nothing to anyone but themselves." 
 
 " But who are you, my little friend ?" said Cipriana, 
 much frightened, and gazing at her unknown guest 
 with great alarm. 
 
 " I am a good friend to the human race, if men would 
 but believe it, for I force landlords to rebuild when the 
 houses are too unhealthy to be lived in." 
 
 " But where do you live, my little friend ?" asked 
 Cipriana, more alarmed than ever. 
 
 "Oh, anywhere," was the airy answer; "generally, 
 when no work is to be done, in the centre of the earth ; 
 but all over the world, in fact, at one time or another." 
 
 " And why are you sitting on the blazing coals ? I 
 should think that you would find it uncomfortable.
 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 15 
 
 Gan I do anything for you in the way of eating ? You 
 must be hungry/' continued the poor old dame, 
 frightened to find that she was housed for the night 
 with a spirit that would not explain itself. " I am not 
 rich, as you see, but perhaps I could cook something 
 to please you," she said, inwardly hoping fervently that 
 her unwelcome guest would speedily depart. But 
 nothing seemed further from the pigmy's thoughts. 
 
 "Well, my good dame," laughed the little man, " I 
 won't trouble you to cook me anything, because, as I 
 am a fire spirit, I am generally hot enough ; but if you 
 have a few sticks and a few lucifer matches, I will see 
 to my supper myself." 
 
 The old woman was more frightened than ever, and 
 tremblingly brought to her extraordinary visitor the 
 only few remaining sticks and matches she had, 
 wondering what she should do herself to light the 
 morning's bit of charcoal. 
 
 " Don't worry about the morning's fire," said the 
 pigmy, answering her thought. " You will find plenty 
 of firewood ready, and necessaries to last you until my 
 next visit." 
 
 "Oh!" groaned Cipriana in spirit; "he is coming 
 again !" 
 
 " Yes ; I am coming again," replied the little man ; 
 " and although you are so afraid of me, and have been 
 hoping that I would not remain for the evening and 
 night, I will tell you that I have come to help you to 
 make a fortune, and shall not stay any longer than just 
 to put you in the way of doing so. But first I must 
 have some supper." 
 
 Whereupon he put the wood in the brasier, sat in 
 the flames while it burned up, and calmly eat the brim- 
 stone of the matches, while he cast the wooden part 
 into the brasier under him. Having eaten a bundle of
 
 1 6 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 matches, he apparently felt refreshed. His cheeks 
 were flushed and crimson ; his cap became of a flame- 
 coloured red, and his shoes gave out a deep glow. 
 
 Cipriana stared with horror at her little guest. But 
 he appeared very comfortable, and took no heed of her 
 distress. 
 
 " As I told you before," he said, " I am the spirit of 
 fire, and I know whenever any incendiary business is 
 to be done in any part of the world. There will be a 
 very destructive fire before very long at Murcia, and if 
 you predict it to the authorities, you can make your 
 fortune. Of course you must not expect to be listened 
 to at first ; but when they find that what you say comes 
 true, then you will be well repaid. It seems hard that 
 an honest woman like you should have hardly enough 
 to eat, and that charletans should reap their thousands 
 of reales." 
 
 Here the little man got off his brasier and prepared 
 to go, to Cipriana's great relief. 
 
 " Remember," he said, as he stood on the stone floor, 
 " in a fortnight's time part of Murcia will be in flames. 
 Get as much money as you can scrape together to take 
 you there, and predict the fire to the governor or any- 
 one in authority ; and if it turn out successfully, you 
 shall see me again." 
 
 With which words he departed as suddenly as he had 
 appeared, leaving the old woman nearly senseless with 
 fright. In fact, she was found the next morning by 
 some of the neighbours sitting in her chair staring 
 into vacancy, and muttering to herself; no fire in the 
 brasier, and she nearly perished with cold. As a rule 
 she was an early riser, and was up and about before 
 her neighbours. So they naturally wondered at finding 
 her door shut and the windows closed after the sun was 
 high in the heavens. At first they thought Cipriana
 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 17 
 
 must be ill when they saw her sitting in her chair re- 
 gardless of all about her. But she soon roused herself, 
 and went about the house doing her work as usual, 
 and replying courteously to all the questions that her 
 neighbours plied her with. She kept her own counsel, 
 however, about the little visitor of the night before, 
 and the gossips of the village got very little more in- 
 formation out of her than that she had been thinking 
 pretty deeply about her life, as everyone should on All- 
 Hallow-E'en. 
 
 Silent though she was, however, she had her mind 
 full of ideas. Her head was spinning with all that the 
 pigmy had said, that she might make something out of 
 this fire that was to break out in Murcia in a fortnight's 
 time, and that she was to scrape money enough to 
 take her there, and to warn the authorities that this 
 fire was to come. 
 
 But how was she to get the money together to take 
 the journey ? The dear saints knew that she was as 
 poor as a marmot ; that she had nothing really but the 
 clothes she stood in, and a few wretchedly poor articles 
 for daily needs. And where was she to get the money 
 from, with which she was to travel and astonish those 
 good magistrates by the tidings she had to give them, 
 so that they would gladly give her a recompense suffi- 
 cient to ensure the little pigmy's reappearance and her 
 subsequent fortune ? 
 
 In her dilemma, old Cipriana went to her priest and 
 ghostly counsellor, and asked him if he could help her 
 to go to Murcia, as she had important business there, 
 and must get there within a fortnight. The good aged 
 man was almost as poor as Cipriana herself, and had a 
 pauper parish in his charge. The entire community 
 had not more than a dozen reales among them to live 
 upon, not to speak of anything for journeys; and 
 
 2
 
 1 8 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Murcia was a long way off. At first he thought that 
 his old parishioner had lost her mind. She had lived 
 in Purullena so many years, and had been always so 
 contented and cheery over such scanty living and means, 
 that he could not understand what business this poor 
 old woman of over seventy years could have with such 
 high and mighty people as governors and magistrates. 
 But Cipriana was apparently so thoroughly in earnest 
 about the journey and its consequences, that he could 
 not refuse to listen. 
 
 " It is a most important secret which I have to tell, 
 Father, and I must get to Murcia before a fortnight 
 is over, even if I walk the whole way," said the 
 old woman ; " for half Murcia will be destroyed if I 
 do not contrive some means of communicating with 
 the authorities,-not to speak of any reward to me." 
 
 " Could I write for you ?" inquired the old priest, 
 not unmindful of the possibility of some of the crumbs 
 of importance falling to his share. " Could I write to 
 the authorities for you, and spare you that long jour- 
 ney ? For you must remember that Murcia is far away, 
 and that we are neither of us as young as we were." 
 
 " That is true," murmured Cipriana, " but I must go 
 myself. No man in his senses would mind a warning 
 and threatening letter least of all the magistrate of a 
 large and flourishing city like Murcia. No, I must go 
 myself. I could tell him things that would make him 
 
 believe me and my secret, and besides " she said, 
 
 talking to herself, " the little dwarf said that I must go 
 myself, and that if it was successful " 
 
 " What little dwarf? Why was it to be successful ?" 
 cried the old priest, much alarmed for the mind of his 
 old parishioner, and wondering if she had sold herself 
 to the devil. Mechanically he made the sign of the 
 cross. Old Cipriana screamed and fell down in a fit, 

 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 19 
 
 and caused no small stir among the people of the village 
 as she was carried home on a litter. 
 
 A few nights after this, Ciprianawas lying in her 
 bed, with the brasier near her to keep her warm. She 
 was fretting over the fact that she should be lying there 
 tied by the leg and unable to perform the journey to 
 Murcia which was to make her fortune, when a little 
 voice said at her elbow : 
 
 " Good mother ! how soon do you think you shall 
 be well enough to go to Murcia ? because I have 
 money enough for you in this purse." 
 
 Cipriana had begun to expect the sudden appear- 
 ance of her little pigmy guest, and knowing that he 
 meant her well, notwithstanding his odd little ways, she 
 answered him quite calmly, without turning her head : 
 
 " As soon a's I am strong enough, my kind little 
 friend. I was very much disturbed and upset by my 
 priest's doubts ; such very grave ones were they, that he 
 had to invoke the dear Saviour 'and His Cross " (here 
 the little Fire Spirit turned as white as a sheet, and the 
 fire in the brasier nearly went out) " to keep me from 
 telling him what I would have given the world, the 
 flesh, and the devil to get rid of." 
 
 Here again the little guest turned pale, and the fire in 
 the brasier got very low. 
 
 "Good mother," said the pigmy, "would you mind 
 my looking about for sticks and matches ? I must 
 have food, for both I and the fire are getting very 
 faint." 
 
 " Oh dear no," cried the old dame. " You are a 
 most convenient and economical guest to feed. You 
 will find all you want in the cupboard to the left." 
 
 The little stranger helped himself to sticks and 
 matches, and performed the same holocaust as before, 
 but evidently enjoyed himself highly. 
 
 2 2
 
 20 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 At last he rose to go. Before he went, however, he 
 said: 
 
 " Cheer up, dear old woman. Here is the purse for 
 your journey. I shall put it under your pillow. Go as 
 soon as you please ; but the sooner you are able to go 
 the better. I am sure you will feel stronger soon ;" 
 and with the words he stretched himself out to the 
 height of her bed, and with his pigmy hand held hers 
 for a second or two and then disappeared. It was like 
 an electric shock to her. Her whole body seemed to 
 glow and strengthen. From that moment she began 
 to recover, and instead of being aged by her illness she 
 seemed younger and more active than ever. All the 
 neighbours remarked upon her renewed energy, and 
 said that some good news must have come to the poor 
 old dame to enliven her in that way. " But Cipriana 
 kept her own counsel, and in a few days disappeared 
 from the village entirely. 
 
 It was very cold weather, and the diligence was as 
 draughty and rickety a vehicle as could well be 
 imagined ; but Cipriana, in spite of her age and former 
 feebleness, was as sprightly as a lark. For had she 
 not a purse full of gold, and was she not treated in 
 consequence with the attention and courtesy due to a 
 princess ? She had never been treated so well in all 
 her life, nor had such good things to eat. Everyone 
 was kind and attentive to her comfort, and did all they 
 could to make her journey pleasant for her. 
 
 About half-way to Murcia the diligence stopped to 
 take in an exceedingly handsome young man, who sat 
 directly opposite to Cipriana. To her great surprise, 
 after examining his fellow-travellers, he bowed to her 
 and said, " Sefiora mia, we have had the pleasure of 
 meeting before," and immediately held out his hand 
 to her. She was much astonished, and said that the 

 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 21 
 
 " illustrious sefior must have made a mistake," but gave 
 him her hand with true Spanish courtesy, and added 
 that "she was very glad to see him in such good 
 health." But the moment he touched her hand she 
 felt the same delightfully warm glow that she had felt 
 when her pigmy friend had bade her good-bye. This 
 made her look at him keenly, but her opposite neigh- 
 bour seemed not to see her ; he only stared out of the 
 window at the dreary wastes of country through which 
 they were driving. 
 
 "I am a silly old woman," she thought to herself, 
 " to be always thinking of my little friend ; but he has 
 already made such a change in my life that I cannot 
 help it." 
 
 Just at this moment the young man looked round, 
 and their eyes met. 
 
 " I do not want you to forget your pigmy friend, 
 although sometimes you cannot recognise him," he said 
 in a low tone, which the rattling of the old diligence 
 prevented the other travellers from overhearing. 
 
 The colour rushed into the old woman's cheeks, and 
 she blushed like a young girl. Who was this man that 
 he should know her tiny friend ? She seemed to feel 
 that she was in the company of the devil, and held her 
 tongue during the remainder of the journey, resenting 
 all advances which the handsome young man made 
 towards her. 
 
 The friendliness of this distinguished-looking young 
 man towards the poor old woman sitting in the corner 
 of the diligence attracted the attention of their fellow- 
 travellers. What he could see in that commonly 
 dressed creature no one could imagine. Cipriana was 
 in her usual coarse peasant costume ; her hands were 
 hard and knotted with honest toil, while her features, 
 never at their best particularly good-looking, were
 
 22 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 furrowed and rugged, and seamed so as to be very un- 
 attractive. 
 
 At last the diligence stopped at the "posada," 
 where it usually put up in Murcia, and Cipriana got 
 down with the rest of the passengers and set out 
 hurriedly in search of the Mayor's house. Suddenly a 
 little voice said at her elbow, " Good mother, pray take 
 me up on your arm, for I am so tired ;" and turning 
 round, Cipriana saw her tiny friend, panting and 
 breathless with trying to keep up with her. She took 
 him in her arms and carried him like a doll. 
 
 " You are going to try and find out the Mayor, I 
 suppose," he said when he could speak. " Then turn 
 here to the right and then to the left, and the large 
 building directly opposite to you is the Mayor's house. 
 Now, as I have a little business first to attend to, I will 
 meet you there, if you will put me down." 
 
 Cipriana went on as she had been directed, and soon 
 found herself at the house. The guards were very 
 insolent to her when she asked to see his Worship, 
 and made great fun over the idea that such a queer- 
 looking old peasant-woman could have anything im- 
 portant to communicate to the Mayor of Murcia. 
 Cipriana tried to persuade them to let her pass by 
 every means in her power, and even went to the 
 length of bribing them ; but it was all of no use. 
 The guards were obdurate, and only laughed at her 
 the more for her pains. At last Cipriana was just 
 turning away, when she met her handsome friend 
 of the journey coming also to the same house. 
 The guards respectfully saluted him, and moved 
 aside to let him pass. But he stopped and said to 
 Cipriana : 
 
 " Aha, good mother, can I be of any use to you 
 here?"
 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 23 
 
 "Indeed you can, most noble caballero!" cried 
 Cipriana. " You can pass me in to see his honour the 
 Mayor, for I have something of the greatest import- 
 ance to tell him. Ah ! pray do not refuse me, senor, 
 now !" she cried in her despair. 
 
 " It would be hard to do so, even if I wished it," the 
 stranger replied, with a pleasant smile at Cipriana 
 which cheered her heart. " Let her pass," he said 
 carelessly to the guards, who immediately fell back, 
 and this strange couple passed in together. 
 
 In the company of the aristocratic-looking stranger 
 no one challenged Cipriana's right to be there, although 
 many looked curiously at her, and wondered in their 
 own minds what could have brought her there. She 
 observed with some pride that her friend had many 
 acquaintances, some of whom appeared pleased at his 
 notice. And she came to the conclusion that he must 
 be some one of great importance, and perhaps of high 
 rank. Even the Mayor apparently held him in much 
 esteem, for he received him cordially ; and after a few 
 minutes' conversation, he turned to Cipriana, and asked 
 her what he could do for her. 
 
 " To listen to me, most noble seilor, is the only thing 
 you can do for me. I am a poor old woman, and have 
 come all the way from Purullena to warn your worship 
 that in four or five days there will be a dreadful fire, 
 from the Calle de la Plateria to the Monte Agudo." 
 
 " And who put all that nonsense into your head, my 
 good old creature ?" inquired the Mayor, laughing. 
 " If you have nothing more important to say than that, 
 I must bid you good-day, for I have other things 
 to do " 
 
 "But indeed, indeed it is true!" cried poor 
 Cipriana. " I have a friend who knows what is going 
 on, and he told me to warn you."
 
 24 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 "Then you are oneof a gang of incendiaries, and must 
 be taken care of," replied the Mayor. Whereupon he 
 touched a bell, and the guard appeared ; he handed 
 the old woman over to him, to be conducted to prison. 
 "Watch her carefully, and see who her associates 
 are," he said to the guard. And in spite of her cries 
 and entreaties, both to the Mayor and the young 
 man, Cipriana was marched off to prison until some- 
 thing should be discovered. 
 
 The days passed drearily enough for the old woman 
 in her prison. She tried to say her prayers and tell her 
 beads, and thus while away some of the weary hours in 
 her dark cell. But, somehow, when she tried to say 
 an " Ave," she began to think of her little friend, and 
 to wonder where he could be. He had promised to 
 meet her at the Mayor's, and she had no doubt that 
 it was owing to his nonappearance that she had come 
 to grief in this way. She longed for a sight of the tiny 
 man, and had hardly shaped the thought than a little 
 voice said in her ear, " I am here, good mother, and 
 you will soon be rescued. The fire has begun, and his 
 Worship will soon send for you when he finds that 
 your prophecy has come true. He will also give you 
 a reward for your information, and you will then re- 
 turn home and remain there until you see me again. 
 But keep some of the money to pay for another journey 
 and a still longer one." With these words he disappeared, 
 and sure enough the very next day the Mayor sent 
 for Cipriana, and after telling her that she was a witch, 
 dismissed her with a reward of one thousand reales for 
 her information and efforts to save the city of Murcia. 
 
 Glad enough was Cipriana to find herself safe out 
 of Murcia, and jogging in the diligence on her way 
 home to Purullena. There she found her neighbours 
 much frightened at her absence, and spreading the 

 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 25 
 
 report that she was a witch and had dealings with the 
 evil one ; that she had been seen disappearing in a 
 flame of fire, and various equally startling stories. 
 These so-called friends were still more astonished 
 when Cipriana reappeared among them, looking 
 fresher, rosier and younger than they had ever seen 
 her. They gathered round her, and asked all about 
 her journey, where she had been and what she had 
 done ; but Cipriana had learned too bitter a lesson 
 from over-frankness to run her head again into danger, 
 and answered vaguely that a friend of hers had taken 
 her to Murcia to witness some important business ; and 
 that was all that they could get out of her. 
 
 Several months passed away without any further 
 communication from the little man. Cipriana hoped 
 and hoped and counted the days when he might be 
 expected, and at last began to despair of seeing him 
 any more. But one fine spring day he came and 
 perched on her distaff in the dusk of the evening, as 
 she was sitting outside her poor hut, thinking of him, 
 and wondering whether she should ever know exactly 
 who and what he was. 
 
 " There is some more work for you to do, good 
 mother," were his first words. He was paler than 
 formerly, and his clothes were of a less fiery colour than 
 of old. His face was flame-colour, although he had rather 
 a weary worn look. " I should have come some time 
 ago, but I have been very busy in other parts of the 
 world," he said. " The business in hand will now be 
 in Toledo. The great bridge there across the Tagus 
 is to be burnt down in three weeks, and you must 
 manage to get there and warn the King, who is staying 
 there for the present. I will meet you there ; for after 
 that you must go to Madrid. Perhaps you had better 
 leave Purullena for good and all, and go and live at
 
 26 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Madrid. You will be useful there, and there will be 
 a good deal of work off and on for you to do." Saying 
 which he disappeared, and Cipriana spent the rest of 
 her time in arranging the few things she had to take 
 with her. 
 
 She had had a hard life since her journey to Murcia, 
 for her neighbours one and all looked upon her as a 
 witch, and would hardly speak to her, nor let their 
 children play with her, and avoided her in every way. 
 She was therefore not at all sorry to leave her native 
 village and see the world, where she would not be taken 
 for a witch a simple old soul like her. So, early one 
 morning, she left for Toledo, taking her little bundle 
 in her hand, while her distaff and spindle were placed 
 in her petticoat-band. There she arrived one hot and 
 dusty evening, and went to stay with a friend who 
 lived near the Puerta del Cambron. 
 
 It so happened that the King was hearing cases of 
 complaint from his subjects at the time of Cipriana's 
 arrival, and gave audience to them ten days in each 
 month, administering justice where justice was due. 
 Cipriana therefore presented herself, and told the King 
 that on a certain day the great bridge of Toledo would 
 be burnt down. He listened with much patience to her 
 prophecy, and her assurance that she had come a long 
 way to warn him. When she had finished her story he 
 looked at her kindly, and said : 
 
 " From whom did you get this information, my 
 worthy soul ?" 
 
 Cipriana had had one lesson and punishment for 
 over-frankness, and was not going to be caught in that 
 net again. She therefore answered very demurely : 
 
 " I see visions, your Majesty, and they have never 
 failed. I prophesied that the whole eastern quarter 
 of Murcia would be burned on a certain day. But the 

 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 27 
 
 Mayor would not listen to me, and in consequence 
 the city was nearly all burned to ashes." 
 
 The King -looked thoughtful, and said : " I think 
 that you are imposing upon me ; but if, within the 
 time you name, the bridge takes fire, you shall be re- 
 paid for your trouble. I shall take every precaution 
 to keep it safe." 
 
 "As your Majesty pleases," said Cipriana, with quiet 
 dignity. " I am living near the Puerta del Cambron, 
 with my cousin Pedro Mino and his wife ; and they are 
 well known there, if your Majesty should wish to find 
 me." 
 
 The King acted upon Cipriana's warning, and placed 
 guards night and day to watch the bridge, and the 
 people who crossed over it. But everything went on 
 as quietly as usual, and very little fear was felt about 
 the fire that had been prophesied. The evening before 
 the eventful day, however, the guards were twiddling 
 their thumbs as usual, watching and cracking jokes 
 with the passers-by, when they saw a poor little 
 hunchbacked child step on the bridge, carrying a very 
 large bag and nearly crushed under the weight of it. 
 Every few minutes it would stop and put the bag down 
 panting, then take it up and stagger along again. One 
 of the guards, a young tender-hearted man, said, after 
 watching the child for a few minutes wrestling with his 
 burden : 
 
 " Let me help you across the bridge, my little man, 
 with that bag." 
 
 The little creature looked up gratefully in his face, 
 and without another word the guard slung the bag 
 across his shoulder, took the child in- his arms and 
 trudged across the bridge with him, utterly forgetting 
 his duty on the other side. 
 
 " What have you got in this bag that makes it so
 
 28 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 heavy, my little man ?" he said, when they were half- 
 way across. 
 
 " I am a conjurer," said the child, " and in the bag 
 are my implements for conjuring. I will show you a 
 few of my tricks in return for your kindness when we 
 get across." 
 
 " Gladly," answered the guard. 
 
 When they came to the end of the bridge, he ex- 
 plained to the other guard what the child was going 
 to do, and they made a little fun of him and had a 
 merry time, supposing that so small a child could do 
 but little in the way of conjuring. 
 
 To their astonishment he swallowed swords longer 
 than himself, told the men their fortunes and many 
 things which they had done which made their cheeks 
 red. He threw different-coloured balls in the air, and 
 caught them on his hump, and proved himself so mar- 
 vellously good a conjurer that he collected quite a crowd 
 around him ; and the guards forgot their duty, and stayed 
 looking at the little wizard, until night was almost 
 upon them. Suddenly the child grew smaller and 
 smaller, his cap and shoes were of flame colour, and 
 a red glow covered his small person all over. 
 
 " Get away to the end of the bridge, on dry ground," 
 the pigmy said to his friends the guards, "for I am 
 going to send off a red light, and it might explode and 
 injure you. I would not requite your kindness in that 
 way." 
 
 " But all fire and explosives are forbidden to-night," 
 cried the young guard, stepping forward to stop the 
 pigmy's hand. But he was too late. The red light had 
 gone to the centre of the bridge. The guards and the 
 bystanders ran for their lives to the solid ground, and to 
 their horror they found the child lost. But there was 
 a curious little flame-coloured pigmy dancing a fandango 

 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 29 
 
 in the flames. The next morning there was no vestige 
 of a bridge to be seen. It was burning the very day that 
 Cipriana had foretold. 
 
 The King sent for her, and gave her two thousand 
 reales for her information and efforts to save the bridge. 
 But he told her to leave Toledo within twenty-four 
 hours, or he would have her taken up for a witch. 
 
 The little dwarf appeared again, and told her to go 
 to Madrid, where there would be much work to be 
 done. She was to take a lodging in the Lavapies* 
 quarter, and there he would let her know how she was 
 to go on. Cipriana, obedient to orders, went as soon 
 as she could to Madrid. Her cousins bade her farewell 
 with all their hearts, for they looked upon her as a 
 witch, and were only too glad to get her out of the house. 
 For six months she lived in Madrid without any sign 
 or knowledge of her little friend. Meanwhile, in some 
 mysterious way, the news got abroad that she had 
 been the means of foretelling the fires in Murcia and 
 Toledo. The neighbours became suspicious of her, 
 and avoided her as much as they could, and she was 
 quite conscious of their dislike. It made her a little 
 unhappy, but she comforted herself with the thought 
 that in foretelling evil she was really doing good to 
 society at large, if she could only induce people to 
 believe that what she said was true. Her little friend 
 appeared about this time, and helped her to be more 
 contented. For he had much work for her to do, and 
 she was constantly in and out of the palace, foretelling 
 fires, for which she was as constantly rewarded. 
 
 But after living two years in Madrid, Cipriana gave 
 
 notice of a fire in the Lavapies quarter where she lived. 
 
 Everything that she had hitherto predicted had come 
 
 true, and great had been the destruction in the city. 
 
 * Lavapies, a well-known poor quarter in Madrid.
 
 30 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 In the two years that she had been in Madrid the 
 rumour of her being a witch had spread rapidly through 
 the city ; and she was as nearly isolated as a human 
 being could be without being a hermit, and living in a 
 cave. But nobody believed, in spite of the truth of her 
 former assertions, that this fire was to take place in the 
 Lavapies quarter. It was so poor, and so many miser- 
 able beings lived there, that no one dreamed that such 
 a thing could happen without real malice. But it did 
 break out on the day that Cipriana had foretold, and 
 all Madrid had now kept itself informed as to her 
 forebodings and prophecies, so that she was quite a 
 famous person. 
 
 The wrath of the populace was so great, and the 
 priests were so malicious against Cipriana for her 
 various shortcomings as regarded Mother Church (and 
 they were as influential as they were malicious), that 
 Cipriana soon found herself in a deep dark cell in the 
 common prison. There she remained for a whole year, 
 being taken out occasionally to be tortured as a witch, 
 in order to confess who were her accomplices in the 
 incendiary work which had been going on all over the 
 country. As she had no accomplice but the little 
 pigmy, she had nothing to confess ; and after several 
 torturings in a dungeon set apart for that purpose, she 
 was formally tried and condemned to the stake. 
 
 Her little friend had quite deserted her in her need ; 
 and the days wore away, bringing her nearer and nearer 
 to the fatal morning, and still no help came to her. She 
 was very old, and her strength was but scanty. The 
 very thought of the stake made her flesh creep when- 
 ever she remembered her impending fate ; and she 
 prayed fervently to be allowed to die quietly in her 
 cell before her torture came. But it was not to be. 
 The fatal day came, and rose bright and beautiful. She
 
 THE FIRE SPIRIT. 31 
 
 was to be burnt in the great public plaza of the city at 
 noon. She was arrayed in the usual yellow garments, 
 painted all over with devils and tongues of flame, and 
 escorted by a long procession of priests, acolytes, and 
 soldiers. When she arrived at the stake she was once 
 more exhorted by her confessor to save her life by 
 revealing the names of her confederates, and repent of 
 her evil ways. As she had no confederates excepting 
 her pigmy friend, she could confess nothing ; and, poor 
 soul, she was in spirit as devout a Catholic as any of 
 the crowds who came to see her die, and this she 
 maintained with her last breath. 
 
 She was given over to the executioners and bound to 
 the stake ; the faggots were lighted, and pitch flung on 
 to make them burn, "a sweet, holy, savoury offering to 
 the Virgin," as the priests said. Cipriana shrieked 
 with agony and fear, till she heard a small voice say in 
 her ear, " Don't be afraid ; I will see that you do not 
 suffer pain ; and she saw her little friend dancing 
 about in the flames, where he seemed to be enjoying 
 himself not a little. He had a large burning faggot in 
 his hand, which he suddenly blew out and applied to 
 Cipriana's nose. In an instant she was beyond pain, 
 stifled by the bane, as well as the fortune-maker of her 
 life, the Fire Spirit.
 
 III. 
 
 THE WALLED NUN OF A VILA. 
 
 SITTING on the wall of the citadel at San Sebastiano 
 on a balmy July day, and idly throwing pebbles into 
 the sea below, I heard this story for the first time. I 
 wish I could give the sound of the sweet voice, and the 
 choice, delightful Spanish of the white-haired, dark- 
 eyed, sparkling little lady who related it ; but as that 
 is impossible, I am content to recall her personality as 
 a pleasant memory of some very happy days. 
 
 " Avila is one of the prettiest cities in Spain. After 
 the long diligence drive (I am speaking of many years 
 ago, before railroads were thought of) over dreary 
 wastes, with hardly a tree to break the monotony of the 
 road and relieve the bleak grey of the mountains, you 
 pass over the Puerto ; and the pleasantest, sweetest 
 of plains opens before you so unexpectedly that for a 
 moment you believe yourself in Paradise. 
 
 " The lines of walls and towers of the little mountain 
 city have an imposing effect as you approach them, and 
 remind you of the old pictures of feudal cities, with 
 their castellated fortifications. But the streets inside, 
 though very picturesque, are narrow and gloomy. 
 
 " Soon after I became a widow, I went to stay 
 with some intimate friends, who had taken a fine old 
 house at a few miles' distance from Avila, on the 
 road to Madrid. It had been a convent in the old 

 
 THE WALLED NUN OF A VILA. 33 
 
 days ; but when the convents were suppressed in 
 Castile and in the more northern provinces, the build- 
 ing was bought by a wealthy Spaniard. He furnished 
 it with great care and in good taste, and my friends 
 were lucky enough to secure it on a long lease. It 
 had been empty for a long time, and there were vague 
 reports floating about the neighbourhood that it was 
 haunted, and that nobody could be induced to live 
 in it. But my friends were singularly unsuperstitious 
 for Spaniards ; and having brought their servants with 
 them from another part of Spain, where they could 
 have heard nothing of the legend of the house, they 
 remained there quite contented and happy for many 
 months without any disturbance. 
 
 " The house itself was a delightful one. All the 
 interior had been altered excepting the long stone 
 corridors ; the cells had been thrown into each other 
 and made into large rooms, full of sunshine and com- 
 fort. From the upper floor (there were only two) 
 there was a charming little stone staircase, which 
 communicated with the cloisters. The pillars of these 
 cloisters were beautifully carved, and enclosed a pretty, 
 dainty garden full of flowers and vines, which climbed 
 up over half the house. Behind the cloisters were the 
 vineyards and kitchen garden. It was a scene for 
 fairyland, when on a moonlight night great patches of 
 white light were thrown upon the pavement of the 
 cloisters, and a dim haze filled the garden and made 
 the splash of the tiny fountain doubly pleasant and 
 dreamy. At the end of the upper corridor, opposite to 
 the little stone staircase, was a projection in the wall 
 which attracted my attention, for the rest of the 
 passage was quite even ; and I remarked upon it to 
 my friend, who was showing me about the house. 
 
 " She changed colour a little, and said rather hastily, 
 
 3
 
 34 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 1 Oh yes ; there are many queer things about the 
 house,' and deliberately turned the conversation into 
 other channels. My room was nearer the stone stair- 
 case than the projection in the wall. Although I 
 thought my hostess's manner a little singular at the 
 time, I soon forgot all about it. 
 
 " There is a superstition among some Spaniards that 
 persons who have not received Christian burial are 
 permitted to walk among their old haunts twice in the 
 year at Easter, when our Lord rose from the dead 
 and liberated all mankind, and at the * noche de los 
 difuntos ' (All-Hallow E'en). It was about the end of 
 Lent that I went to stay with my friends ; and at 
 midnight I used to be waked up by hearing a footstep 
 gently echoing through the stone corridor, which ap- 
 parently descended the staircase, for it never returned. 
 Night after night I lay awake, listening for the sound 
 which I felt sure would come, and night after night 
 the same soft slow footstep passed my door on its way 
 to the staircase which led to the cloisters. 
 
 " At last one night I had the curiosity to open my 
 door very softly and look down the corridor. It was a 
 lovely night, and the moonlight was streaming full in 
 at the window. There was nothing to be seen. Not 
 a human being was about, and yet I could hear the 
 footsteps going down into the cloisters step by step, 
 bringing the two feet together on the same step before 
 going to another, as children do. I thought to myself 
 as I went back to my room that the person had escaped 
 me this time, but that I would be quicker another 
 night. For two or three nights after this, when I 
 heard the footstep coming along at the other end of 
 the passage, I opened my door and waited to see the 
 person pass. I could see nothing, but I could hear 
 the soft, slow footstep pass me not one whit quicker or 

 
 THE WALLED NUN OF A VILA. 35 
 
 slower than before, while a cold wind blew in my face, 
 and the step sounded further on and descended the 
 stairs into the cloisters. 
 
 " At last I could not resist speaking to my friends 
 about these curious sounds. They both turned pale 
 when I told them that I had followed the step, and 
 they begged me to do nothing rash, lest I should come 
 to harm. 
 
 " ' You will hear stranger sounds still,' they both said, 
 ' but you must pay no attention to them. We have 
 got used to them, and the servants sleep quite apart 
 from this end of the house, so that they hear nothing. 
 Pray do not let them suspect that there is anything 
 wrong with the house. But there is, and that is all we 
 know.' 
 
 " I saw that it made my good friends uneasy,- not to 
 say unhappy, to speak upon the subject ; so I held my 
 tongue, and asked no more questions, but determined 
 to find out what was the matter for myself, by hook or 
 by crook. I had always been told that I was remark- 
 able for my courage in danger, and I said to myself, 
 * A ghost can do me no harm, for my conscience is 
 clear of intentional sin.' 
 
 "A little before the ' Semana Santa ' (Holy Week) 
 the priest from Avila came out to bless the house, as is 
 the custom among us. The servants and all of us were 
 assembled in the lower hall to be sprinkled and blessed, 
 and Don Ramon (my friend) accompanied the priest 
 and the acolyte over the other parts of the house. He 
 proposed that I should remain below with the rest of 
 the family, but I refused to do so, and went everywhere 
 with them. As we went along the upper corridor, the 
 priest sprinkled the walls here and there, muttering the 
 prayers of blessing, and as he passed the projection in 
 the wall some holy water fell from the brush upon it. 
 
 32
 
 36 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 In an instant the house rang and rang again with 
 piercing shrieks, and then we heard heavy moans and 
 groans. The acolyte and our host ran away, and the 
 priest and I were left looking at each other with pallid 
 faces and trembling limbs. I then told* the priest what 
 I had heard during my stay the footsteps, and the un- 
 willingness of my friends to talk of the sounds about 
 the house. 
 
 " ' Some poor soul must have been murdered here, 
 and has not had Christian burial,' he said ; ' but find 
 out all you can while you stay, and let me know the 
 result, my daughter.' This I promised to do. 
 
 " We waited until the groans had ceased, and then 
 descended to the lower hall. Not a word was said 
 about what had happened, and the priest took his 
 leave. 
 
 " On Easter Sunday my friends said to me, when 
 we parted for the night, ' If you hear strange sounds 
 to-night, mind and keep in your room quietly. Don't 
 on any account leave it, or some harm may befall 
 you.' 
 
 " ' Nothing can hurt me,' I said, ' and I mean to see 
 what this ghost is like.' 
 
 " They entreated me to do nothing so rash ; but at 
 last, seeing that I was quite determined, they said that 
 they would watch with me. We talked and chatted 
 about other matters till after midnight, and I began 
 to think that perhaps we were fools for our pains, when 
 we heard the sound of falling bricks and stones and 
 mortar at the other end of the passage, where the 
 projection was. I rushed out, followed by my friends. 
 The moonlight was streaming in. The projection was 
 still walled up, and we still heard the same sounds, 
 while between us and the stone stairway stood a tall, 
 slight figure dressed like a nun. From her side hung
 
 THE WALLED NUN OF A VILA. 37 
 
 a large silver crucifix, and her garb showed her to be 
 of the Dominican order. For a minute she stood with 
 her back towards us, and then slowly descended the 
 staircase to the cloisters, with the same soft slow step 
 that I knew so well. 
 
 "We followed her to the stairs, and heard the same 
 slow steps pacing up and down, up and down, but we 
 could see nothing, excepting that every now and then 
 a dark shadow was thrown across the patches of moon- 
 light in the direction of the steps. 
 
 " We listened for an hour or more to the footsteps, 
 when suddenly they ceased, and we heard the sounds 
 of bricklaying going on at the projection in the wall, 
 voices and laughing, cries of anguish and weeping. 
 At dawn all was still and quiet enough, and we re- 
 turned to our rooms with white faces and quaking 
 knees. 
 
 " ' What awful sin can have been committed here ?' 
 I said, ' to cause this poor ghost such mortal 
 agony ?' 
 
 " My friends were quite as much perplexed and anxious 
 as I, to know the secret of the house ; but at that time 
 the owner was away from home, and the reports of the 
 people in the neighbourhood were so contradictory and 
 absurd that no faith could be "placed in them at all. 
 We were therefore obliged to possess our souls in 
 patience. But the days slipped away ; my visit came 
 to an end, and nothing more had occurred since that 
 Easter night to alarm us. That eternal footstep con- 
 tinued, however, and as usual never returned. 
 
 " A year passed away before I heard anything more 
 of the nun. Occasionally I received letters from my 
 friends, but no reference was ever made to that fearful 
 night, or what we had seen and heard. 
 
 " Just after Easter I got a long letter from my friend,
 
 38 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 in which she said, ' The ghost has begun to walk again. 
 We had hoped, as we had heard nothing particular 
 since you were with us, excepting the footsteps, that 
 perhaps she was quiet and at peace for ever. But last 
 Sunday the whole household was roused by shrieks 
 and cries, lamentations and weeping, sounds of masonry 
 and trowels, bricks falling and being replaced. We 
 rushed to the spot, servants and all, and saw the nun 
 in the corridor, pacing slowly towards the staircase, 
 wringing her hands as though in terrible agony of 
 mind. These sounds continued till dawn. The ser- 
 vants are paralyzed with fear, and go creeping round 
 the house in couples, afraid to breathe. We sent for 
 the proprietor, and asked him to tell us the true story 
 of the house, and here it is. It seems that one of the 
 younger nuns who lived here when it was a convent 
 was unfaithful to her vows, and was discovered. 
 There was a convocation of the Order to which she 
 belonged, and the conference lasted fifteen days. She 
 was tried and convicted, and she and her lover were 
 condemned to be walled up alive. In some way or 
 other she contrived to warn her lover of his impend- 
 ing fate, and he escaped. But she, poor creature, suf- 
 fered this dreadful death, and was walled up inside the 
 projection at the end of the corridor. The proprietor 
 has granted us permission to pull down the projection 
 and see if any nun is to be found there, and in that case 
 give her remains Christian burial, and thus let the poor 
 creature rest at last. If you would like to come and 
 see the end of the ghost which you discovered here a 
 year ago, we shall be only too glad to have you with us 
 at the time.' 
 
 " You may imagine that my curiosity was so tho- 
 roughly aroused that I was only too pleased to go, and 
 that I travelled to Avila as soon as possible after the 

 
 THE WALLED NUN OF A VILA. 39 
 
 receipt of my friend's letter. The news that the pro- 
 jection in the old convent was to be pulled down soon 
 got bruited abroad, and people came from far and near 
 to see what happened. 
 
 "The Bishop and two of the higher ecclesiastics came 
 out from Avila to perform the ceremony of burial, with 
 the attendant priests and acolytes. 
 
 "The masons began their work, and a dead silence 
 fell upon us all. My friends stood next to me. The 
 servants shivered and shook behind us, and as the bricks 
 fell down one after another we turned and whispered to 
 each other, ' That sound we have heard before.' 
 
 " The projection was six bricks deep, and cemented 
 very firmly. It required much patience and strength 
 to remove them, and the masons at last were tired 
 out, and began to say that there was nothing there, 
 and that we must be fools (' locos ') to think so. 
 
 "'What is that white thing hanging behind the next 
 line of bricks ?' I asked, as they were preparing to close 
 up the place again. The masons very reluctantly undid 
 one more row of bricks, and there, standing in her open 
 coffin, was the nun, dressed just as we had seen her 
 that night black veil, silver crucifix and all, as per- 
 fectly preserved as though she had been embalmed. 
 Her features were distorted by a look of horror and 
 fright, and we all shuddered as we looked and realized 
 what dreadful punishments Mother Church could in- 
 flict. 
 
 " The Service for the Dead commenced, and when the 
 benediction was said over the remains of the poor 
 young creature, who had erred so much and been 
 punished so terribly, a deep sigh of contentment was 
 heard to come from the coffin, and the agony of the 
 face changed to a sweet, happy look. The coffin was 
 removed from the niche, and no sooner had the outer
 
 40 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 air touched the body, than the remains crumbled into 
 dust. 
 
 " We buried her in consecrated ground, and since 
 that time all strange sounds have ceased in the old 
 house, and the walled nun of Avila at last rests in 
 peace."
 
 IV. 
 
 THE FISHERMAN. 
 
 ON the French side of the Pyrenees, but not very far 
 ' from the border of Spain, -is trie little fishing village of 
 Ciboure,-and across the bridge stands the larger one 
 (of St. Jean de Luz.) This/ Matter village or town is 
 famous for possessing^ the 'house where Louis XIV. 
 lived while he was waiting to marry the Infanta of 
 Spain, and that in which the Infanta was herself lodged. J 
 The latter is a curious squareCred-brickj building, of 
 four stories, looking on to the public square,( and 
 nearly opposite the house where her future lord lived.) 
 It has such an antiquated, tumbledown, picturesque 
 look that the eye is attracted to it almost at once ; 
 and not until you have had a good look at it, and 
 perhaps a little chat about it with some of the men 
 who are always loitering in the vicinity, can you tear 
 yourself away to see the rest of the quaint, ojd-fasjiionecl^, 
 town (of St. Jean de Luz.) Behind the(Maison de 
 1'Infante (as it is called)'', stretches the Bay (of Biscay,) 
 blue and smiling in the sunshine, or covered with white 
 crests, or churned into high waves of white -foam by 
 the least storm. Of course (the Maison de PInfante,; 
 like all old houses, is supposed to be haunted. 
 
 For a long time it had such a bad name that hardly 
 anyone ventured to live in it. But at last an( English V 
 family led the way, and took an apartment in the
 
 42 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 dilapidated old house, fast going to ruin for want of 
 care and supervision, and infested by rats. Even then 
 it was difficult to get servants to stay, and a constant 
 change in the household was the result. There were 
 rustlings of silk dresses heard in the passages, varied 
 by the clanking of swords, which seemed to drag and 
 touch every stair as their masters descended. In vain 
 did the mistress explain that the sounds proceeded 
 from the chinks and cracks with which the house 
 abounded, and through which the wind whistled at 
 every opportunity. It was nothing but the wind, she 
 said. But the servants could not be persuaded to 
 believe it. Was it the wind, they demanded indignantly, 
 that puffed into their faces for a second with an icy 
 blast when they were in a sheltered nook on the stairs, 
 and which blew their candles out with no warning what- 
 ever ? The wind, indeed ! It was no such thing ! It 
 was the ghosts of the long-dead ladies-in-waiting to the 
 Infanta who blew the candle out from sheer devilry, 
 and gave them, the servants, a cold, shivery, creepy 
 feeling as they passed up and down the stairs. The 
 English family who lived on the second floor cared but 
 little for the chatter and superstitions of their foreign 
 servants and neighbours. A family from California 
 named Hendrick took the third floor for a year. These 
 were the only two families in the house. 
 
 One evening the Californians gave a small dinner- 
 party, and some ten or twelve guests were invited. The 
 lower floor was uninhabited, and the stairs were of 
 course very dark. One of the guests invited to the 
 Hendricks' dinner was Madame de Margot, a widow 
 lady visitingv St. Jean de Luz^for the summer. She 
 groped her way up the stairs successfully, with no lamp 
 or light to guide her, until she came to the second floor. 
 Here there was a dim lantern hanging at the corner of 

 
 THE FISHERMAN. 43 
 
 the corridor, and casting only a feeble glimmer on the 
 staircase, which wound and turned in rather a cork- 
 screw fashion on that story. In the wide corner she 
 met a lady coming down, who apparently was waiting 
 to give her a chance to pass, and stood in the round 
 of the staircase to make room for her. Madame 
 de Margot glanced at the lady as she went upstairs, 
 and bowed her acknowledgment of the courtesy. But 
 she could not help taking a second good long look at 
 her polite friend, who was dressed in so old-fashioned 
 a way that she seemed to belong to, a. period long past, 
 and to have stepped out of a French picture of the 
 seventeenth century. At first she thought that the un- 
 known lady friend was going to^ a fancy ball ; for she 
 was dressed in a quaint Pompadour costume of lavender 
 and blue, and her hair was turned, over a cushion and 
 powdered. Her hands were white and small, and the 
 lace on her bosom and sleeves was exquisitely fine and 
 rare. A curious scarlet cloak of fine cloth hung round 
 her shoulders, and was fastened by a ribbon round the 
 neck. The lady was holding her cloak open, and her 
 arms and neck were quite visible, while her pretty 
 hands held the two sides of the cloak far apart, as if 
 she were trying to avoid contact with Madame de 
 Margot. All this Madame de Margot saw as she 
 quietly looked at her, while she toiled slowly and 
 breathlessly up the stairs and passed her. 
 
 The apartment of the Hendricks was prettily 
 arranged, and at first there were many rare and 
 charming objects which attracted the eye of Madame 
 de Margot. Then the other guests began to arrive ; and 
 it was not till she was seated next the host at dinner 
 that she remembered her meeting on the staircase. , 
 
 " Is there a fancy ball going on in St. Jean de Luz 
 to-night ?" she inquired of Mr. Hendrick.
 
 44 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " Not that I know of," he replied, looking rather 
 astonished. " There are very few gaieties in this quiet 
 place ; and I think the whole town would be shaken to 
 the foundations by anything so exciting as a fancy 
 ball. Why? Did you see anything going on as 
 you came here which looked like one ?" he added, 
 laughing. 
 
 Madame de Margot looked very grave as she 
 answered : 
 
 /"VU ' fV \] 
 
 " I met a curiously attired lady on the stairs, who 
 made me think di a fancy ball because she was dressed 
 in the costume of Louis XIV. 's time " 
 
 It was now her host's turn to look grave. He 
 became as pale as a ghost, pushed away his plate of 
 soup untasted, and glancing hurriedly around him, he 
 said in a whisper : 
 
 " Dear madam, do not please breathe what you have 
 told me to any one of the guests, nor to my wife. To- 
 morrow I will tell you the whole story ;" and with that 
 Madame de Margot had to be contented. 
 
 The evening passed ; the dinner was good, and the 
 guests were pleasant, but she noticed that Mr. Hend- 
 rick was very uneasy, and wondered what had 
 troubled him. At last the time came for the guests to 
 say good-night. Madame de Margot departed with 
 her maid, who had taken the precaution to bring a 
 lantern. It was very acceptable, and Madame de 
 Margot thanked her for her thoughtfulness. 
 
 " Don't say anything about it, madame," whispered 
 the girl, in a trembling voice. " I will tell you what I 
 have seen when we reach home, if we ever do. The 
 holy Mother protect us !" 
 
 " What do you mean ?" cried Madame de Margot. 
 
 But the maid only set her teeth hard, and hurried 
 her mistress home as fast as she could through the
 
 THE FISHERMAN. 45 
 
 IL ?1>8LO 
 
 narrow, quaint, unevenly paved streets of St. Jean 
 de Luz. 
 
 " Madame must have thought me rude to-night," 
 Therese said, as she undressed her mistress. 
 
 " Well, I must confess that you were not polite," re- 
 turned Madame de Margot. " What was the matter 
 with you ?" 
 
 " Oh, madame, you do not know the JK5rrors of that 
 house ! I have heard much about that Maison de 
 1'Infante, but I have always laughed. To-night I 
 SAW !" 
 
 " And what did you see?" cried her mistress, turning 
 suddenly round upon the girl as she was brushing her 
 hair " and what did you see ?" 
 
 " Old Pierre the waiter was telling me what a dread- 
 ful house it is to live. in, and what awful sounds you 
 hear there in the dead of night such tramping up and 
 down stairs, such a rustling of silk dresses ; and some- 
 times they see a young lady." 
 
 " What kind of a young lady ?" cried her mistress, in 
 terror. 
 
 " I listened for some time, madame, and I distinctly 
 heard the rustling of a dress and then a light footstep 
 on the stairs while I was waiting for you, madame ; and 
 I asked Pierre what it was. That was how he came to 
 tell me all this. When I asked him what the noise 
 was, he said, ' Come and see.' So I went to the head 
 of the stairs, and there was a young lady in a red cloak 
 walking up and down, up and down in the corridor 
 below, every now and then stopping to listen. Her 
 dress was so old-fashioned, too, madame ; and she 
 wore her hair powdered and raised high over a 
 cushion, with a blue bow tied over it. It made me 
 so cold and creepy to watch her gliding along that I 
 began to feel faint, and Pierre had to give me some
 
 46 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 cognac. But he told me such dreadful stories about 
 
 the house." ~$ffft 
 
 Madame de Margot's curiosity was now fully aroused, 
 and she begged Therese to tell her the story about the 
 house. 
 
 " Indeed, I ^would gladly know it myself," replied 
 Therese. " Pierre did not know the real story of the 
 house, and though he told me many horrors, he could 
 not tell me what haunts the house, nor why it does." 
 
 So Madame de Margot had to possess her soul in 
 patience, until she met her host, Mr. Hendrick, on the 
 square the next evening. She immediately took him 
 aside and claimed his promise to tell her the story of 
 the curious lady whom she had met on the stairs. 
 
 " Even my maid Therese knows that there is a legend 
 attached to the house ; but she cannot tell me what it 
 is, and my patience has been fearfully tried," she 
 said. 
 
 " Well," replied her host, "I suppose I must tell you 
 what I have been told, although, mind, madame, I do 
 not vouch for the truth of it. The story goes, madame, 
 that in the Grand Monarque's time, when he married 
 the Infanta of Spain, one of the maids of honour to the 
 Infanta, who was to accompany her Majesty to Paris, 
 died very suddenly, and people said that she had been 
 poisoned. They said she was too great a favourite at 
 the court, and many jealousies arose on her account. 
 At any rate she died very suddenly, just as she had 
 dressed to go to a ball. They say that her ghost 
 wanders about disconsolately in search of her mis- 
 tress, or of some familiar face which she knew in the 
 old days. Twice a year she has been seen outside the 
 house : on the Eve of St. Jean and the ' night of the 
 dead.' Then woe betide the fisherman who takes her 
 in his boat !"
 
 
 THE FISHERMAN. 47 
 
 " What happens to him ?" cried Madame de Margot, 
 now thoroughly interested and startled. 
 
 "Eh, madainer cried Mr. Hendrick ; , l< what 
 happens to him no one has found out. Joseph Bor- 
 thery and the others never returned to tell." 
 
 " Who was Joseph Borthery ?" inquired Madame de 
 Margot. 
 
 "Joseph Borthery was the brother-in-law of your 
 landlady, and was as true and honest a man as ever 
 trod the earth. He had a wife and two or three 
 children, and he gained his livelihood as a fisherman. 
 He was generally very fortunate in his hauls of fish, 
 and managed to dispose of them to the best possible 
 advantage. Everyone liked him, everyone respected 
 him, and he had not a single enemy. His one fault 
 was a love of making money a very pardonable fault, 
 when you consider that his wife and children were the 
 one thought of his life, and their comfort his one 
 desire. 
 
 " On the Eve of St. Jean he went out fishing, and 
 was as happy as a man could be. He had been about 
 watching the, puttjngj-up of the crosses of flowers all 
 over St. JeafTTHe TLuz and Ciboure, the neighbouring 
 fishing villa.ge where he lived, and at eleven o'clock 
 prepared himself for his night's work. His wife 
 was comfortably in bed, and his children asleep ; 
 so his mind was easy about them. The night was a 
 lov.ejy^o.ne^, The moonbeams dance^, mgrrily^ver the ^ ^ 
 Bay of Biscay and lit up the Tower of Ste^ Barbe, on 
 the hill beyond and behind St. Jean. They made great 
 white patches on the grass near by, and the sands on 
 the beach shone like gold. 
 
 " The scene around him was peaceful. His boat was 
 filled with tackle, bait, fishing materials, and a coloured 
 sail. And Joseph Borthery was just placing the oars
 
 48 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 T Jl U- iNfftMTtS 
 
 in the rowlocks, when he saw a lady on the shore at the 
 back of the Maison de ITnfante, beckoning to him. 
 But he paid no attention to the signs she made. He 
 had no time to lose in carrying ladies about, if he 
 cared to do any fishing for his family. It was late 
 already, and if he cared to have a successful night of 
 fish, and of consequent gain, he could not afford to 
 waste a single moment. The appearance of the lady 
 was charming. The moon shone down on the pow- 
 dered hair, on the blue bow, the scarlet cloak, the 
 fair jewelled neck, and the mittened white arms. He 
 could hardly bear to refuse her, as she folded her hands 
 beseeching him to take her. But he thought steadily 
 of his wife and family ; of the fete next day, when 
 according to his profits would be the limit of their 
 pleasure, and pulled strongly out into the bay. When 
 at a safe distance from the shore he made the sign 
 of the cross, and turned to see which way he was going, 
 and when he again bent to his oars and looked at the 
 shore, the fair lady had disappeared. His haul of fish 
 was an enormous one, larger than he had ever had, and 
 he returned to his family with much money in his 
 pockets; for he sold all his fish at the market before., 
 going home, and had nothing to do on the fete of 
 St. Jean but to amuse himself and his family. 
 
 " He told the story of what he had seen to his wife. 
 She turned pale as she heard him. 
 
 "'Oh, Joseph!' she cried, 'never listen to her; she 
 is a ghost, and lures people on to evil. Promise me 
 that you will never listen to her !' Q [ )fl-<*>** 
 
 " ' I won't if I can help it, ma chere,' answered 
 Joseph cautiously. ' If you could see her you would 
 find it hard to refuse her. And as to ghosts, I don't 
 believe in them, and never shall.' 
 
 " ' Eh ! don't boast,' interrupted his wife ; ' ghosts 

 
 THE FISHERMAN. 49 
 
 may exist without your believing in them, Joseph. 
 You are as simple as daylight, and anyone might 
 deceive you, for you would walk into the snare like 
 a blind puppy.' 
 
 "Joseph saw no more fair ladies for some months. 
 Fie went to his fishing regularly, and was fortunate in 
 the hauls he brought back. At last, as the summer 
 turned to autumn and the autumn changed to winter, 
 he had almost forgotten his adventure. 
 
 " On the 'night of the dead' he went out as usual late 
 at night to fish. And there also was the same lady, 
 with the red cloak, bare arms and jewelled neck, stand- 
 ing on the shore and entreating him to take her. But 
 he was steeled against her blandishments, and thought 
 of his wife and children. At last, in despair, the lady 
 held up a purse, weighted apparently with gold. In 
 the dim moonlight Joseph could see that it was not 
 a large one, but that it glittered as though knitted 
 with gold, and the clasp certainly was of gold. 
 He resisted the temptation to go back for some 
 time, but the purse was more than his determination 
 was equal to, and the thought came to him that the 
 contents of the purse would add greatly to the comfort 
 and support of his family (and all merely for taking a 
 lady to Ste. Barbe). His heart relented, and he re- 
 turned to the shore, took the lady on board, and rowed 
 as hard as he could to Ste. Barbe. His heart felt 
 heavy and cold when he offered to help the strange 
 lady into his boat. He really tried to assist her, but 
 she seemed to glide into the boat, and the hand which 
 she held out to him was cold and helpless. Apparently, 
 however, she needed no support from him. He was 
 seen to row in the direction of Ste. Barbe, and to turn 
 round the corner into the wide Bay of Biscay. But he 
 was never seen again. 
 
 4
 
 50 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " For weeks and months his wife Elise watched for 
 Joseph, putting a light in the window where he could 
 see it on his way across the Bay, but Joseph Borthery 
 never returned to his home or to St. Jean de Luz. 
 
 " That is the legend, dear madam," said Mr. Hen- 
 drick, "as it was told to me, of the old Maison de 
 1' Infante. You evidently met the lady on your way to 
 us the other evening ; and your description of her made 
 me willing to believe that there are more things in 
 heaven and earth than we yet know of."
 
 V. 
 
 THE PETRIFIED MAN* 
 
 !N the days of Alfonso the Avenger, who succeeded his 
 father Ferdinand I\Othere were beautiful large tracts 
 of land on the sides of the hills (jiear Daroca,i which 
 were let out in small vineyards to the poorer wine- 
 growers. They were all remarkable for the heavy 
 bunches of grapes which they produced, and for the 
 excellent wine which was made upon them; and the 
 fame of these vineyards spread far and wide. Every 
 peasant who had a bit of money was anxious to hire 
 and farm a piece of them, were it ever so small ; and 
 many were the disappointed ones whose hearts burned 
 with unsatisfied longing for those (TDaroca: vineyards. 
 
 They lay upon the side of the hill exposed to the 
 southern sun ; the rich red earth was covered with 
 sticks, from which the vines hung in beautiful green 
 garlands, and the vintage-time was looked forward to 
 with the greatest delight by the farm servants and by 
 the helpers who were engaged for the occasion, when 
 there was a very good season and a great quantity of 
 grapes. 
 
 One of the fortunate beings who possessed two of 
 these vineyards was a certain Mateo Blanco. He was 
 
 * The outline of this legend is mentioned by Ford. The name 
 is given there of Pedro Bisagra, but I give the name that was told 
 to me, Mateo Blanco. This is a popular legend, and well known 
 to most peasants in Spain. 
 
 42
 
 52 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 a shrewd, longheaded, calculating peasant, who knew 
 how to turn his money to account, and his sister, who 
 lived with him, knew how to make wo pesetas go 
 further than other people's duros. Together they 
 scraped, and pinched, and struggled, and saved until 
 they became very wealthy people in the neighbourhood. 
 The vineyards had two or three very productive years ; 
 this added still more to their income, and with the in- 
 crease of their fortunes increased also their pride and 
 their stinginess. They had never in their lives helped 
 anyone but themselves. Even their own servants and 
 farm dependents were treated like dogs and /ed like 
 
 T-U 1 0<A-V3, 
 
 pigs. 1 hey were never known to give a copper to a 
 poor starving creature, nor a crust of bread to any 
 human being. They always had plenty of work to give 
 during the vintage, but they preferred to slave their 
 own servants nearly to death rather than take on new 
 hands. Their fame spread through the country all 
 around. Those ready for hire knew that there was no 
 chance of employment at Mateo's, and consequently 
 never tried for it, but got employment elsewhere. In 
 time, however, Mateo and his sister became so crusty 
 and stingy that even their own servants, accustomed to 
 hard treatment, complained. One by one they left, 
 until there was no one to till the ground, or attend to 
 the vineyards, or look after the farm. Mateo and his 
 sister tried to do the work themselves, but they found 
 that this was a very different thing from ordering 
 others to do it. Naturally the vines suffered in con- 
 sequence, and yielded but little in comparison with 
 other years, although it was an overflowing vintage. 
 
 This went on for two or three years, and then the 
 sister died from overwork. This was a great blow to 
 Mateo, for she was of a far more energetic nature than 
 he, and had kept up her activity almost to the last, so
 
 THE PETRIFIED MAN. 53 
 
 that he had hardly noticed that she was ill until he lost 
 her entirely. He had thought her thinner at times 
 than she had been when a young girl ; but he comforted 
 himself with the reflection that as women grew older, 
 they naturally grew thin with the anxieties and cares 
 of life, and never thought much more about her ; and 
 she, to do her justice, never complained. She went on 
 digging and delving, tying and pruning, feeling that 
 each day she was getting weaker, and yet dreading to 
 tell her brother and put him out more, now that his 
 farm hands had left him. Her one good trait was her 
 affection and devotion to her brother. After her death 
 Mateo was unable to keep up the two farms alone. 
 He was lazy by nature, and had preferred to sit quiet 
 and sleep rather than go out and turn his hand to 
 steady work in the vineyards. Nearly all the really 
 hard labour had fallen to his sister's share. He scarcely 
 knew what to begin upon without her to tell him. He 
 determined therefore, as he could not keep up the two 
 farms properly, to sell them if he could. But his 
 narrow stingy ways were punished abundantly. For 
 the land was so impoverished from neglect that no 
 purchaser was willing to give the price he demanded, 
 and it lay for many years on his hands. 
 
 While waiting to sell he became so reduced that he 
 was forced to go out seeking work himself as a helper, 
 and after some time got employment. His own farms 
 naturally suffered still more. Fortunately it was an un- 
 usually heavy season, and many hands were required. 
 
 But he got on badly with his mates. In spite of his 
 poverty Mateo could never bring himself to be civil 
 with his fellow-workers. Because he had been once 
 rich, he gave himself such airs that his companions 
 were deeply offended, and would hardly speak to him. 
 They were every bit as good as he was, they said to
 
 54 SPA NISH LEGEND A RY TA LES. 
 
 each other, and looked defiance at him whenever he 
 came near them. He used to order them about very 
 much, as though they were still working for him. 
 And they resented his authoritative ways and haughty 
 tempers. They determined to join together and watch 
 Mateo, so that if he did anything worthy of rebuke, 
 they could complain of him. Each day the man who 
 worked nearest him was told off to watch, and report 
 upon his conduct. 
 
 One day the men were all sent early to the vineyards 
 with their baskets, and there was a splendid prospect 
 of a fine vintage. The men were already treading the 
 grapes in the cart prepared especially for the purpose. 
 The bright-coloured fluid was running into the jars set 
 ready for it, and the treaders, fine, clean, healthy look- 
 ing lads, were singing and keeping time in their work 
 with the music. The vineyard was alive with busy 
 men and women filling their baskets to overflowing 
 with huge and beautiful clusters of grapes. As the 
 baskets were filled they were brought to the cart and 
 the contents emptied. The sun was shining brilliantly, 
 and the whole scene was gay and cheerful. Mateo 
 was working with the rest, but somehow his basket 
 was slow in getting filled. His companions to the 
 right and left of him had filled and emptied their 
 baskets three or four times before his was ready to 
 carry to the cart. And all this was not lost upon Tomas 
 Resian, who was close by, and who wondered a little 
 why Mateo, generally a quick man when he chose to 
 bestir himself, should be so slow with so easy a task as 
 grape-picking. He kept his eye pretty closely upon 
 Mateo, and after a few minutes he saw him put several 
 of the largest grapes into his mouth instead of into his 
 basket. After watching him for some time, and seeing 
 that more grapes went into Mateo's mouth than into 

 
 THE PETRIFIED MAN. 55 
 
 his basket, Tomas mentioned the fact to his companions, 
 who thenceforth watched Mateo closely. 
 
 Mateo certainly never intended to steal his master's 
 grapes. He had been his own master so long, and had 
 always been accustomed to indulge himself with a little 
 fruit upon his own land, so that he was not conscious 
 half the time that he was eating another person's 
 property. He was never able to realize that he himself 
 was working for some one else, and had no right to the 
 grapes which he abstracted. Every now and again he 
 would drop the fruit into the basket below, but more 
 frequently and quite mechanically he put it into his 
 mouth without being at all conscious that he was 
 robbing his employer. 
 
 His fellow-workmen saw these misdoings with great 
 delight ; and each one as he watched Mateo's proceed- 
 ings complained to the overseer of him, grumbling 
 loudly that they who had their baskets many times 
 filled during the day should be scolded and found fault 
 with for the smallness of their weight, while Mateo was 
 left in peace with but few baskets, having eaten three 
 quarters of the grapes given into his charge. At first 
 the overseer was loath to believe such unpleasant 
 reports of a man with whom in past days he had been 
 on very friendly terms ; and he felt, besides, keenly for 
 his friend in his change of fortune. But at last the 
 complaints about Mateo became so frequent that he 
 was obliged to refer the matter to the proprietor of the 
 estate. Spies were placed to watch Mateo, and one 
 and all brought back reports of the same character as 
 the first complaints that Mateo put more grapes into 
 his mouth than he did into his basket ; and finally he 
 was sent for by the proprietor and the overseer. 
 
 They were sitting in great state when Mateo was 
 ushered in, with all their documents and complaints
 
 56 SPANISH LEGEND A R Y TALES. 
 
 before them, and they examined him. When Mateo 
 understood what was the charge against him, he became 
 very indignant, and said : 
 
 " Am I an hidalgo and the son of an hidalgo for 
 nothing ? I have been rich myself, and the owner of 
 farms far more successful than these upon which I 
 work. Because I have fallen by misfortune and become 
 poor, is that a reason why I should be insulted by being 
 classed with thieves ?" 
 
 The two men who were his judges felt sorry for him, 
 and listened to his indignant protest with patience and 
 sympathy, and determined to try Mateo again, and to 
 give him another chance. 
 
 " Of course, Mateo," said the proprietor, " I can 
 quite understand how hurt you must feel at the in- 
 sinuations and complaints of men who have been farm- 
 hands under you. I can also quite understand how 
 hard it must be to realize your altered fortunes. We 
 will give you another chance ; but do try to put some 
 restraint upon your desire for the grapes, and bear in 
 mind that you are working with people whom you have 
 offended and treated badly in times past." 
 
 " I don't know what you mean," growled Mateo, as 
 he lounged back to his place in the vineyard. 
 
 His companions were told to watch carefully, and 
 he was permitted to return to his work. But night 
 after night the same complaints were made, that more 
 grapes went into Mateo's mouth than into his basket ; 
 and when the amount that he handed in daily was 
 weighed, it fell more than two-thirds short of the 
 ordinary measure. 
 
 At last, the overseer asked the proprietor if he him- 
 self might dress in peasant's clothes and watch Mateo as 
 a workman. The idea was delightful to the proprie- 
 tor, and he furnished the overseer with an entire suit
 
 THE PETRIFIED MAN. 57 
 
 of workman's clothes, and for those two or three days 
 did his own overseering. It was a fearfully hot day, 
 and the fruit lay between the cool dark leaves, looking 
 so refreshing and so tempting that nothing but a sense 
 of his duty kept the overseer from following the ex- 
 ample of Mateo. But though he worked like a galley 
 slave, and rilled his basket nine or ten times over, he 
 found Mateo always in the same place and with his 
 basket about half full. Eight out of every twelve 
 bunches of grapes he ate. And after three days 
 of this experience the overseer was forced to own 
 that Mateo was very deficient in labour, and his com- 
 plaint was of the same burden as the others that 
 Mateo carried more fruit to his mouth than he did to 
 his basket. Mateo was consequently brought up to see 
 the proprietor again. In vain the master expostulated 
 with him, and asked him if he could conscientiously 
 swear before the Saints that he filled his basket and ate 
 no grapes. 
 
 " Eh, hombre !" cried Mateo. " What do you think 
 I am made of, that I should steal from you ? If I were 
 not so poor, I would leave you now this very minute, 
 and you might sing till you were hoarse before I would 
 deign to work on this very poor farm. Have I not been 
 rich myself, and did I not make more money than you 
 can ? Do you suppose that I know nothing of what 
 a vineyard ought to bring in ? You must be ' tonto 
 (foolish) if you do." 
 
 The proprietor felt ashamed of the part he was 
 taking, and remained convinced that if Mateo stole, 
 it was from sheer absence of mind, and not intention. 
 
 For some days after this all went well. Mateo 
 brought his baskets in full at all times of the day ; so 
 very full that they nearly parted company and lost the 
 grapes. Suspicion was lulled for a time ; but one day,
 
 58 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 the proprietor and the overseer were going over the 
 property. It was almost the end of the vintage, and 
 only a few rows of grapes remained to be gathered. 
 While walking about they turned a corner suddenly, 
 and found Mateo with his basket at his feet, about half 
 full, eating the grapes, which were large, sweet, and 
 specially grown for a very choice kind of wine, for 
 which they had more orders than they could well fulfil. 
 And there was that abominable Mateo devouring them 
 greedily ! The two men could not repress a groan as 
 they saw their choicest and rarest vines despoiled in 
 this bold and unprincipled manner. Mateo turned 
 round with a half-devoured bunch in his hand, and 
 faced his employer. 
 
 " Now, what have you got to say for yourself, you 
 rogue ?" inquired the proprietor with much wrath. 
 " I have caught you myself, in the very act, and you 
 cannot escape with any more of your lies. What have 
 you to say for yourself, you rascal ?" 
 
 " Say for myself?" replied Mateo, with an innocent 
 expression on his face. " What should I have to say 
 for myself, but that I am gathering grapes for your 
 interest and profit ?" 
 
 " But you are eating more than you pick, you 
 scoundrel!" said the master indignantly. "Do you 
 mean to tell me that I, who have been watching you 
 for the last twenty minutes, am blind or drunk, or that 
 I am accusing you falsely of eating my most valuable 
 
 grapes 
 
 " Eating your grapes !" said Mateo fiercely. " Do I 
 not know I, a vine-grower myself (and a not unsuc- 
 cessful one) that these are a rare and choice kind of 
 grape, especially grown for a very rare and choice kind 
 of wine ? Va senor, you could not think so ill of me 
 as that ! May the blessed Saints turn me into a stone
 
 TH PETRIFIED MAN. 59 
 
 image if I have committed such a fraud upon you, or 
 robbed you in the smallest way !" 
 
 Here he stooped and placed his basket on his arm, 
 preparatory to leaving, and in a moment a curious 
 change came over Mateo. The proprietor and over- 
 seer were almost frozen with fear. The Saints, whom 
 Mateo had invoked, had taken him at his word. His 
 feet seemed glued to the spot. He tried in vain to 
 move. And gradually his legs turned to white stone. 
 
 Mateo's face was full of horror. 
 
 "What is the matter with me? I cannot move!" 
 Here he looked down at his feet and uttered a shriek 
 when he saw that they were turned to stone. " Oh, 
 senores ! dear senores!" he cried in his agony, " can- 
 not you help me? Pull me out of this ! don't stand 
 looking at me, but pull me out ! If I could only get 
 my feet out, I should be all right. See ! my body is 
 quite as usual. I have lied to you, oh my master ! and 
 I did eat the grapes ; but I did not mean to steal from' 
 you I did not, indeed. And I will never do it again, 
 if you will only forgive me, and help me out of this !" 
 
 His eyes were almost starting out of his head as he 
 held out his arms appealingly to his employer. 
 
 Both men did what they could for him. They tried 
 to move him by main force, but it was of no use. They 
 pulled and they tugged. Then they called all the work- 
 men, and together they tried to pull him from the 
 ground. They rubbed him with vinegar and oil to 
 take the stiffness out. Some of the strongest men 
 fainted with fear when they saw their comrade's plight. 
 But it was all of no use. 
 
 The stone seemed to creep further along his body. 
 They then fell on their knees and implored the Saints 
 to stay their vengeance upon a penitent man. 
 
 " He appealed to you because he believed himself
 
 60 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 innocent," they cried, " and because he was so poor. 
 Who knows better than you, oh blessed and merciful 
 Saints, that perhaps these grapes were his only food 
 and sustenance in his poverty? We have been too 
 hard upon him." 
 
 But they appealed in vain. When they turned to- 
 wards the object of their prayers, he was beyond the 
 reach of human aid. He was turned to stone, just as 
 he stood, his basket on his arm and his eyes staring 
 into vacancy. 
 
 ****** 
 
 In the corner of an old garden in Daroca, travellers 
 are to this day shown with great awe the " Man of 
 Stone."
 
 VI. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE JESSAMINE. 
 
 A GOOD many years ago there was a great sen- 
 sation made in Madrid society by the shutting-up 
 of a certain beautiful young lady of high rank in a 
 convent against her will. It was said that her ambitious 
 brother forced her into this seclusion because of what 
 he called her refractory conduct. The tale, as it was 
 told to me, was as follows : 
 
 Selmsi de Cordillera had been left, when quite an 
 infant^ dependent upon her brother, one of the proudest 
 grandees of Spain, and grew up a spoiled darling. 
 Her beauty and accomplishments, even when a child, 
 attracted many admirers ; and from them all she chose 
 a rising young artist, whom she loved with all her 
 heart. But her brother had other and more exalted 
 wishes for the young Selma's future, and would listen 
 to neither remonstrance nor entreaties. He com- 
 manded her either to marry the man whom he had 
 chosen for her husband, or if she refused, the convent 
 was open to rebellious women. The Marquis of 
 Miranda was an old and hideous-looking man, who 
 had all his life been known as the Don Juan of his 
 province. The expression of his face was enough for 
 Selma. She recoiled from him as from a serpent the
 
 62 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 first time she saw him, and assured her brother that 
 she preferred death to a marriage with the Marquis of 
 Miranda. Her brother was very angry, and forced her, 
 after various threats and insults, all of which Selma 
 bore with unwavering patience, into the Ursuline 
 Convent (near Madrid.) ftt 
 
 After the two years' novitiate she became a nun. 
 Crowds of people went, they say, to see the poor child 
 take the veil. There was hardly a dry eye in the 
 cathedral as the ceremony proceeded. But when the 
 question was asked her whether she chose the blessed 
 life of " marriage with Christ " of her own free will, 
 she gave a loud shriek and cried, " No, no! a thousand 
 times no!" The young artist, Luis Mefioz, her lover, 
 who had witnessed the ceremony from behind a pillar, 
 rushed out at her cries and tried to save her from the 
 punishment to which her brother had condemned her. 
 But he was too late. Before he could reach the high 
 altar, Selma had been carried in a half-fainting con- 
 dition through a side-door into the sacristy ; the door 
 closed behind her with a loud bang, and poor Luis 
 Menoz fell upon the steps in a swoon. 
 
 After Selma's public renunciation of the world, the 
 artist disappeared (from Madrid,) and for many years 
 nothing was heard of him. About a month after the 
 dreadful scene in the church, Selma, or, as she was 
 called in the convent, Sister Eulogia, fled from the 
 convent. How she escaped no one could tell. But 
 gone she had, and what was more, had left no trace 
 behind her. She disappeared from human ken as 
 
 surely as if she had never existed. Of course the news 
 
 rflte ' * **** 
 made much talk and scandal in ( Madridj for several 
 
 weeks. Selma's brother was furious at the shame cast 
 upon his name and family. For people somehow 
 connected this escape with the young artist's love and
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE JESSAMINE. 63 
 
 his disappearance. There was no proof of anything of 
 the kind, but the charitable world said what they 
 thought, and the Duke of Cordillera heard all that the 
 charitable world had to say through his friend the 
 Marquis of Miranda, and felt wounded and sore. But 
 Selma had gone. 
 
 n. 
 
 
 Many years after these eventsf in Madrid,} a tall, 
 handsome woman was seen going towards one of the 
 confessionals in the church^of Notre Dame at Paris. \ 
 She was leading a little girl by the hand, and both were 
 dressed in deep mourning. There was no mistaking 
 that face and figure to those who had once seen her. 
 It was Selma, though an older, paler, more mature 
 Selma than she who graced Jk society (of Madrid ] 
 in her younger days. The little child looked like her 
 mother in miniature. 
 
 " Mamma," said the little one, when her mother had 
 lifted her to a chair to wait for her, "when is Gracias 
 coming back ? Has she gone away for very long, for I 
 have no one to speak to now, while you go to whisper 
 into that queer, three-sided house ? Will she soon 
 come back to her little Paz ?" 
 
 A look of agony passed over Selma's face, and her 
 lip trembled as she said : 
 
 " Gracias has gone very far away, my darling, into a 
 country where we shall join her by-and-by, if we are 
 as good as she was." 
 
 "But can't she come back to us, mother?" wailed 
 the child. 
 
 Selma shook her head, unable to speak for the grief 
 at her heart, while her eyes filled with tears. She had 
 suffered much, this poor soul, since her escape from 
 the convent. Luis Menoz had contrived to get some
 
 
 
 64 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 communication with her by bribing one of the servants 
 of the convent. She escaped with the aid of the 
 servant friend, and joined her lover at the appointed 
 place. They were married, and lived at first as happily 
 as two young birds in the great busy life of Paris, he 
 teaching drawing and painting, and she music and 
 embroidery. Three children were born to them two 
 girls and a boy. The parents could barely earn enough 
 to keep them, and being delicate, the children were 
 more or less ailing all the time. Poor food and scanty 
 precarious means told upon the children, and gradually 
 they faded and died before the mother's eyes the 
 mother who would have given her life's blood to shield 
 them from harm. The boy sickened first, and passed 
 away ; then the little Gracias, ten years old and her 
 parents' little helper and counsellor, took the scarlet 
 fever, and before Selma realized that she was danger- 
 ously ill, she died. 
 
 The spring of her life seemed to break under this blow. 
 The gaiety and sport of the house died with Gracias, and 
 the little Paz grew up among sad and quiet surroundings. 
 And now Luis Menoz, the dearly loved husband and 
 father, lay ill at home ; and Selma knew that soon he 
 would join Gracias in that far-away country of which 
 she had spoken to the little Paz. Her heart was heavy 
 and sore as she knelt before the confessional and poured 
 out her soul in earnest prayer. Her prayers ended, 
 Selma left the church with Paz, and turned her face 
 towards the Montmartre quarter of the city. They 
 passed a small flower-market on their way home, and 
 Selma purchased a tiny bunch of jessamine. 
 
 " It is papa's favourite flower," she said to the little 
 girl, as she gave it to her to carry. 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE JESSAMINE. 65 
 
 III. 
 
 In a garret at the top of one of the poorest-looking 
 houses in a miserable street of the (Montmartre quarter 
 of Paris,W young-looking man sat bolstered up on a 
 pallet-bed ; near him, so that he could reach them 
 easily, were materials for etching, and before him was 
 a small drawing in pen and ink. Thin and worn and 
 ill as he looked, very different from the young artist of 
 former days, Luis Mefioz was happy in spite of his 
 poverty. And they were very poor. From the glassy 
 look of his eyes, anyone acquainted with disease could 
 tell in a moment that he was not long for this world, 
 although he had made a hard struggle to conceal from 
 himself the fact. Every now and then he would lay 
 down his pen and lean back on his pillows, gasping for 
 breath. Then, after a little time, he would collect all 
 his strength and go on with his work, until the next 
 paroxysm of pain forced him to lie back again. The 
 furniture of the room, though scanty and poor-looking, 
 was kept scrupulously neat and clean. While he was 
 lying back upon his pillows after one of these attacks 
 of pain, the door opened, and Selma walked in with the 
 little Paz. She hastened to the bedside, lifted his head 
 with one hand, while with the other she hastily poured 
 some medicine into a glass which stood near, and put it 
 to his lips. For a few minutes he revived. 
 
 " Oh, my darling!" she said to him tenderly; " it is 
 cruelly hard to see thee suffer and be too poor to give 
 thee good medical aid, when a pittance of my brother's 
 fortune might save thee yet." 
 
 " I am afraid it is too late for that, Selma," he said. 
 " We knew well what we were doing when we married, 
 and braved thy brother's anger." 
 
 5
 
 66 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " But I would not change our condition for his, rich 
 though he be ; and I would do the same thing over 
 again if I had the chance wouldst thou not ?" 
 
 A tender caress was his answer. The little Paz now 
 stepped forward with her tiny offering. She was tired 
 of being forgotten. Luis's face brightened at the sight 
 of the flowers he loved so well. 
 
 " It was kind of thee," he said, looking gratefully up 
 into Selma's face, " to remember my favourite flower 
 in the midst of all thy care and anxiety, Selma." 
 
 " It smells very sweet, papa," remarked Paz; " but 
 there are so many prettier flowers than that one. Why 
 dost thou love it so much ?" 
 
 " I will tell thee, little Paz," said her father. " In 
 the days before I married thy dear mother, I was very 
 unhappy, and wandered about in different countries 
 trying to divert my mind until I could see her again. 
 In the course of my travels I met an old hermit, a true 
 man of God, who had travelled much himself, and had 
 been a great deal in the Holy Land. His life was rude, 
 solitary, and hard, and his food was poor and scant ; 
 but mine was not much better, and it comforted me to 
 tell him all my anxiety and trouble. He was only too 
 glad to listen and help me with advice, so he allowed 
 me to stay with him for a time. In his poor ill- 
 furnished hut there were two or three large pots of 
 these flowers, which you think so lightly of, my dear 
 little Paz. These he tended with the greatest love and 
 care. One day I asked him why he loved these flowers 
 so tenderly, and neglected others quite as beautiful, 
 which grew wild in the plains about us. ' My son,' 
 said he, 'these lovely fragrant creatures are a con- 
 stant lesson to me of endurance. For when our Lord 
 died upon the cross for the manifold sins of the 
 world, which did not know and which did not 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE JESSAMINE. 67 
 
 appreciate Him and His sacrifice, there was then, as 
 now, a profusion of flowers growing around Jeru- 
 salem. Among them was this flower, which grows 
 luxuriantly about there, and which then was a beautiful 
 rose-colour. On the day of the crucifixion'" (and 
 here Luis made the sign of the cross, and Selma and 
 little Paz did the same) " ' on that awful day, when 
 the veil of the temple was rent in twain, the delicate 
 and tender flowers died from fright and sorrow ; but 
 these beautiful jasmine blossoms hid their lovely heads 
 behind their glossy leaves, and endured the grief and 
 shame with our Lord. Only when He was dead did 
 they venture forth, and lo ! they were white instead of 
 pink. Endurance in great trouble and sorrow is the 
 lesson that they teach, and therefore I always have 
 them near me, and tend them with such loving care.' 
 This is why I love them so much also, little Paz, for 
 they have comforted and helped me in many a heavy 
 time of sadness and of woe." 
 
 IV. 
 
 Not many weeks passed before Luis Meiioz joined 
 his daughter Gracias in the eternal world. Selma bore 
 her dreadful sorrow bravely and well ; but although 
 she kept up and went through her daily routine of work, 
 her health gave way and gradually failed her. She 
 placed the little Paz in a convent school, where she 
 seemed happy and content, and had no one but herself 
 to look after. " It is better so," she said to herself. 
 " If I starve, the child will be well cared for." 
 
 After her husband's death, she always wore a bit of 
 jessamine. In the summer she contrived always to 
 have a spray, whether she went without food or not ; 
 and in the winter she embroidered a lovely blossom of 
 
 52
 
 68 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 jessamine upon the bosom and sleeves of her black 
 gown. Once a favourite pupil asked her why she chose 
 always that particular flower; and Selma told her 
 friend the legend of the jessamine, and what it had 
 been to her husband and to her. As long as her 
 strength held out, Selma continued her duties, always 
 encouraged and strengthened by the little flower and 
 its sweet story. But the day came at last when nature 
 refused to work. For some days her pupils watched 
 for her in vain ; and at last the girl who had asked 
 her why she always wore the jessamine became 
 anxious about her, and found her out up in her poor 
 and desolate home. She found her, but in a dying 
 condition, and remained with her until the end. With 
 her last breath Selma whispered, as she kissed a spray 
 of jessamine, " My God, Thou knowest that I HAVE 
 endured !"
 
 VII. 
 THE MASKED BALL:' 
 
 IN one of the narrowest and steepest streets of Toledo, 
 there stood, a great many years ago, a fine, large, 
 old house. Over the portal was the coat-of-arms 
 of the noble family of Verano. It was an imposing- 
 looking building, and was built on the Moorish plan. 
 Through the delicate iron scroll-work of the gates 
 might be seen a large " patio," or courtyard, with a 
 fountain playing in the middle, and beautiful flowers 
 growing all around. For many years but few visitors 
 were allowed to enter, for the master of the house 
 was old and feeble, and saw hardly anyone but the 
 priest and the doctor. -pA-r^ 
 
 The old Conde de Verano was a long time in shuffling 
 off this mortal coil : every now and then there was a 
 report that he was sinking fast, but he revived in a 
 marvellous way after each attack, and lingered on and 
 on until people whispered to each other that he must 
 either be the Wandering Jew himself, or else have com- 
 mitted some awful crime, for which he was doomed to 
 live on for ever. 
 
 There was one bright thing in all that dreary house,_. 7 
 and that was the grand-daughter of the old Getmt. 
 She was sixteen years old, and as pretty and sweet a 
 little fairy as ever was seen in Toledo. She was the life 
 of the house, and there was not a creature in it, from
 
 70 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 . 
 the solemn old major-domo to the groom in the stable, 
 
 but would willingly have died for the little Countess 
 Teresita (de Verano.) She was small, slight, and agile, 
 with tiny hands and feet. Her head was beautifully 
 placed upon her shoulders, and her great black eyes 
 made a curious contrast to the masses of rich brown 
 hair which were coiled round and round the small, 
 well-shaped head. Her mother had been one of the 
 
 beauties of Seville, and had died when she was born. 
 
 pivrffdW 
 Her father lived with the old Count, in this dreary old 
 
 p^tlq.ce in the Calle de la Trinidad. But nothing could 
 sadden the spirits of Teresita. Her laugh was like a 
 peal of bells, and she had such coaxing, wheedling ways, 
 that even the solemn-visaged old major-domo could not 
 refuse her anything. Her father was a man of con- 
 siderable refinement and taste, and adored his little 
 daughter to his heart's content, all the more that she 
 resembled in many ways the mother whom he had loved 
 so dearly. y^l^ 
 
 At last the old Gonde de Verano died, and his son 
 lived quietly with his daughter in the dreary old palace. 
 The term of mourning having expired, all Toledo was 
 excited by the news that the Gonck: de Verano was 
 going to give a masked ball, to introduce Teresita into 
 society. 
 
 Many years had passed since most of his old friends 
 had crossed the threshold, and great was the curiosity 
 of those who were fortunate enough to be invited. 
 None of the guests refused, for the house was said to 
 be haunted, and all were anxious to see in company 
 with one another what the old palace looked like 
 inside. Besides that, a masked ball was quite a new 
 thing to the good people of Toledo. The evening 
 came, and the old palace was brilliant with a thousand 
 lights. The suites of rooms were hung with choice old
 
 THE MASKED BALL. 71 
 
 tapestries, and the handsome silver and gold chandeliers 
 sparkled with lights and reflected a thousand brilliant 
 colours. The walls were hung with old armour, and 
 the broad marble staircase was thronged with people, 
 and all were dressed in dominoes and masks. At 
 midnight they were all to unmask. The guests were 
 more or less startled, therefore, at meeting a man 
 dressed entirely in armour, with visor down, who wore 
 neither domino nor mask. He seemed to know no one, 
 for he was met several times in different parts of the 
 house, and always alone. The clanking of his armour 
 and sword could be heard a long way off; and as he 
 came near, people involuntarily stepped aside, so chilly 
 did the air become as he strode past, regardless of every- 
 thing and everybody. 
 
 It had been arranged between the Count and his 
 daughter that they themselves should not dress in do- 
 minoes and masks. Don Jayme thought Teresita too 
 young for that kind of thing, and they stood together 
 at the end of the long drawing-room to receive their 
 guests. Teresita looked very lovely in her white gauzy 
 draperies, and she had no lack of partners for the 
 dances which formed the chief part of the entertain- 
 ment. Her simplicity and gaiety charmed all hearts ; 
 and the knowing ones prophesied that she would be a 
 great success. Her father's heart swelled as he heard 
 these comments upon his darling. 
 
 The only thing which disturbed everyone's enjoyment 
 was the entrance of the man in armour, from time to 
 time. He walked straight through the different rooms, 
 paying no attention to anyone, and the fun and conver- 
 sation died away as he passed. People whispered to 
 each other, and wondered who the strange knight might 
 be. Some suggested that there was a story of the house 
 being haunted, and that perhaps this was the ghost ;
 
 72 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 others, that the armour was only put on for the even- 
 ing, and that the knight had made a mistake and 
 thought it was a fancy-dress ball, instead of a masked 
 one. In short, all sorts of suggestions were made. 
 Teresita was too full of enjoyment and delight to care 
 about the knight at first ; but even she could not 
 help noticing the disturbed looks of the people about 
 her, and the dead silence which fell upon them all 
 as the knight passed through the rooms at long in- 
 tervals. She determined to find out something more 
 about the man. She went all through the rooms until 
 she found Don Jayme. 
 
 "Mi padre," she said, "who is the curious cabal- 
 lero, dressed in armour, who keeps walking about all 
 by himself?" 
 
 " What caballero ?" asked Don Jayme, turning pale. 
 " I have seen no one dressed in armour." 
 
 " Seen no one dressed in armour !" cried Teresita, 
 turning round to look at her father. " Where are your 
 eyes, dear papa ? We have all seen him, and I am 
 sure you can hear his sword and his armour rattle and 
 clatter a mile off. Why, there he is, coming through 
 the door now ! Don't you see him ? Can't you hear 
 him?" 
 
 Don Jayme said nothing, but turned white to the 
 very lips. He neither saw nor heard anything himself; 
 but he knew that the appearance of the ghost of the 
 house portended no particular good fortune, but rather 
 disaster. 
 
 At last the time came for everyone to unmask. It 
 was like a transformation scene ; everyone bloomed 
 out in gay costumes and bright colours, and lent addi- 
 tional brilliance to the already beautiful rooms. The 
 servants handed round wine and cake, chocolate and 
 ices ; and the air was filled with the hum of many 

 
 THE MASKED BALL. 73 
 
 voices. Everybody seemed very happy, and began 
 nibbling cake and sipping wine. But after the first 
 taste, the guests looked at each other. First one and 
 then another put down his glass, with a face of disgust. 
 What could be the matter with the wine ? It looked 
 like a rich heavy Burgundy, but it tasted like blood. 
 At the moment that one of the guests was saying, " It 
 tastes like blood," the knight in armour entered the 
 room. In a second the voices were hushed, and all 
 gazed silently at the figure, which looked neither to the 
 right nor to the left, but strode across the floor as 
 though he were in a hurry. But Teresita, with a 
 courage unusual for so young a girl, quietly left her 
 seat, and placing herself in front of the figure, said : 
 
 " Senor Caballero, will you not unmask now and join 
 us at supper ?" 
 
 The figure did not answer, and the guests shuddered 
 and covered their eyes when they saw what the young 
 girl was doing ; but when they looked again the figure 
 had gone, and Teresita lay on the floor in a dead faint. 
 She very soon recovered her senses, however, made 
 light of the whole matter, and was among the gayest of 
 the company for the rest of the evening. 
 
 " So much for trying to be polite to people whom 
 you do not know," she said, laughing. " But the man 
 is very strange. Perhaps he is mad, poor thing !" 
 
 Don Jayme had made no answer when Teresita said 
 that the knight in armour was coming in at the door. 
 He could see nothing, nor could he hear anything ; but 
 he had heard enough of the ghost in his boyhood to 
 remember that those whose attention the ghost wished 
 to attract were the very persons who were both blind 
 and deaf as far as he was concerned. 
 
 The ghost was restless about something, and he 
 must find out what it was. As soon as he could leave
 
 74 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 his guests unnoticed he made his way to the room of 
 Juan, the old major-domo of the house. He had been 
 in the family ever since Don Jayme was a baby, and 
 was a most valuable and trustworthy servant. To him 
 the ghost was an old acquaintance, for he had, or 
 thought he had, seen it several times. It generally 
 portended nothing good when it appeared, that Don 
 Jayme knew; but its precise significance he did not 
 know, and therefore he had slipped away from his 
 guests to ask information from old Juan. 
 
 He was startled when he saw him. For the first 
 time in his life Juan appeared frightened. Don Jayme 
 had never seen Juan look so before. Poor Juan's lips 
 were white and trembling; his eyes seemed starting out 
 of their sockets, as if they were straining to see some- 
 thing that was far off. When he saw his master enter 
 the room he held up both hands, and said in a frightened 
 whisper : 
 
 " Why, master, what is the ghost Walking for ? You 
 have doubtless seen him ;" and he seemed anxious for 
 Don Jayme's answer. 
 
 " No, Juan ; I can neither see nor hear him, but the 
 senorita has, and so have all the guests." 
 
 Old Juan fell back in his chair, and gave a groan. 
 
 " You MUST hear him, Senor Conde ! He is coming 
 along the passage now. Can't you hear his armour 
 clashing and his sword clanking over the stones ? 
 There he is, just passing the door ! Can't you see 
 him?" 
 
 Don Jayme did his best. He listened carefully, even 
 eagerly, and strained his eyes to see the shadow of a 
 man in armour. Juan saw that he was making a great 
 effort, and groaned again. 
 
 " No," said Don Jayme, after a few minutes' pause ; 
 " no ; I can hear and see nothing." 

 
 THE MASKED BALL. 75 
 
 " Oh, Dios !" cried poor Juan, " how can I convince 
 the Sefior Conde ? Come into the hall and see if all 
 the armour is there." 
 
 They went together into the hall. Apparently all 
 the armour was there ; but to make quite sure, they 
 counted the pieces hanging up. Almost at the further 
 end of the hall one complete suit of armour was 
 missing ! 
 
 They turned and looked at each other. Don Jayme's 
 face was now as white as Juan's, and he whispered : 
 
 " What does it mean, Juan ? the ghost's walking !" 
 
 " It means it means misfortune," replied Juan, 
 almost in a whisper. " There ! he is coming towards 
 us again. Surely you can see him now, senor !" 
 
 " No," replied Don Jayme ; " I see nothing." 
 
 " He is making enough noise to wake the dead," 
 muttered Juan to himself. " Don Jayme must be deaf 
 not to hear him." 
 
 While Juan and his master were trying to fathom 
 the mystery of the ghost, the guests were beginning to 
 feel uncomfortable at remaining any longer in a house 
 that had the reputation of being haunted. The small 
 hours had already begun, and who could tell how many 
 more ghosts might be seen that night ? The guests 
 moved about uneasily, and made inquiries for the host. 
 Teresita did her best to amuse them, and begged them 
 to stay for a few more dances. But her efforts were 
 unavailing ; and seeing that they were really in earnest, 
 she pressed them no more, but sent a servant to find 
 her father. The strange events of the evening had 
 made a startling impression even on her young mind. 
 She was therefore not astonished that her guests 
 should wish to leave a house where they had been 
 witnesses of such ominous sights. 
 
 Don Jayme, the moment that he had seen the last
 
 76 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 of his guests, returned with all speed to Juan, with 
 whom he consulted as to what they should do to get 
 rid of the ghost. 
 
 " If he would only go with the guests, how glad we 
 should all be !" sighed old Juan. The servants were 
 frightened almost out of their senses, and sat close 
 together in the kitchen, talking in whispers and 
 shivering whenever they heard the clattering of the 
 sword along the stone floor, as the knight strode about 
 the house. Teresita sat for a time alone in the draw- 
 ing-room, where she had that evening had so much 
 enjoyment and dancing. She was not at all tired, and 
 would joyfully have gone on dancing for two hours 
 longer if the guests had not been so frightened by the 
 knight in armour, and gone away together like a flock 
 of sheep. She wondered where her father was, and 
 why he turned so pale and did not answer when she 
 pointed out to him the knight coming into the room. 
 
 At last she got tired of sitting by herself. There 
 was a long pier-glass at one end of the drawing-room, 
 and as she rose she saw herself reflected in it. She 
 looked almost as fresh as when the evening began ; 
 and she walked up to the glass and stood admiring 
 herself for some time. At last she began humming a 
 gay bolero air, and involuntarily her feet kept time to 
 the music, till she found herself dancing to her own 
 reflection in the glass. She danced and capered till 
 she was tired, and sank exhausted on a sofa. She 
 rather wondered why no one had come up all this time 
 to put out the lights and shut up the house. She 
 listened attentively, but not a sound could she hear of 
 anyone stirring, excepting occasionally the tramp and 
 clatter of the knight in armour as he made his rounds. 
 She had become so used to the sound that it did not 
 disturb her in the least. The servants were too
 
 THE MASKED BALL. 77 
 
 frightened to move from the kitchen, unless they all 
 went together, and Don Jayme and Juan were talking 
 together in the major-domo's room. Juan confessed 
 to feeling nervous, because he said that he had been 
 told by his late master that the ghost had walked when 
 Don Jayme's grandfather was away fighting in the wars 
 against the Moors. The ghost appeared there for two 
 days and three nights in the very same suit of mail. At 
 the end of the three days, the news came that Don 
 Andres had been killed in battle, and the ghost dis- 
 appeared as suddenly as he had come. 
 
 " Have you seen him before to-night, Juan ?" in- 
 quired Don Jayme. 
 
 " No, senor," was the reply. " I was carrying some 
 candles into the drawing-room before the company 
 came, when I met him on the stairs. I thought at 
 first that perhaps some seilor might have come early 
 by mistake, or that perhaps you had armed yourself in 
 that fashion to astonish your guests. But soon after- 
 wards I saw you come out of your room dressed as 
 you are now, and then it flashed across me what it 
 was. And ever since the figure has been marching up 
 and down the house. He seems to have finished his 
 rounds for to-night at any rate, for I hear his footsteps 
 no more." 
 
 Just then Teresita, who had been hunting all over 
 the house for her father, opened the door, and seeing 
 him, she immediately began talking about the ball and 
 the guests, and finally the man in armour. 
 
 " I think he must be tired by this time," she said, 
 "for he has been walking for four whole hours ; but I 
 do not hear him now, and although I have been all 
 over the house to find you, I have neither seen nor 
 heard him." 
 
 All this excitement had tired Don Jayme very much. 
 
 " Let us go and have a glass of wine," he said, " and
 
 78 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 refresh ourselves before we go to bed ;" and he led the 
 way to the dining-room. Juan followed his master, 
 poured him out a glass of wine, and retired, quite 
 satisfied that the ghost's watch was over for that night. 
 
 Teresita had stayed behind for a few minutes to give 
 directions to her maid, but joined her father in the 
 dining-room almost directly after Juan had left him. 
 He was sitting in his usual chair at the head of the 
 table, apparently sipping his wine, for his glass was 
 half empty, and he held it in his hand, which was 
 resting on the table. Teresita had hardly time to do 
 more than notice this, for she was startled by seeing 
 the knight in armour standing erect and immovable 
 behind her father's chair. 
 
 " Why, there is our friend the knight, papa," she 
 said, " standing directly behind you. If you turn your 
 head just the least little bit, you cannott help seeing 
 him. But her father taking no notice of her remark, 
 she touched him, and a shriek resounded through the 
 house, which brought all the servants hurrying into the 
 room. Don Jayme was dead. 
 
 For days and weeks Teresita's life hung on a thread, 
 but at last she recovered. Her gay spirits were gone, 
 her face was pinched and worn, her hair was perfectly 
 white. It is said that one of the sweetest of the nuns, 
 in the days when the church of Sta. Maria la Blanca 
 had a convent attached to it, was named Teresita de 
 Verano. The old house in the Calle de la Trinidad is 
 empty, and supposed to be haunted still by the knight 
 in armour.
 
 VIII. 
 
 THE CASTLE OF JATIVA. 
 
 JATIVA is an old Moorish town on the road to Valencia. 
 A chain of mountains stand behind it ; while b.efore 
 it stretches a large and luxuriantly cultivated plain, 
 divided off into gardens full of orange trees and pome- 
 granates. The turreted walls of the castle stand out 
 conspicuously against the hillside. 
 
 The building is still picturesque, and, although now 
 for the most part in a ruinous condition, one wing of 
 it used to be habitable. At one time, many years ago, 
 it was garrisoned by a battalion of one of the best 
 Spanish regiments. Although the castle was not the 
 most cheerful abode in the world, life was not dreary, 
 for the views all around were lovely, and the little town 
 of Jativa was not far off, where the officers and men 
 were always welcomed They were brave, honest, and 
 manly ; but they were Spaniards, and of course super- 
 stitious. The Castle of Jativa has many legends 
 attached to it. Some of these were known to most of 
 the soldiers, and naturally they would have preferred 
 to be stationed anywhere but at the Castle of Jativa. 
 However, they were bound to follow their officers and 
 to obey orders, and the orders were that they should, 
 for a time at least, garrison this old fortress. 
 
 It was the "All-Hallow E'en." The weather had been 
 blustering and cold. Piercing winds blew through the
 
 8o SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 valley, and snow had begun already to fall. Those 
 soldiers who were not on duty were in the guard-room, 
 huddled round a large and wide brasier full of glowing 
 coals, trying in vain to warm their frozen feet, and their 
 fingers which were blue with cold. The bells in the 
 town of Jativa were tolling dolefully at intervals, and 
 the church bell at the foot of the mountain could 
 be heard at the top, clanging mournfully. The wind 
 whistled round the old castle, and blew in gusts against 
 the windows, and through its many chinks and crevices. 
 The snow-flakes struck upon the windows as though 
 anxious to be let in. Many of the soldiers were wrapped 
 in their cloaks and rugs, but still the cold was so 
 searching that, in spite of the brasier and their precau- 
 tions, their teeth chattered as they sat crowded together 
 round the hot coals. 
 
 It is the custom in Spain to sit up all night on "All-Hal- 
 low E'en," and tell stories. They are generally tales of 
 ghosts, or of the miraculous intervention of some sah^t, 
 or the Madonna. The soldiers at the old Castle^of 
 Jativa were no exception to the rule, but were telling 
 stories round the glowing brasier, and trying to forget the 
 cold and the stormy weather outside. Each one was to 
 tell a story in turn ; the circle round the brasier grew 
 larger when the guards were changed, and those who 
 had been on duty outside came in nearly frozen, and 
 crouched over the burning coals. Many of the tales 
 told had been of a ghostly nature, and the night was 
 far advanced. At last, midnight struck from the 
 church clock at the foot of the mountain. The bells 
 kept on sounding drearily at short intervals, and the 
 soldiers, terrified by the stories they had heard, crept 
 closer and closer and kept each other warm. The 
 wind rose and fell in great gusts, and whistled and 
 moaned till it sounded like a soul in pain. The win- 

 
 THE CASTLE OF J AT IV A. 81 
 
 dows rattled, and the doors creaked mournfully. All 
 at once the soldiers heard a curious sound, which 
 came neither from the windows nor the doors. The 
 quick even tread of the sentries pacing their rounds 
 could be distinctly heard. The men looked at each 
 other with 'white faces and trembling lips. 
 
 " What was that noise ?" said one of them in a 
 whisper. 
 
 No one answered, but they all listened more atten- 
 tively. The sound came nearer and nearer, and it seemed 
 as though some one was dragging along a heavy chain. 
 It rattled and clanked ; and with one impulse the men 
 left the brasier and retired to the farthest corner of the 
 guard-room. At length they saw a man dressed in 
 Moorish costume steal quietly into the room. His feet 
 and hands were chained together, and it was the long, 
 heavy chain round his ankles that made the clattering 
 sound. His face had a terrified expression upon it, 
 and he looked round him as if expecting some one to 
 come after him. The soldiers watched him with bated 
 breath and frightened faces, straining their eyes to 
 discover who was coming after the Moorish prisoner. 
 In a few minutes he had crossed the room, continually 
 glancing around him and behind him, the chain clank- 
 ing whenever he walked, though he moved with the 
 greatest care and precaution. At last he passed through 
 the open door into the passage, and was no more 
 seen ; but the soldiers did not dare to move from 
 their place at the end of the room. They could still 
 hear in the distance the dragging of that dreadful 
 chain. 
 
 " Did you see how pale he looked ?" at last said one 
 of the soldiers in a whisper. His voice shook so much 
 that it sounded as though his teeth were chattering. 
 
 " Yes," said another, with a decided quaver in his 
 
 6
 
 82 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 voice, " and did you notice how thin his hands and 
 body were ?" 
 
 " Has anyone heard of any story attached to this 
 place ?" inquired a third, courageously lighting a 
 cigarette. 
 
 " There are plenty of them, I believe," returned one 
 of the men who had been a long time in the regi- 
 ment, " but I never heard one of any Moorish prisoner. 
 Perhaps he was captured at the battle of Almansa, 
 and kept here as a prisoner. Ay ! what is that ?" 
 
 For at that moment they heard shouting outside a 
 din and clash of arms, a great hum of voices apparently 
 giving orders; moans and groans as of wounded men, and 
 every now and then a voice seemed to appeal for mercy. 
 
 With one bound the men rushed to the door, and 
 cold and snowing heavily as it was, they^stood in the 
 open space before the castle, and looked eagerly about 
 for signs of the fray. Although they still distinctly 
 heard the noise, the din of voices, the clash of arms 
 and the suppliant voice, they could see nothing abso- 
 lutely nothing, The sentries on duty ran up with breath- 
 less haste to inquire what was the matter. The men 
 told what they had seen, and they all looked in each 
 other's pale faces aghast. The officers of the regiment 
 came hurriedly from their quarters to find out what 
 the disturbance meant, and they also stood motionless 
 in the bitter wind and listened to the noise. Many 
 swords apparently came clattering down upon shields 
 upraised to receive the blows. Groans were heard as 
 from dying men, growing fainter and fainter until they 
 for the moment were lost in silence. 
 
 In a few seconds, louder and deeper groans would 
 be heard, and every now and then the pleading voice 
 could be discerned above the din. 
 The bells down in the valley clanged and boomed 

 
 THE CASTLE OF JATIVA. 83 
 
 most dolefully, and the one in the church at the foot 
 of the mountain rang out its dismal funeral note ; the 
 wind whistled and moaned ; dogs barked and howled 
 below and still, through it all, the men could hear 
 distinctly the blows and the voices. The soldiers stood 
 and listened in a stupid petrified attitude. At last one 
 of the sentries, happening to look towards the main 
 building of the castle, uttered a cry. All turned their 
 heads to look, and echoed the voice of their comrade. 
 
 The main part of the castle was, as we have 
 said before, in a ruinous condition. It had neither 
 roof nor window-fittings, yet nevertheless mysterious 
 lights were seen flitting here and there through the 
 whole building : now at this window and now at that, 
 as though people were hurrying to the scene of the 
 battle. This changing of lights from one window to 
 another continued for an hour or more. Then suddenly 
 the noise of battle ceased entirely. The groans con- 
 tinued for some few minutes after the din had stopped, 
 and after becoming fainter and fainter died away alto- 
 gether. The pleading voice could still be heard, and 
 the rattling of the chain was again audible, as though 
 it were being rudely pulled along and dragged over 
 the passage and floors. The soldiers stood listening, 
 some of them in no slight alarm, but determined to 
 see, or rather to hear, the end of the adventure. 
 They heeded neither the deadly cold nor the driving 
 snow-storm. The wind whistled and moaned round the 
 castle, rattled the window-panes, and creaked the doors, 
 while the snow-flakes pelted against the windows 
 like mad things. The bells still continued to ring out 
 dolefully in the silent town below, and the little church 
 bell at the foot of the mountain responded with a wailing 
 sound, while the clock in the church tower struck two. 
 Now and then the dogs barked and disturbed the 
 
 62
 
 84 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 silence of the night. The lights in the ruined part of 
 the castle were still to be seen, but instead of moving 
 rapidly about from one window to another they seemed 
 stationary in the lower part of the building. 
 
 Strains of music were heard, but they sounded a 
 long way off. It was the music of a "zarabanda," a 
 stately kind of ancient Spanish dance, with the measure 
 well and distinctly marked. The rustling of dresses 
 could be heard, and every now and then a peal of 
 laughter rang out into the air. Two or three of the 
 soldiers ventured to peep in through the broken remains 
 of the windows, but they could see nothing. The 
 music sounded sweet and distant, and the steps of the 
 dancers were distinctly audible, while the room seemed 
 to be filled with soft and harmonious whisperings. 
 One man who had climbed up and thrust his head 
 into the room insisted that he had been brushed against 
 by one of the invisible fair ones. 
 
 The snow had ceased by this time, the wind blew 
 less bitterly, but the bells of Jativa tolled dolefully 
 and incessantly, and the clock of the church below 
 struck three. As the last stroke of the hour sounded, 
 the stately flowing music of the "zarabanda" changed 
 into dirge-like chanting. It was a requiem, Wailing 
 choruses followed, interrupted every now and then by 
 a cry of " Ay, de mi ! ay, de mi !" as if it came from a 
 broken heart. The soldiers drew closer together, and 
 those venturesome ones who had been peeping in at the 
 windows joined their comrades with all speed. The 
 chanting continued with intervals of wailing and 
 broken-hearted cries for nearly an hour. As suddenly 
 as the funeral march and requiem had begun they 
 ceased, and again the din of battle was heard raging 
 furiously. It seemed to be death and no quarter with 
 these invisible foes. The blows upon the shields were
 
 THE CASTLE OF JATIVA. 85 
 
 something terrible to hear, and came clattering down 
 with a sound of relentless vengeance. The soldiers, 
 finding that there was really nothing to see, listened 
 with trembling limbs in the passage of the castle to the 
 fearful and savage warfare going on outside. Again 
 the moans and groans of the wounded and dying were 
 heard, and sometimes the cry of one in mortal pain. 
 But the complaining, pleading voice which had been 
 heard before was silent, and only blows and shouts 
 were now to be distinguished in the fray. 
 
 The listeners waited patiently to see the end of this 
 night of horrors. The whole garrison was up, officers 
 and all, and had no desire to go to bed, although their 
 teeth chattered with the cold, and they were weary 
 both in body and soul. 
 
 " What horrible tales this castle could tell if it could 
 only speak!" said one of the soldiers to another. 
 
 " Yes," answered the other; " there must have been 
 some pretty doings up here to make the spirits live 
 over again such horrors as we have heard to-night. 
 Fancy being bound to do this twice a year on St. 
 John's Eve, as well as to-night." 
 
 " Perhaps they have pleasanter reminiscences for 
 St. John's Eve," said a third soldier, joining in. " They 
 cannot have been at swords' points all the year round. 
 There must have been pleasant things to remember and 
 to act over again." 
 
 " I only hope that we shall not be quartered here 
 another year," remarked the first speaker. " It is 
 enough to make one's hair turn white with awe. And 
 yet there is nothing to do but to stand by and listen, 
 and then one feels such a fool." 
 
 " Another time we should understand it and not be 
 frightened," said the second soldier. " There they go 
 again with their funeral chants. That makes my flesh
 
 86 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 creep more than anything else that has happened to- 
 night." 
 
 The noise of the fighting had suddenly ceased, only 
 to begin again the funeral chanting, the dismal distant 
 music, the rustling of long robes, and the mournful 
 wailing cry of one in deep distress. The cold had 
 become less bitter, the wind had been lulled to rest, 
 and the bells in the town seemed to ring out less dole- 
 fully, while the clock at the foot of the mountain chimed 
 six. 
 
 With the first faint streak of dawn the music, which 
 had sounded distant all the time, grew fainter and 
 fainter until it ceased altogether, and nothing more 
 was heard. 
 
 The old woman who supplied goats' milk to the 
 garrison every day came later this morning than was 
 her wont. This was annoying, as after their long and 
 cold vigil the men needed their hot coffee and choco- 
 late all the more. One of them was so angry and cold 
 that he upbraided the old crone roundly. She looked 
 at him calmly, and answered, when he stopped his 
 tirade for want of breath : 
 
 " Ay, Senor Caballero, but I would not come up here 
 before broad daylight for any money to-day. Pretty 
 sights and sounds you must have seen and heard all night ! 
 I am glad that I was not in your place ; it would have 
 killed me. I wonder that you are alive to tell the tale. 
 Everyone was talking of you all down below last night, 
 and pitying you for being perched up here, shut up 
 with the ghosts. You may thank the blessed Saints 
 that you are still alive. For there have been evil 
 ghosts seen and dreadful deeds done up here on the 
 4 Noche de los Difuntos ' in this old Castle of Jativa." 
 
 Bftt 

 
 IX. 
 
 THE SMUGGLERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 5/* A) JSABtt 
 
 EAUX CHAUDES, as everyone knows, is a tiny village in 
 the Pyrenees, through which there is a road across the 
 mountains into Spain. A little way beyond the Eaux 
 Chaudes the bleak and dreary road passes a curious 
 side-path, going apparently to the skies, but really only 
 leading to Gavarnie, a neglected and untidy little 
 collection of houses, peopled with gruff, blunt, and 
 boorish peasants. After passing Gavarnie the road 
 lies cold and white between barren-looking moun- 
 tains, or rather very high hills, for many miles without 
 any break or habitation. No smoke pointing to the 
 existence of a house is to be seen by the weary and 
 belated traveller, as he jogs along on his jaded mule. 
 The road is so lonely that for many years it was the 
 favourite highway for those who desired to enter Spain 
 " without questions" Troops of mules may be seen 
 trudging along with their gay yellow headgear, red ear- 
 rosettes, and tails gaudily braided with red and yellow 
 trimmings. Men with knee-breeches, and heads tied 
 up in gay kerchiefs, carrying curious many-coloured 
 woollen cloths, with manifold tassels bobbing at the 
 edges, are to be seen wearily making their way in com- 
 pany with the sleek, silky-looking jennets which are 
 travelling slowly over the border into France. This 
 road used to be a dangerous one, infested by smugglers
 
 88 ^ SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 and robbers (who were their aiders and abettors), and 
 by wolves. For a long time, even the police refused to 
 explore that region unless accompanied by a mounted 
 guard. It was as much as their lives were worth, they 
 said ; and the road was left clear for the marauders. 
 
 But in spite of the dreariness and barren waste of 
 this road, it was peopled in every direction, and woe to 
 the man who was belated there. For many years 
 these hiding-places (which probably the people who 
 lived in them called " home ") were never discovered ; 
 but shocking crimes were committed on the road from 
 time to time, which called loudly for investigation. No 
 one liked to be the first to start upon this dangerous 
 expedition. All made excuses. This one was ill, 
 another could not leave his infirm and aged parents, 
 and some excuse was found to deter each of those told 
 off for the service. At last, things came to such a 
 pass that a large mounted guard was sent off to explore 
 the road, from the border of Spain to the Eaux 
 Chaudes. A flagrant case of robbery and murder had 
 occurred. 
 
 A young Spaniard named Jose Quederos, and his 
 cousin Federigo Menillo, who had been born and 
 bred in France, were going through the Pass on 
 their way to Pau, on horseback. They were gay, 
 brave young men, accustomed to duelling and fighting, 
 and anxious to play with edged tools. From sheer 
 bravado they went on this road to see what wolves, 
 robbers, and smugglers were like, to their cost. For 
 some two days after starting out they met with no 
 accidents. But gradually they came into a very lonely 
 and desolate part of the Pyrenees. The mountains 
 rose high and bleak on each side of them, with great 
 ravines at intervals dividing them. The two youths 
 were full of life and spirit, and as they rode along 

 
 THE SMUGGLERS DAUGHTER. 89 
 
 told each other stories calculated to keep them cheer- 
 ful, and make them laugh. But as the evening stole 
 on they gradually became silent, watched the sun set, 
 with a slight tremor at their hearts (if the truth must 
 be known), and settled themselves well in their saddles 
 with their pistols in their hands. Every now and then 
 they passed one of those dreadful-looking bleak ravines, 
 and were only too thankful when they got safely by. 
 
 " I wonder if we have got to the Pass yet," said 
 Menillo to his cousin. " It is somewhere on this road, 
 I believe, and they say a very dangerous part." 
 
 " Perhaps the danger is not so great as we have been 
 told," returned Quederos laughingly. " Very often 
 people repeat travellers' tales, and they generally end 
 in nothing." 
 
 The night was closing in upon them fast as they rode 
 along, and a white mist was rising from the valley, 
 shutting off from their view the dim outline of the 
 landscape. They could no longer see any road in 
 which to guide their horses. They seemed to be 
 riding through a sea of white curling foam, and at 
 last they gave themselves up to the horses and trusted 
 to their finding the right path by instinct. All at once 
 their horses were stopped by a group of rough-looking 
 men, who grasped their bridles and demanded their 
 money. They made a vigorous resistance with their 
 weapons. But it was all of no use ; the ruffians 
 out-numbered them, and surrounded the two un- 
 fortunate youths. One of the robbers snatched the 
 pistol from the hand of Menillo, and thrust at him 
 with his dagger. He fell back mortally wounded. 
 Quederos, meanwhile, was so occupied in warding off 
 the attack of his foes, that he did not observe the fate 
 of his cousin. The bandits were nearly successful in 
 capturing him, and were struggling to bind his arms
 
 90 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 together, when suddenly a girl appeared at the corner 
 of the road, with a flaring paper lamp in her hand, 
 holding it high above her head. The lamp cast a 
 lurid light upon the mist around. 
 
 "Manuelo ! Pepe ! Juan Maria !" cried the girl, in an 
 authoritative voice, " do no more ! It is the order of 
 Don Pablo no one is to be sacrificed to-night. It is the 
 night of the Annunciation, and all life is to be spared." 
 
 The robbers had paused in their occupation of tying 
 the young Spaniard. There was a silence of a few 
 minutes, and then one of them said : 
 
 " Don Pablo's orders come late for one of us. This 
 gentleman is gone beyond human aid," pointing to the 
 body of young Menillo, which lay stretched upon the 
 ground, apparently dead. 
 
 " He has perhaps only fainted from loss of blood," 
 answered the girl. " Carry him to the tent, and I will 
 look after his wounds. Meanwhile the other young 
 man will follow me with the rest of you." 
 
 Two of the robbers seized Quederos by the wrists, 
 and marched him between them, while two carried 
 Menillo's body, and the rest followed slowly behind 
 with the horses. The girl walked quite alone in front, 
 and was treated with the greatest respect by the band 
 of rough men, who obeyed her orders implicitly and 
 without a murmur. 
 
 They went for some distance, a mile or two perhaps, 
 along a road overhung on both sides by bleak-looking 
 mountains. Suddenly, at a turn in the road, they came 
 upon a huge boulder which seemed to have been thrown 
 down from the mountain above during some dreadful 
 storm. Here the maiden stopped, and Quederos noticed 
 that there was a pathway between the boulder and the 
 mountain. The mountain looked grim and dreary as 
 the whole band stood before it ; but after a minute,
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S DAUGHTER. 91 
 
 during which the girl knocked once, twice, and thrice, 
 slowly and with a pause after each knock, the grey stone 
 of the mountain seemed to swing back, and a low in- 
 clined path was seen descending as it were into the 
 very centre of the earth. They entered, and after a 
 few minutes came into a wide low room hollowed out 
 in the rock. A fire glowed in a large brasier in the 
 centre, and the men crowded round it to warm them- 
 selves, while an old and decrepit man hastened to pre- 
 pare food for them. 
 
 The smugglers began talking all together, boasting of 
 their exploits in a dialect unknown to Quederos, ges- 
 ticulating wildly. Meanwhile, the men who carried 
 the body of his comrade walked to the farther end of 
 the vaulted chamber, where the girl was sitting alone, 
 and at a motion from her laid him down. As his eyes 
 became more accustomed to the gloom of the place, 
 Quederos found that the cave was roughly divided off 
 by curtains and brilliant stuffs into three rooms ; the 
 one in which they were then assembled being the largest 
 and more especially the common room, for here and 
 there in the corners were bundles of hay laid down 
 as if for beds for the men. On one of these roughly 
 made beds Menillo was laid, and the girl went into an 
 inner room and immediately returned with a beautifully 
 wrought bottle. Pouring a little of the contents into 
 her hand, she began chafing the wrists and hands of 
 Menillo. Finding that this had no effect, she undid the 
 waistcoat of the young man, and felt his heart. 
 
 " It beats still," she murmured to herself. "There is 
 still hope. O Santa Maria ! save us from committing 
 murder on this holy night." 
 
 So saying, she rubbed a little of the liquid round 
 Menillo's mouth, and held the bottle under his nose. 
 He heaved a long deep sigh, which was almost a groan.
 
 92 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 At a word from the girl two men advanced, and open- 
 ing his shirt, found a long uneven jagged wound just 
 under the left breast. 
 
 " That is the Hunchback's mark. There is no chance 
 for his life, sefiora, for that knife has a poisoned blade," 
 the men cried. 
 
 She, however, did not give up hope for a long time. 
 She patiently bathed the wound and stanched the blood 
 which flowed fast and freely from it. Quederos assisted 
 her as well as he could. He saw at once that his 
 cousin's life was ebbing slowly away. And at last, 
 finding all her efforts unavailing, the girl turned to him 
 and said in a low voice : 
 
 " He is dying, I fear." 
 
 " He is dead !" returned Quederos. 
 
 The girl turned quickly towards the bed. It was too 
 true. The jaw had dropped, and the slow laboured 
 breathing had stopped. Menillo was beyond all human 
 help. 
 
 In his anxiety about his cousin, Quederos had for- 
 gotten that he himself had been wounded in the fray. 
 But now, when all the excitement was over, he began 
 to feel faint ; the room and the figures of the men 
 crouching about the brasier turned round with him, 
 and he would have fallen on the ground had not the 
 girl standing near him caught him in her arms. In a 
 moment, without calling for aid, she poured a little of 
 the liquid from the beautiful bottle into his mouth, and 
 in a few minutes he bcame conscious enough to know 
 that he was leaning against her for support. As soon 
 as she saw him open his eyes she called to the two men 
 who had helped her with Menillo, and ordered them to 
 put Quederos to bed at once. In an instant they lifted 
 him off his feet, and carried him into another room. 
 Here it was cooler. All the furniture was handsome, 

 
 THE SMUGGLERS DAUGHTER. 93 
 
 and the room was fitted up as a bedroom. The men 
 undressed him, and under the girl's direction put on 
 a poultice of healing herbs, and bound up his wounds 
 as though they were used to that kind of work. Their 
 touch, though they were rough-looking men, was tender 
 and gentle, and Quederos, worn out with his long day's 
 journey, the excitement of the skirmish with the rob- 
 bers, his cousin's death, and his own wounds, was 
 soothed by the soft herb poultice, and fell almost im- 
 mediately into a deep sleep. How long he slept he 
 did not know ; but when he awoke, the room was still 
 lighted up by torchlight, and instead of the young girl 
 who had attended to his wounds, a handsome, grey- 
 bearded old man sat in a large chair opposite his bed, 
 reading a pile of letters which lay on his knee. Beside 
 him on the bed were the papers and purse of Quederos. 
 For some time Quederos studied the face of the man 
 opposite him with much attention, but an involuntary 
 movement on his part betrayed the fact that he was 
 awake, and in an instant the old man had clutched the 
 letters, papers and property, and rose to his feet. 
 
 "Ah, my young friend," he exclaimed, "you are 
 feeling better for your long sleep, I am sure !" Then 
 feeling his pulse, he said in a low voice, " Weak, but 
 decidedly improving. Manuela knew what she was 
 about when she saw to your wounds. In a few days 
 we shall have you up and about." 
 
 Quederos wondered at first who he was, but in a few 
 minutes he knew that he was in the presence of the 
 chief-smuggler, the captain of the band, for Manuela 
 lifted the curtain and addressed the old gentleman as 
 " Don Pablo " and " Padre." 
 
 After a few minutes' conversation in the strange 
 dialect which the men had used to each other the night 
 before, Don Pablo rose, and with a smile said :
 
 94 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " I will now leave you to be cared for by Manuela, 
 and these " waving the papers and purse in the air 
 " I shall keep in safety for you till you are strong 
 enough to need them." 
 
 Manuela then called the two men who had put him 
 in bed the night before, and aided them to dress his 
 wounds. When they had retired, and he was once 
 more comfortable in his bed, he said to Manuela : 
 
 " I suppose Don Pablo will keep those papers and 
 my purse for ever. What does he want them for ?" 
 
 " I cannot hope for one instant that you will ever 
 get them again," returned Manuela coolly. " He will 
 use them for your ransom, and if he fails in getting 
 what is demanded, you will never need them any more." 
 
 This sounded rather sinister, but Quederos smiled 
 inwardly as he remembered how many there were in 
 Spain who cared for his life, and who would rescue him 
 if it were possible. 
 
 " Who is Don Pablo ?" he said feebly. 
 
 " He is known in the outer world as the famous 
 robber ' El Diablo,' " the girl answered sadly. 
 
 Quederos started from his bed, falling back again 
 with a groan as his wounds opened afresh. Manuela 
 quietly bound them up again without calling for further 
 aid, and in a few minutes Quederos recovered. After a 
 long silence he said : 
 
 " Senorita, do you like the life you must lead here ?" 
 
 " Like it ?" cried Manuela, rising from her chair, 
 with horror in her face, and raising her arms to heaven 
 " Like it ? Santa Virgen ! I HATE it ! I LOATHE it ! 
 I DESPISE it ! But what can I do ? I can go nowhere 
 without being tracked, and who would help Manuela, 
 El Diablo's daughter, in the outer world ? Who would 
 give her a helping hand, and hide her from the knife of 
 the Hunchback ?" 

 
 THE SMUGGLER'S DAUGHTER. 95 
 
 " I would," said Quederos, in a solemn voice. 
 " You would ?" she whispered. " But you are still a 
 prisoner, and how can you help me ?" 
 
 " I shall not be long in bondage," said Quederos, 
 with a smile. " My people are powerful and rich, and 
 they will not leave me here long for want of a large 
 ransom." 
 
 How often in the after-days he regretted this con- 
 fidence ! For behind the curtains stood Don Pablo, 
 and he, listening to the conversation, acted according 
 to his information. 
 
 Manuela's face had a terrified look upon it as Que- 
 deros said those words, and with a curious gesture she 
 gave him to understand that there were listeners all 
 around them. She began arranging the bedclothes, 
 and as she tucked them round his neck she formed the 
 words with her lips, " Be careful what you say, and 
 speak by gestures." 
 
 From that time Quederos was the most silent of 
 men. Although he lay ill and wounded in his bed for 
 more than a month, he was hardly ever heard to say a 
 word in conversation. But he had many chances of 
 gesture-talking with Manuela, and he became much 
 interested in her. 
 
 She was tall and slight, with finely cut features, a 
 rather stolid expression of face, but the most beautiful, 
 soft, liquid eyes, like those of a gazelle. Her dress was 
 of a flowing, loose shape, and her magnificent hair 
 hung down her back almost to her feet, under a small 
 silk cap ornamented with gold coins. Her hands were 
 small and of a peculiarly pretty shape, and her feet 
 were shod in soft satin slippers. 
 
 She was so handy and helpful, and made so many 
 hours pass pleasantly for him in his weariness and pain, 
 that when she was sometimes absent Quederos missed
 
 96 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 her sadly, and was always more fretful and difficult to 
 manage when she was not by. Now and again he saw 
 her father, the handsome old chief who had listened 
 behind the hangings. But there came a time when 
 a lull seemed to fall upon the company. Manuela 
 stayed longer and came oftener to see him. Only two 
 or three of the men appeared at this time. At last 
 Quederos could not understand the entire silence 
 throughout the cave, and by gestures demanded of 
 Manuela, when she came to see to his comfort the last 
 thing before she retired herself, what had happened 
 that such a dead silence reigned throughout the 
 cave. 
 
 " The whole party," she motioned with her lips, 
 " are gone to meet a troop of travellers, laden with 
 precious things, who are on their way to France. They 
 may be gone a day or so, or they may be gone a week ; 
 perhaps more. My father, meanwhile, is negotiating 
 with your people, seiior, for your ransom. They do 
 not seem to like the sum named, which is large, and is 
 owing to your indiscreet words the other night." 
 
 " When will your father return ?" Quederos in- 
 quired, in the same quiet manner. 
 
 " I do not know," she replied. " Probably soon 
 but he will be in a bad temper if the negotiations do 
 not turn out as he wishes." 
 
 During these few days of quiet, the two lovers (for 
 they had become such and nothing less) had a very 
 pleasant interval of undisturbed happiness. They could 
 communicate with each other freely without fear of in- 
 terruption. But this interlude lasted only a short time. 
 One day, one awful day, the chief returned. Diego, 
 the slave, clapped his hands as a signal to Manuela 
 that her father had come. In an instant she had left 
 Quederos' side (for he was now able to sit up a little 

 
 THE SMUGGLERS DAUGHTER. 97 
 
 while), and was in the room, which served as the 
 common apartment, to receive her father. 
 
 His face was stern, and his voice harsh and angry, 
 as he gave orders to the different servants. Then he 
 kissed Manuela in an absent way; his thoughts were 
 evidently far off, and he seemed hardly to realize what 
 he was doing. Suddenly he roused himself, and calling 
 Diego, the slave, he bade him tell all he knew of the 
 movements of the band. 
 
 "There has been but little news of them, mi amo," 
 Diego said, with a trembling voice. " They were going 
 to meet a party of travellers, and bring them here, 
 lightened of many of their burdens. Once only we 
 have seen the branch slanted, and since then we have 
 heard nothing." 
 
 Manuela had stood silently beside her father's side 
 while Diego said these words. After a moment's 
 thought, Don Pablo turned to her and said : " And 
 you, have you anything to tell me ?" 
 
 "Only this," replied Manuela, in a low voice "only 
 this ;" at the same time she handed him the branch of 
 an oak, on which were three deep red marks and a 
 roughly cut cross. 
 
 Diego uttered a cry of despair, and wrung his hands. 
 Even Don Pablo was moved and agitated, for he 
 started as his eyes fell on the cross. Manuela cried 
 silently as she looked on. 
 
 " When did this come ?" asked Don Pablo, in a 
 hurried whisper. 
 
 " I found it in the usual place when I went for water 
 this afternoon," she replied, also in a whisper. 
 
 " How many men were in this expedition ?" 
 
 " All, except Diego and the two Basques." 
 
 " Then no time must be lost. Diego, go by the 
 covered passage to El Rubio, and tell him to send all 
 
 7
 
 98 SPANISH LEGEND A RY TA LES. 
 
 the men he can spare, at once, for they are wanted by 
 El Diablo." 
 
 Diego disappeared like an arrow. Manuela still stood 
 at a little distance from her father, and watched him 
 anxiously as he stared at vacancy with knitted brows 
 and a steady ga/e. He had apparently forgotten all 
 about her, for he muttered out loud to himself: 
 " Things are working terribly against us. The whole 
 band are in imminent danger unless help can reach 
 them soon. Those dogs of police are in full scent, and 
 are tracking us down. Then that precious prisoner of 
 ours is being searched for ; and his people, instead of 
 paying his ransom, prefer to threaten us, and have set 
 half Spain and France upon us. If anything happens to 
 the band, his life shall pay for it, ransom or no ransom ; 
 and only his dead body shall return to his family " 
 
 A very slight movement of the curtain disturbed Don 
 Pablo in his thoughts. He strode across the room, 
 lifted the curtain, and looked around. Not a soul was 
 to be seen. 
 
 "Manuela!" he cried "Manuela! where in the 
 name of the foul fiend are you ?" 
 
 " I am preparing your supper, mi padre," answered, 
 a distant voice, and presently Manuela appeared with 
 a puchero in one hand and a plate in the other. 
 " What is the matter ?" she said very quietly, as she 
 placed the food before him. 
 
 He seized her by the wrists, and turned her face to 
 the firelight of the brasier, and scanned it fiercely. 
 She was a trifle pale, but that was all. Her clear 
 bright eyes returned his searching look fearlessly, and 
 not a feature of her face flinched. The firmly set 
 mouth and chin seemed cast in marble, as she stood 
 almost defiantly before the angry chief. 
 
 " If I thought," he said slowly" if I thought that 

 
 THE SMUGGLERS DAUGHTER. 99 
 
 you were capable of betraying us or our secrets, I would 
 kill you with my own hand as you stand there before 
 my eyes, with that innocent look upon your face." 
 
 Then he slowly released her, and began eating his 
 puchero (stew). She served him, removed the dishes, 
 and seemed to be absorbed in his welfare. But her 
 mind was in a whirl, quiet though she appeared ex- 
 ternally. She was wondering how she could make her 
 lover understand the circumstances of the case and 
 the danger which threatened him indeed, which 
 threatened both of them. For whatever touched or 
 hurt him reacted upon her. His life had become dearer 
 to her than her own. Something must be done, and 
 that soon, for she had overheard enough of her father's 
 spoken thoughts to know that the band was in great 
 danger, perhaps cut to pieces and destroyed by this 
 time, and that their surprise and attack was mainly 
 due to the active exertions of Quederos's family, who 
 had set the authorities upon their track. She must 
 manage to warn him, but her father was especially 
 watchful of her movements that evening, and it was not 
 until she took him his night draught that she was able 
 to say a word to her lover. She had passed through 
 his room holding the marked branch in her hand, a 
 signal which she had taught him meant danger. As 
 soon as she heard her father's snores as he lay back 
 worn out with the fatigues and anxieties of his journey, 
 she went to Quederos, and said with her lips : 
 
 " You must get up and dress. If the band is 
 destroyed, your life will pay for it ; and I am powerless 
 to save you. Now I can take you by an underground 
 passage to a place of safety, from which you can make 
 your way home." 
 
 He did what she bid him, though, weak as he was, 
 he trembled in every limb. When he was ready she 
 
 72
 
 i oo SPA ATS 77 LEGEND A R Y TA LES. 
 
 tied a coloured handkerchief round his head, placed a 
 bundle of Spanish tablecloths over his shoulder, and 
 opening a door, of which he had till then been perfectly 
 ignorant, led him carefully along a dark pathway for 
 three or four hundred yards. Then they emerged into 
 a curved passage lighted up at intervals with torches, 
 so that they could make out their way. Every now 
 and then they thought they heard voices, and Manuela 
 would gently push Quederos into one or other of the 
 rifts (with which the walls of the cave were seamed) 
 and go on a few steps herself. But no one disturbed 
 them ; and at last, after a long journey, during which 
 Manuela supported Quederos from time to time, they 
 came to the mouth of the cave. 
 
 This Manuela opened, and let her lover out, after 
 carefully looking up and down the road to see if any- 
 one were in sight. In a few minutes she waved a white 
 handkerchief, the signal that all was safe. At the bend 
 of the road she turned to him and said : 
 
 " My darling, we must part here." 
 
 "But surely you are coming with me!" he cried. 
 " You could not be so cruel as to leave me ; and I 
 could not leave you to meet your father's anger alone. 
 Rather would I die also 
 
 " No, no," she said, with a smile. " The only thing 
 you can do to help me is to come back with a great 
 troop of soldiers. I could not desert my father. I 
 would by that time have placed him and his in safety, 
 and I shall be ready to accompany you. But do not 
 betray my father," she cried quickly. "Say only that 
 I am a maiden in bondage in a cave." Placing a 
 wallet of provisions on his shoulder, she pointed out 
 the road. "Turn jto the right at the first turning and 
 keep straight on, and you will soon be over the border 
 into Spain. Adios, adios !"
 
 THE SMUGGLER'S DAUGHTER. 101 
 
 Then with a long kiss and an assurance that he would 
 soon return for her, they parted ; and Quederos saw 
 the door of the cave shut behind the woman he loved 
 best in the world before he started upon his journey 
 home. In less than twenty-four hours he was at home ; 
 and it was not long before he was travelling upon the 
 same route, but on horseback this time, and accom- 
 panied by a large guard of soldiers. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Don Pablo meanwhile had waked from his sleep, 
 and saying to himself, " Now for my prisoner," had 
 gone to his guest's room. But the room was empty; 
 the bird had flown. Mad with rage he went to his 
 daughter's room, and on the way stumbled over the 
 bodies of the two Basque servants, snoring loudly upon 
 the floor. Manuela was not to be found. 
 
 " Fools, dogs, blind pigs !" he cried to the servants 
 as they stood trembling before him ; " do you not see 
 that both the prisoner and my daughter have made 
 their escape while you have been sleeping ?" Then, 
 having thrashed and cuffed them till he was tired, he 
 tied them by their wrists to two rings in the walls, from 
 which their feet could hardly touch the ground. " You 
 may stay there and swing till my return," he said, as 
 he left them. The two poor wretches gave many a loud 
 cry of anguish, as they hung in this painful position, 
 and saw their tormentor disappearing into the darkness. 
 
 When Don Pablo came to the curved passage he 
 stopped, for he saw a figure which looked like 
 Manuela's coming towards him from the farthest end. 
 When she came very near to the corner where he was 
 standing, Don Pablo suddenly confronted her. She 
 started and turned pale. 
 
 " Where is Quederos ?" he said sternly. 
 
 " Gone to his home," Manuela said quietly.
 
 102 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " And you helped him to escape, I suppose ?" her 
 father questioned in a mocking way. 
 
 " I did," was the low reply. " I love him, and I 
 have saved him." 
 
 " Traitress that thou art !" cried Don Pablo, white 
 with rage. "Take what thou deservest !" and he gave 
 her a blow in the face which brought the blood gush- 
 ing from her nose and mouth, and felled her to the 
 ground. In a moment more the glitter of a knife was 
 seen in the air, and he had stabbed Manuela mortally. 
 
 " Die, false one !" he said, as he gave the blow. 
 
 She raised herself by a superhuman effort, and 
 gasped out, " Save thyself and thine for he promised 
 not to return for two days to give thee time to 
 
 escape I have not betrayed thee " and with a 
 
 groan she fell back dead. 
 
 When Don Pablo saw what he had done, he recoiled 
 with horror especially as he heard her last words, 
 which showed that she had tried to protect him to the 
 last. For a long time he seemed as though he were 
 paralyzed, looking at the dead body of Manuela lying 
 at his feet. But finally he remembered that she had 
 said that Quederos had promised her forty-eight hours 
 for safety before proceeding against him. There was 
 therefore no time to be lost. He could not stop to bury 
 the body of Manuela, but after stretching and com- 
 posing her limbs he left her lying where she had fallen. 
 As he was going away, however, the love of greed and 
 of glittering things overcame him, and returning to her 
 side he took off the gold coins hanging on her forehead 
 and the jewels of every kind upon her person. Then 
 he hurried away, and left his dead for Quederos to bury. 
 
 He found the slaves crying out with pain from their 
 punishment, and hastened to cut them down. 
 
 " Dogs of slaves !" he said, as they tried, in spite of 

 
 THE SMUGGLER'S DAUGHTER. 103 
 
 their painful and swollen ankles, to stand upright before 
 him, "we must leave this cave for another more secure. 
 Put the brasiers out as nearly as possible, and remove 
 all necessary treasures quickly, for the hell-hounds are 
 upon us." 
 
 The jewels and coins in his hands told the slaves in 
 a twinkling what had been the fate of Manuela. 
 
 In a few hours the little company had escaped, after 
 putting a withered branch marked with a cross and a 
 dagger across the mouth of the cave opening on the 
 road to Gavarnie. 
 
 The cave was empty, and only the torches in the 
 curved passage flared down upon the upturned muti- 
 lated face of Manuela, the daughter of El Diablo. 
 ****** 
 
 The horrible fate of his love fired Quederos with 
 such rage and hatred, that he and his troops were not 
 long in tracking the band of smugglers and robbers 
 among whom he had passed so many weeks. 
 
 They were brought to Spain and tried. El Diablo 
 and three or four of the ringleaders were executed, the 
 rest being imprisoned for life. 
 
 Not far from the Spanish border, between that and 
 the spot where she and Quederos parted for the last 
 time, stands a small black cross, bearing the name of 
 Manuela. When they found her in the passage of the 
 cave, Quederos and his men buried her tenderly 
 among the mountains where her life had been passed, 
 and which she had loved so well ; and only the little 
 cross marks the spot where lie the mortal remains of 
 the smuggler's daughter.
 
 X. 
 
 DON RODRIGO LADRON. 
 
 BEFORE the war of Granada was begun by Ysabella 
 the Catholic, there was an interval of peace and rest, 
 during which both she and Ferdinand were able to 
 make certain important modifications in the plan 
 of reform which they kept constantly in view, and 
 which occupied them nearly all Ysabella's lifetime. 
 The first was one of the most important : viz., the 
 proper administration of justice. During the anarchy of 
 Henry IV. 's reign the authority of the king and judges 
 had fallen into such contempt that the law had no 
 force whatever. The inhabitants of the cities were 
 no safer than if they lived in the open country. 
 Every man's hand was against his neighbour. Pro- 
 perty was plundered, murders committed, coaches were 
 stopped, and the numerous fortresses scattered broad- 
 cast through the land were employed as strongholds 
 for robbers and cut-throats. 
 
 Late in the fifteenth century there lived a certain 
 judge of Castro-Nunez, named Carlos de Mendana, 
 who spread terror wherever he went with his horde of 
 bandits. He had so many strongholds in his possession 
 that he compelled the cities of Burgos, Valladolid, 
 Segovia, Salamanca, Avila, and others, to pay him 
 tribute for the protection of their territory. He was 
 also one among many, but perhaps the strongest, of
 
 DON RODRIGO LAD RON. 105 
 
 the knightly freebooters. He was not always cruel, 
 however, but a Spanish Robin Hood, being kind to the 
 poor, though robbing the rich, and sometimes even 
 releasing his victims for a mere whim. He was known 
 all over Spain as Don Rodrigo the Robber-Chief, and 
 only his intimates and followers knew that Carlos de 
 Mendana and Don Rodrigo Ladron were one and the 
 same. 
 
 There are many stories told about the exploits of this 
 daring robber, but the following is one of the best. 
 
 Toro is the capital of the small province of the same 
 name, and although now so dilapidated and decayed, 
 was in the old days a city of some importance. Don 
 Pedro entered it in 1356, to put down a rebellion. 
 Near it was fought the battle between Alonso V. and 
 Ferdinand, which gave the crown of Castile to Ysabella, 
 and destroyed all the hopes of her niece, Juana La Bel- 
 traneja. Here also, after Ysabella's death, the celebrated 
 Cortes was held which gave the reins of government 
 over Castile into Ferdinand's hands. The town has a 
 fine bridge and a pleasant promenade, from which can 
 be seen the Almenas de Toro, whose praises Lope de 
 Vega has sung. .^CA +-+3j^, i-K> c '^ c< 
 
 From Toro," one cold evening in December, there 
 started a coach for Valladolid. .The places were all 
 taken, apparently, by people well-to-do in the world, 
 and worth robbing for they all carried knives, as if 
 prepared to defend their property and lives. The 
 road from Toro to Tordesillas was famous then for being 
 infested with robbers. Among the company travelling 
 in the coach were an old lady and her niece ; the former 
 very nervous and timid, the latter handsome, blue- 
 eyed and brown-haired. Carmen de Rojas was an 
 orphan. Her father, the Conde de Rojas, was of a noble 
 family in Toledo, where he had died, leaving his mother-
 
 io6 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 less and now orphaned daughter to the care of her aunt 
 on her mother's side, and she had lived at Toro all her 
 girlhood. She was a great beauty, and eclipsed most 
 others whenever she appeared in society ; and she was 
 as good as she was beautiful. The inmates of the 
 coach, as fellow-travellers, and perhaps fellow-sufferers, 
 became communicative in the common danger. Their 
 talk was chiefly of robbers, and the narrow escapes that 
 they or their friends had had in various other journeys. 
 The night was far advanced before anyone dared to 
 close an eye ; but at last tired Nature asserted her 
 power, and soon nothing was heard but the deep 
 breathing of the passengers. 
 
 Suddenly the carriage was stopped, the driver and 
 zagal fell on their faces under the horses, and the 
 passengers were summoned to alight. Carmen de 
 Rojas awoke to find herself and her fellow-travellers 
 surrounded by a crowd of men with fierce, dark, wicked 
 faces, who were pillaging the company as quickly as 
 possible. Carmen and her aunt stood a little apart 
 from the rest, and were the last to be searched. Car- 
 men thus had a chance to make her observations. 
 After the first few minutes she could just make out 
 in the darkness the dim outlines of a man on horseback, 
 who stood awaiting the result of the robbery, apparently 
 without taking any part in it himself. He seemed to 
 be a person of authority, for every now and then he gave 
 to the robbers orders, which were obeyed, although 
 sometimes reluctantly. 
 
 At last it came to the turn of Carmen and her aunt 
 to be examined. The light of the lantern fell full upon 
 her lovely frightened face. Her eyes were like forget- 
 me-nots, and wide open with fear ; her face was as 
 white as the driven snow ; but, in spite of her terror, 
 she struggled with the robbers and defied them. 

 
 DON RODRIGO LADRON. 107 
 
 " I have nothing worthy of the attention and designs 
 of these senores," she said, drawing herself up haugh- 
 tily, " neither has my aunt ; and the first man that 
 
 touches either her or me, vaya " and the glitter 
 
 of a long knife flashed in the light. 
 
 The sound of argument and strife caught the atten- 
 tion of the robber-chief concealed by the darkness. 
 He saw the young girlish figure defending her aunt and 
 herself, and wondered that anyone so delicate and 
 slight should dare to do what none of the men of 
 the party had ventured to suggest defy their de- 
 spoilers. A great pity overcame him ; and as the first 
 robber advanced towards the girl the deep voice of 
 the invisible chief said, from the darkness : 
 
 " Leave the senoras alone ! we do not hurt women 
 and children." 
 
 With much reluctance the robbers abandoned their 
 prey, and the travellers were allowed to take their 
 places in the coach again. 
 
 The gentlemen who had been rifled of every valuable 
 that they possessed, in spite of their murderous-looking 
 weapons, showed their dissatisfaction at the distinction 
 made between them and the two ladies ; one going so 
 far as to express his anger in words : 
 
 " Had I known that women and children were exempt 
 from these robbers," he said spitefully, taking off his hat 
 to Carmen, " I should have passed over my worldly 
 goods to the senorita's care." 
 
 "So would I," murmured the rest under their breath. 
 
 Carmen looked at them with flashing eyes : 
 
 " Senores," she said, with a low bow, " if you had 
 had the spirit of a girl of nineteen, you would have saved 
 your worldly goods, and prevented two women from 
 being attacked." 
 
 The rest of the journey to Tordesillas was performed
 
 loS SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 in silence. The travellers eyed Carmen and her aunt 
 with much distrust, as if they were in league with the 
 robbers. 
 
 At Tordesillas two of the passengers got out, and 
 two strangers got into the coach. One had a fierce 
 and exceedingly coarse face, full of sensuality and 
 wickedness. The other, who sat next the door of the 
 conveyance, was a remarkably handsome man, a little 
 past his prime, perhaps, and showing traces of care and 
 anxiety on his face, but with kindly eyes which smiled 
 at you a smile that fascinated all who saw it. 
 
 He seemed to know all the country by heart, and 
 pointed out all the interesting places to his fellow- 
 travellers, who were much attracted to him. He was 
 told all the particulars of their robbery by the sufferers, 
 who took care that he should hear the distinction made 
 between them and the women, and he was not slow in 
 perceiving how much they had made the ladies suffer 
 for the unlooked-for courtesy which they had received 
 at the hands of the robbers. His companion during 
 this conversation could hardly restrain his mirth, and 
 often broke out into open laughter. There was some- 
 thing in the tone of the new traveller's voice which re- 
 minded Carmen of the voice which had come from the 
 darkness, and had directed the robbers in their work. 
 She turned and looked full in his face ; but the kindly 
 eyes, pleasant smile, and courtly ways of the stranger 
 disarmed all suspicion. His eyes told her that he ad- 
 mired her, and as he addressed all his remarks to her, 
 the fact soon became evident to all the company. 
 
 Nothing alarming occurred until the coach passed 
 Ponte Duero. Between Ponte Duero and Valladolid 
 there is a bare and lonely patch of country, like so 
 many that exist in Spain. Here again the coach was 
 stopped, the driver and zagal as before threw them- 

 
 DON RODRIGO LADRON. 109 
 
 selves under their horses' bellies, and a robber came to 
 the door to request the passengers to alight. The 
 stranger near the door touched the robber on the wrist. 
 The moment that their eyes met, the robber changed 
 colour, stammered, and begged pardon. 
 
 " Shall I show you my passport ?" inquired the 
 stranger, with a most engaging smile. 
 
 " Pardon me, senor," replied the robber, " it is not 
 necessary." 
 
 The coach was permitted to proceed without more 
 delay, and they reached Valladolid without any further 
 annoyance. 
 
 " I wish we had had you with us when we were 
 attacked the last time," said the man who had insulted 
 Carmen. 
 
 " I wish I had been/' returned the stranger, with a 
 smile ; and his companion laughed outright, such a long 
 and loud laugh that the rest of the company stared at 
 him in amazement. 
 
 The stranger, after breaking the ice with Carmen de 
 Rojas by admiring her, ventured to speak to her 
 directly ; and gradually they got communicative. He 
 discovered in the course of conversation that she was 
 the niece of the rich banker De Rojas in Valladolid. 
 
 " De Rojas," he cried, when he heard the name, 
 " why, he is an old friend of mine ! Give him this 
 card. I am going to Valladolid, and will do myself the 
 pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with him." 
 
 Carmen promised that she would give the message. 
 Living in a simple and retired way in Toro, she had 
 never heard of Carlos de Mendana. She put the card 
 in her pocket, and very shortly after they arrived in 
 Valladolid. 
 
 Several weeks passed before Carmen saw her fellow- 
 traveller again. She had given the card and message
 
 no SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 to her uncle, who turned pale when he saw the name, 
 she thought. But it might have been only her fancy. 
 
 Carlos de Mendana never forgot a promise, and one 
 fine day, many weeks after the uncle of Carmen began 
 to breathe again, he appeared, much to the amazement 
 and discomfort of De Rojas. 
 
 "Ah," cried De Mendana, "and we meet thus after 
 so many years ! You turned traitor, did you ? And 
 tried to get us all hanged but yourself ? Well, we are 
 still alive, in spite of your amiable intentions, and 
 intend to keep alive without your permission." 
 
 " Hush !" said the Conde de Rojas in a whisper, 
 shutting the door of his room. " I only did what I 
 thought would be for my own interests to save my 
 neck. But do not tell my niece." 
 
 " Do not mention your niece's name in the same 
 breath with that villainous transaction," said De Men- 
 dana. " She is too pure and sweet to be brought into 
 our guilty transactions. And yet I blood-stained, 
 guilty wretch though I am love her, and have claimed 
 acquaintance with you again for her sake. Let me try 
 to win her for my wife, De Rojas : put no obstacle in 
 my way, and I swear not to tell her of your treachery, 
 nor to damage you in any way. She shall never know 
 of your former share in our enterprise, nor shall she 
 suspect my occupation as long as I live." 
 
 The Conde de Rojas pondered long and deeply over 
 this solution of his difficulties, as he paced up and 
 down the long room like a caged animal. De Men- 
 dana meanwhile sat at the table, drumming impatiently 
 with his ringers, and watching his victim narrowly. 
 
 The Conde de Rojas was a well-built, powerful- 
 looking man, with a young face and prematurely grey 
 hair. In days gone by he had been one of De 
 Mendana's troop of freebooters, and one of the most
 
 DON RODRIGO LADRON. in 
 
 reckless and pitiless of the band. They had all been 
 engaged in a terrible murder and highway robbery, and 
 were relentlessly pursued and tracked by the " Santa 
 Hermandad," or Holy Brotherhood, which Ysabella 
 had re-established in order to check the unbounded 
 license of the noble freebooters. Juan Conde de 
 Rojas was taken prisoner, and to save his neck he 
 betrayed the hiding-places of many of his comrades, 
 who had fled to their mountain fortresses for safety, 
 and who were punished with death. Until now, he had 
 contrived to avoid meeting his former chief, Carlos de 
 Mendana. But unfortunately love had upset all his 
 calculations, and here he was in the power of his old 
 master, who had never been known to forgive or forget. 
 By giving his niece in marriage to him, he could buy 
 off his own freedom and be safe from all attacks from 
 his former comrades, and yet retain the reverence and 
 love of his niece, who was the apple of his eye, and 
 who returned his affection with all the devotion of a 
 simple and loving heart. Carlos de Mendana had 
 never been known to break a promise once given. And 
 yet and yet Juan de Rojas was loath to buy his 
 freedom at such a price to give his darling into the 
 care of so guilty a wretch as Carlos de Mendana. 
 
 After a severe struggle with himself, during which 
 his former chief watched him with a sarcastic smile 
 upon his face, he consented, and an agreement in 
 writing was duly drawn up and signed, in which Juan 
 de Rojas promised to give Carmen in marriage to 
 Mendana, on condition that she should never know 
 her husband's profession as chief of a horde of robbers, 
 nor should she ever be told of the share Juan de Rojas 
 had had in their former exploits, nor of his treacherous 
 conduct towards them. 
 
 Carmen saw a great deal of De Mendana during her
 
 1 12 SPANISH LEGEND AR Y TALES. 
 
 stay at her uncle's house, and became more and more 
 attracted by him as she came to know him. He could 
 be very charming and winning when he liked, and as 
 he laid himself out to please, he succeeded so well that 
 the girl had learned to love him before she became 
 aware of the fact herself. Therefore she offered no 
 resistance when she was told rather abruptly one 
 morning by her uncle that he had chosen the Conde 
 de Mendana for her husband. 
 
 The marriage took place almost immediately, on 
 account of pressing business which recalled him to 
 Castro-Nunez, so Carlos de Mendana told her, and the 
 ceremony was performed very quietly and unosten- 
 tatiously, considering the worldly rank of both parties. 
 But Carmen de Rojas cared very little for outward 
 show, and never thought it strange that there was so 
 much hurry and secrecy about their wedding. She 
 loved her husband with all her strong young heart, and 
 he devoted himself to her with an ardour and tender- 
 ness which amazed Juan de Rojas, who had not seen 
 that side of his character, and never dreamed that 
 tenderness and love could exist in a man whom he had 
 seen so unscrupulous and relentless. But Carmen's 
 aunt wondered why no grand festivities were given on 
 such an occasion by so wealthy a family of Valladolid. 
 However, she kept her wonder to herself, and travelled 
 back as far as Toro in the coach with the newly 
 married pair. Carmen, of course, went farther on to 
 Castro-Nunez, and it was a curious circumstance that 
 the coach in which they travelled met with no accidents 
 by the way, while the coach before them and that 
 which followed them were rifled, and some of the 
 passengers who resisted were murdered. 
 
 For several years they lived very happily at Castro- 
 Nunez. They had four lovely children, and Carmen was
 
 DON RODRIGO LADRON. 113 
 
 as happy as the day was long. Carlos de Mendana 
 was so devotedly fond of his beautiful wife that for her 
 dear sake he gave up all personal share in the pursuits 
 of his followers, contenting himself with his duties at 
 Castro-Nunez, and directing his henchmen either by 
 message or by personal conversation. 
 
 Carmen sometimes wondered who the curiously wild 
 and suspicious-looking characters could be who came 
 to the castle as intimate friends of her husband, and 
 who always asked for Don Rodrigo. This mysterious 
 personage seemed to be the chief of her husband, for 
 though he was never visible, Carlos always seemed to 
 be informed of his plans and his orders, and Don 
 Rodrigo seemed to be much revered and obeyed 
 by his friends. For several years, as we have said 
 before, Carlos de Mendana avoided all personal col- 
 lisions with the " Santa Hermandad," who were doing 
 their duties as administrators of justice. But at last a 
 fray took place between them and the followers of Don 
 Rodrigo, in which so many of the latter were made 
 prisoners and executed that De Mendana felt in honour 
 bound to expose himself to the dangers into which he 
 had unwittingly led them. So telling Carmen that he 
 was called away to the assistance of Don Rodrigo, and 
 that he might not return for some time, he departed, 
 after a very tender farewell to her and the children. 
 
 During his absence, Carmen's aunt came to visit her. 
 For a month Carmen had heard nothing of her husband. 
 She became anxious, and after bearing her suspense 
 as bravely as she could alone, the tension became so 
 intolerable that she determined to speak to her aunt. 
 She told her that Carlos had gone to assist his friend, 
 and added innocently, " I wonder who Don Rodrigo 
 can be, to whom Carlos and his friends are so 
 devoted." 
 
 8
 
 1 14 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Her aunt stared, and said when the speech was 
 repeated : 
 
 " WHO did you say ? Don Rodrigo ? Why, he is 
 a famous robber-chief, well known all over Spain for 
 his misdeeds. And do Carlos and his friends associate 
 with HIM ?" 
 
 This revelation distressed Carmen very much. She 
 wished that she had not asked the question, for if Don 
 Rodrigo was a robber-chief and Carlos an intimate 
 friend of his, it did not speak well for Carlos to be 
 associating with him. Her anxiety increased, and 
 made her really ill as the days wore on and no news 
 came from Carlos. At last one night, under cover of 
 the darkness, a man whom she had never seen before 
 asked to see her, as he had a message about Don 
 Rodrigo for her. 
 
 He was fierce-looking by nature, but his face was 
 white and ghastly as well. He had an ugly, half- 
 healed scar across his cheek, and was dusty and weary 
 with hard riding. Moreover, he had an anxious, sad 
 expression upon his face, which contrasted strangely 
 with his otherwise hardened appearance. Carmen in- 
 stinctively felt a horror of the man, and drew back from 
 him towards the door. He noticed it. 
 
 " You need not be afraid," he said, with a weary 
 smile; "the widow of Don Rodrigo, my best friend, 
 need fear nothing from me or from his friends. Don 
 Rodrigo is dead, and they are bringing his corpse home 
 to be buried." 
 
 " But I do not know Don Rodrigo " stammered 
 
 Carmen. 
 
 " Oh yes, you do," interrupted the man ; " only too 
 well, alas ! only too well, and I am sorry for you." 
 
 Carmen's heart beat fast, and she could not control 
 her agitation. A great dread filled her very soul with 

 
 DON RODRIGO LADRON. 1 1 5 
 
 foreboding, but she had not much time for suspense. 
 A melancholy procession wound into the courtyard of 
 the house, carrying torches and a rough kind of bier, 
 upon which lay a body covered with a cloak. The 
 men, as desperate a looking band as one could meet 
 anywhere, and rendered doubly so by the fierce glare 
 of the torches, laid down their precious burden with 
 great care in the large hall of the castle, and with- 
 drew respectfully to a distance, while Carmen advanced 
 to remove the cloak and see what Don Rodrigo looked 
 like. She knelt, lifted the cover, and fell with a shriek 
 upon the body. The hall echoed with the shriek, and 
 everyone rushed forward to assist and comfort the 
 beautiful distracted widow of Rodrigo. In vain they 
 tried to raise her. In that shriek life had departed. 
 Carlos de Mendana had kept his word. While he 
 lived Carmen de Rojas never knew that she was the 
 wife of Don Rodrigo Ladron. 
 
 82
 
 XI. 
 
 THE WERE-WOLF. 
 
 THE principality of the Asturias is a country where 
 oaks, chestnuts, and silver firs grow in the greatest 
 luxuriance. It was the mountain refuge of the ancient 
 Spaniard, who resisted and remained unconquered by 
 either the Roman or the Moor. It was the cradle of 
 the Hispano-Gothic monarchy, and was more difficult of 
 access than most parts of Spain. It was therefore less 
 exposed to Moorish invasion. The climate is damp, 
 and very cold in winter, though temperate in summer. 
 The principal business carried on there is cattle- 
 breeding. 
 
 The peasants live in the greatest freedom ; they can 
 own land and cultivate it for themselves ; and moreover 
 they are secure from robbers, who would find but poor 
 booty in such a lonely and sequestered region. The 
 farms and cottages consequently look more comfort- 
 able and well-to-do than those of the same class in 
 Galicia. / 
 
 The - following legend is one which is common to 
 many mountainous places all over the world, and was 
 told to me by one of the Basque servants who are often 
 to be found in the Pyrenees. She said : 
 
 " I was brought up in a country where forests 
 abound, -and where the road to the nearest market- 
 town lay through those deep dark glades with not
 
 
 THE WERE- WOLF. 1 1 7 
 
 a hut or a hovel anywhere near. I was the youngest 
 of thirteen children, and when most of my sisters and 
 
 S^N^/'"; ' (' <t 
 
 brothers went to Madrid and elsewhere and started in life 
 for themselves, of course a great deal of the work fell 
 upon my shoulders. I had the cattle to pasture, the 
 pigs to fatten, the fowls to feed, the fish to catch, the 
 cotton and wool to spin, and to sell in the market-town, 
 besides all the cooking and household work to do. 
 At one time my father was absent on business. He 
 had to sell some cattle, and as very often he was obliged 
 to go a long way off before he could get the price that 
 he asked, we never expected his return until he 
 appeared. It so happened that during his absence the 
 funds ran short. My mother was more than half 
 paralyzed, and could hardly speak distinctly enough to 
 direct me in what was to be done. At length we came 
 to our last penny. The meal and flour barrels were 
 almost empty. I did not know what to do. I hardly 
 liked to leave my poor sick mother alone, or for 
 strangers to take care of; and yet, we had so little 
 to eat until my father could possibly come back that 
 a journey to the nearest market-town seemed inevit- 
 able. I put it off from day to day. I killed as many 
 of the oldest fowls as were available, and caught fish 
 in the nearest river with my hands. The winter was 
 an unusually severe one, and the weather was bitterly 
 cold. The snow was nearly two feet deep, and for- 
 tunately for me the rivers were frozen over, so that I 
 could stand on the ice, break a hole in it and stir up 
 the stiff half-frozen fish in their holes with a big stick, 
 and catch them before they had time to slip away. At 
 last, however, everything came to an end. The meal 
 and flour barrels were empty, the river was so hard 
 frozen that I could not catch the fish, and starvation 
 stared us in the face. My father did not return, and
 
 1 18 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 my mother whimpered like a sick child at the short 
 commons which I was forced to give her. One morn- 
 ing, therefore, I started off to the nearest market-town, 
 which was five miles away, for I could not see my 
 mother starve. I left her in the care of a friend, who 
 lived a mile and a half away, but who came over when 
 there was urgent need. I was well wrapped up, and 
 carried my basket of spun thread on my arm to sell. 
 It took me hours to make my way through the drifts, 
 and it was late before I turned my face towards home. 
 I had made a lucky marketing, had sold my thread for 
 quite a large sum, and with my basket full of the most 
 necessary things, and with the barrels of meal and of 
 flour promised in a couple of days, I trudged along 
 the snow-tracks as happy as a queen. It was dark 
 when I was still a couple of miles from home, and I lit 
 my lantern and trotted along without a thought of fear. 
 About a mile away from home, I met an old man 
 wrapped in a tattered brown cloak huddled up to the 
 chin, with a battered old felt hat on, and a stick. He 
 walked very lame, and looked blue with the cold. As I 
 passed him he besought me to give him something to 
 eat, as he had not tasted food that day. He looked so 
 starved, so poor, and so wretched that I broke off a 
 large piece of bread from the loaf in my basket, and 
 gave it to him. He snatched it from my hand like a 
 wild animal, and I watched him eat with a feeling of 
 pleasure that I had at any rate kept life in one hungry 
 human being. I noticed that as he eat his bread, his 
 teeth were sharp and pointed ; and as the darkness 
 deepened more and more, that his eyes had a queer 
 long shape, and turned green and narrow. But at 
 fifteen years old one has no ill-thoughts of people, so 
 I thanked our Lady of ' Angustias ' for permitting me 
 to help one of her children in his extremity, and
 
 THE WE RE-WOLF. 119 
 
 thought no more of that queer look. He shrank from 
 me, as I made the sign of the cross, with such a sudden 
 movement that I caught him by the arm to steady him. 
 Nothing more happened till we got home. At the door 
 I said : ' Poor man, you seem so very weak and ill, 
 and it is so bitterly cold, that I am sure my mother will 
 give you shelter and food for to-night, and you can 
 continue your journey in the morning.' 
 
 " ' I shall be very grateful if you will do so,' he replied ; 
 and again as he smiled his teeth appeared sharp and 
 pointed, and his eyes narrowed and turned green. In 
 a minute, however, the look had passed, and for the 
 first time in my life I got frightened, the more so 
 because the house-dog, who came bounding to meet 
 me, suddenly turned cowering away, shivering as though 
 he had the ague, and howling as loud as he could, while 
 he crouched close to the wall near his kennel. 
 
 "As he passed the sheepfolds and pig-pens, the 
 animals all ran into the farthest corners, while the hens 
 tumbled over each other in their fright, and lay on the 
 floor in the remotest part of the roost. I thought all 
 this was very strange, but said nothing ; only I wished 
 that I had not asked this man to pass the night under 
 our roof. As soon as we got into the house, a little tiny 
 kitten, which was a pet of my mother's and always lay 
 on her lap, began to spit, humped up its back, waved 
 its tail, and disappeared under the bed, where it re- 
 mained all the evening. 
 
 " ' The animals seem to be dreadfully afraid of me,' 
 the old man said as he entered ; ' and I am so fond of 
 them.' Again his teeth looked sharp and pointed, and 
 his eyes were longer and greener than ever. 
 
 " Strange to say, my mother took the greatest fancy to 
 him. She offered him food and shelter, and pressed 
 him to stay. I was really much astonished, for she
 
 120 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 usually disliked all strangers, and dreaded the sight of 
 a new face. 
 
 " I cooked the supper and placed it on the table, and 
 among the dishes was a small plate of stewed kid, 
 which I had got as a relish for my mother. To my 
 amazement the old man snatched it from my mother's 
 hand, and before our very eyes eat the whole plateful, 
 his teeth sharpening and his eyes growing narrow as 
 he snapped and snarled at his food. 
 
 " ' I am afraid of him,' my mother said to me in her 
 broken way, after I had shown the stranger to my 
 room, which was the only one we had to offer him. 
 
 " 'Why, I thought you liked him very much when he 
 first came,' I answered. 
 
 " ' I did,' returned my mother, more plainly than she 
 had spoken for months ; ' but he is dangerous, and you 
 must keep watch with those.' Here she pointed to 
 some firearms that hung over the fireplace in the 
 kitchen where we were sitting. 
 
 " My peace of mind, as may be imagined, was broken 
 for the night, and I determined that at all risks I would 
 sit up. If nothing happened, so much the better. If 
 anything did occur, I should be on the spot. The 
 kitchen led into my mother's room, so I determined 
 that I would remain there. For if the stranger was a 
 thief, he would have to pass through the kitchen first. 
 
 " It was an awful night outside. The wind blew in 
 great gusts, and the snow fell thick and fast, covering 
 the ground for miles around with a heavy white blanket. 
 In spite of the weather, however, I went to the kennel, 
 unchained my good Moro, and gave him some food. 
 He was only too glad to get into a snug warm place, 
 and lay down quietly before the fire in the kitchen. 
 Then I went to the sheep, pigs, and hens, and folded 
 them all cosily for the night. Then I hunted up the 

 
 THE WERE-WOLF. 121 
 
 little kitten, who came from under the bed most 
 willingly, although she still shivered very much. She 
 took her supper near Moro at the fire, and I shut up 
 the house for the night. 
 
 " I shut the kitchen door because it was cold, took 
 down my father's old-fashioned blunderbuss, and a 
 thick stick, which hung over the fireplace, and loaded 
 the former. I took the kitten on my knee, while Moro 
 lay down at my feet, and after some time, listening to 
 my mother's even, gentle breathing, I fell sound asleep. 
 I suppose I may have been asleep a couple of hours, 
 when Moro waked me by the most unearthly howl. 
 The kitten was spitting and crying on my knee, and 
 I perceived by the light of the small oil-lamp that the 
 kitchen door was wide open, and that a huge wolf was 
 standing in the doorway, his green, narrow eyes glaring, 
 his teeth pointed and snarling, all ready for a spring. 
 In a moment I fired my gun, which took effect in the 
 side of my foe ; and I was just going to brain the huge 
 beast with the loaded stick when I saw that it was the 
 body of the old man whom we had housed that was 
 lying on the floor before me. 
 
 " He was so terribly wounded and so evidently dying 
 that I left him, to soothe and reassure my mother, who 
 was very much frightened, and cried out for me to come 
 to her. After I had coaxed her to sleep again, I re- 
 turned to the wolf, whom I found just alive. Looking 
 up into my face he gasped : 
 
 " ' You have done me a real kindness in ridding me 
 of this dreadful life, and I thank you.' 
 
 " I said one or two prayers over him, and watched 
 him till dawn, when he died. I took him out into the 
 woods behind the house, dug him a grave, and buried 
 him. 
 
 "When my mother awoke she was insane. The next
 
 122 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 day my father returned, and he and my confessor were 
 the only people to whom I confided the horrors of that 
 night. 
 
 " A few days later we heard that a huge wolf, which 
 had made great havoc and ravages among the flocks of 
 the neighbouring farmers, had been missing for a day 
 or two, and was supposed to have met his fate at last." 

 
 XII. - 
 
 / ^ 
 
 THE GHOST OF THE ARE&A. $? 
 
 ("TOLD BY A BULL-FIGHTER,") / 
 
 " I AM a native of Leon. My father Was a 'contra- 
 bandista,' and smuggled mules into France, over remote 
 and secret passes of the Pyrenees. We were very 
 proud of our sleek, handsome jennets and mules. 
 Their coats were as soft and smooth as silk, and we 
 took great pride in keeping them as glossy-looking as a 
 lady's tresses. We made large sums of money, but we 
 also ran great risks of detection and imprisonment. 
 Although my father made me sometimes accompany 
 him, the trade was never to my taste. I hated the cold 
 nights under the stars, and the constant dread of being 
 discovered and shot, so once when we were crossing 
 one of the passes I ran away. For days I wandered 
 about, getting a bit to eat occasionally, and managing 
 to keep life in me until I reached a large city, full of 
 \, clean white buildings, which they told me was San 
 Sebastiano. I asked if there was a 'corrida de toros' 
 (bull-ring) there, and on being told that there was, I 
 made my way to the place, saw the manager, and told 
 him my story, and my desire to be a bull-fighter. 
 
 "At one time there used to be a good school there 
 for training bull-fighters. After various preliminaries I 
 was admitted, and found some twenty or thirty other 
 young men who were going through their training for
 
 124 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 ' chulos.' The great favourite of the school was a 
 young/ espada ' named Fernando Nufiez, as handsome 
 and as graceful a creature as the dear God ever made. 
 He was always pleasant, always kindly, and had a cheer- 
 ful greeting and a smile for each of us, and was the idol 
 of the whole school. He was very young, perhaps the 
 youngest ' espada ' that was ever seen in the arena. 
 
 " The bull-ring of San Sebastian stands or used to 
 stand on a long, sandy stretch of plain on the other 
 side of the railway line. It was a large wooden amphi- 
 theatre, and the pens for the bulls were quite apart, 
 but connected with the arena by a long dark passage, 
 through which the bulls were driven into the ring. For 
 three or four hours every day we practised jumping 
 and vaulting in the arena, playing with the lasso and 
 bulls with tipped horns. 
 
 "There was to be a great bull-fight on the feast of San 
 Sebastiano, and Nunez was to try his skill there, for 
 the third time, in his capacity of ' espada.' He was 
 considered by the authorities the ' rising star ' as a 
 bull-fighter, and almost equal to Montes in point of 
 courage, daring, and dexterity. He was always very 
 kind to me, and rather picked me out from my com- 
 rades to be his constant companion. I was much 
 flattered, of course, by this distinction. Perhaps I 
 showed my elation too much ; for an old bull-fighter 
 (who had served many years in the arena, and had 
 retired from public life only to be master in the school 
 at San Sebastiano, with a pension from the Govern- 
 ment) said to me one day : 
 
 " ' Mi hijo, you will not misunderstand me if I give 
 you a word of warning, will you ?' 
 
 " ' I shall be only too grateful to you,' I replied, won- 
 dering what on earth I had been doing to incur a 
 censure in my work. 

 
 THE GHOST OF THE ARENA. 125 
 
 " ' Do not go so much with Nunez. He is very 
 fascinating and very charming, and, so far as I know, 
 as good as he is handsome. But his absence is better 
 than his company. You remember the old proverb, 
 that " Ninas y vinos son mal a guardar ;" and he is as 
 enticing as wine.' 
 
 " ' But he is so good and pleasant, that he cannot have 
 sold himself to the devil,' I said. ' Of what are you 
 accusing him ?' 
 
 " ' I am not accusing him of anything,' replied the old 
 man, crossing himself devoutly ; ' but ' and here he 
 put his mouth close to my ear ' he is a doomed man.' 
 
 " ' A doomed man ?' I cried. ' But why ? Who 
 could wish that poor fellow any ill ? He is so good, 
 and kind, and gay !' 
 
 " ' No one wishes him ill on earth, I am sure,' said 
 the old man eagerly. ' But the ghost of the arena 
 follows him like a shadow by day and by night, and I 
 am sure that he is a doomed man. I have been in this 
 business for many years long before you were born, 
 and I have had my triumphs as ' espada,' but I have 
 never known one to live who was followed by the ghost. 
 Montes was doomed by it, so was Cuchares, so were 
 many others I could name ; and now this poor young 
 
 fellow ' The good old man broke down with tears 
 
 in his eyes. 
 
 " 'But what sort of creature is this ghost ?' I asked. 
 ' Does it follow all the company ?' 
 
 " ' Oh, santa fe, no !' cried my friend Rodriguez. ' It 
 only follows certain people who are to die. You will 
 see a double shadow of the same shape and size as he, 
 walking beside him by day and by night, and and a 
 few days before the bull-fight comes off, the ghost 
 stands before the arena door with a drawn sword, 
 and accompanies the doomed man everywhere.'
 
 126 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 "'I cannot believe it!' I cried; every hair on my 
 head was standing up with fright, and my body was wet 
 with a clammy cold. 
 
 " ' Just wait and see,' said old Rodriguez sadly. ' I 
 shall not go and see him fight, because I could not bear 
 to see him killed, for I love him.' And saying this he 
 left me. 
 
 " I turned the matter over in my mind, and came to 
 the conclusion that Rodriguez was getting silly, and 
 that I had better mention nothing of what he had 
 told me to anyone. 
 
 " The days passed, and Nunez was still the gayest of 
 us all ; as happy and gentle, as unselfish and thought- 
 ful for others as usual, and more beloved than ever. My 
 fears and terrors for him had almost ceased, when one 
 day I happened to go with Nuiiez to the arena to watch 
 him practise with a bull. I sat meanwhile on the barrier 
 and watched the performance, applauding his agility, 
 his grace, and general ease and composure. 
 
 " To my horror I saw on the sand of the arena two 
 shadows together. When one moved, the other moved. 
 When Nunez waved a ' manta,' the double did the 
 same ; when he turned gracefully on one side of the 
 bull, the double shadow turned aside with the same 
 grace and ease. 
 
 " I nearly fell from my perch with faintness and fright, 
 but I resolved to see the thing to the end, and clung to 
 the seat with all the strength that I had left. I rubbed 
 my eyes and looked again. Yes ! there was certainly 
 another figure practising with Nuiiez, of exactly the 
 same size, height, and form, with the same grace and 
 ease of manner. And this double kept pace with us 
 when we left the arena, until we reached a church near 
 the school, when it disappeared. 
 
 " I was so disturbed by this apparition that I decided
 
 THE GHOST OF THE ARENA. 127 
 
 to ask some of my comrades whether they also had seen 
 the strange double, fearing that having brooded so 
 much over the story of the old bull-fighter, my brain 
 might have become affected. 
 
 " ' Oh yes,' cried my comrades, when I told them what 
 I had seen, ' the ghost follows him wherever he goes : 
 but that is a superstition, and we do not think any- 
 thing of it.' 
 
 " ' But old Rodriguez thinks a great deal of it,' I ex- 
 claimed, ' and believes most fully that Nunez is a 
 doomed man. I think some one ought to speak to 
 Nunez and warn him.' 
 
 " ' Then tell him yourself,' retorted my comrades, 
 ' for we don't believe a word of all those superstitions 
 that old Rodriguez is so fond of telling. He is an old 
 imbecile.' 
 
 " I tried hard to believe that the old bull-fighter was 
 foolish and a slave to current superstitions. But day 
 after day passed, and the double still accompanied my 
 friend Nunez. At last I resolved to screw up my 
 courage and tell Nunez the whole story. 
 
 " It was three days before the fight was to come off 
 that I went one evening with Nunez to take a look at 
 the bulls that he was to kill. It was a lovely moon- 
 light night : one of those exquisite evenings which 
 impress themselves upon one's memory. The moon 
 sailed along in an unclouded sky, as round and full and 
 clear as could be seen even on a summer's night. In 
 the distance we could just hear the sound of the waves 
 breaking on the shore, and the nightingales were singing 
 sweet love-songs to each other. The long sandy tract 
 near the arena glistened like gold, and the building rose 
 strangely out of place in that peaceful quarter. 
 
 " My mind had been easier for a day or two. The 
 shadow had ceased to follow my friend, and I was be-
 
 128 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 ginning to believe that Rodriguez had imposed his 
 imbecile fears upon me by way of a joke. 
 
 " When we came to the door of the arena, Nunez 
 entered first, and I stood looking at the moon for a 
 minute or two. As I turned I distinctly saw a white 
 figure with a drawn sword between me and him, which 
 turned round and walked with him shoulder to shoulder. 
 It was the double ! 
 
 " It accompanied him everywhere in the arena, in the 
 pens of the bulls, in the keeper's quarters everywhere. 
 When we sat down to have a glass of wine with the 
 keeper, the shadow sat down beside Nunez. When we 
 left to return to the school, the double escorted us, 
 shoulder to shoulder with Nunez, and three shadows 
 were reflected by the moonlight on the ground. 
 
 " I could bear it no longer, and when, at the church 
 door, the shadow left us as usual, I told Nunez of what 
 I had seen, and of the fears and dread I had for him in 
 the coming bull-fight, and besought him to give it up, 
 at whatever cost to himself. 
 
 " He turned a little pale as he listened. Then he 
 laughed merrily, and laying his hand on my shoulder, 
 he said : 
 
 " ' My dear fellow, thank you for the warning. But I 
 have no fear of the ghost. Fate is fate. I shall not 
 die before my time, ghost or no ghost ; and if I am 
 to die, I will not shirk my duty. I will die in harness. 
 But I do not believe your superstition.' 
 
 " He evidently thought no more about my warning, 
 for the next day he was as cheery as ever, laughing 
 gaily and chatting merrily to everyone that wished to 
 speak to him. Rodriguez (to whom I told what I had 
 seen) and I went about listless and sad, feeling as 
 though we were assisting at a murder, or going to 
 do so. 

 
 THE GHOST OF THE ARENA. 129 
 
 "The day of the bull-fight broke clear and bright : not 
 a cloud was to be seen in the sky. As the hour ap- 
 proached for Nunez to go, Rodriguez and I started for 
 a long walk. 
 
 " ' I cannot go to see him killed,' said the old man ; 
 and I felt very much of the same mind. 
 
 "As we were leaving the house, we met Nunez in 
 his beautiful embroidered dress, drinking * courage ' (as 
 bull-fighters call the absinthe which is given to them 
 before they go into action) with his other comrades. 
 
 " ' Come and wish me luck, both of you,' Nunez said 
 gaily to us, and we complied with inward misgivings. 
 For both of us wished most devoutly that all was over, 
 and that he was safe back amongst us. ' And,' he con- 
 tinued to me, as we drank with all the honours, ' give 
 me that white pink in your button-hole, Alvarez ; and if 
 anything happens to me, the ghost shall give it back to 
 you,' he added, laughing. 
 
 "The whole company shuddered in spite of themselves. 
 For though they pretended not to believe in supersti- 
 tions, his words sounded like tempting Providence or 
 braving the devil. 
 
 "Rodriguez and I went on our walk, and returned 
 about seven to the school. We had forced ourselves 
 to talk about indifferent subjects, knowing what was 
 occupying the minds of both ; and had become almost 
 cheerful and hopeful before we reached our door. The 
 first thing that greeted our eyes was the body of Nunez 
 being carried into the church, near the school, dead. 
 The ghost had made good his warning, and the brave 
 lad had met his fate, cut off from life in the prime of 
 his manhood. His comrades, silent and pale, were 
 wringing their hands in agony. ' Oh that we had 
 warned him !' was in the minds of all. 
 
 " I would not go to bed alone that night, but turned 
 
 9
 
 130 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 in with old Rodriguez ; and in the dead of night we 
 were awakened by a martial footstep, and we saw a 
 white, dim figure with a drawn sword stop at the bed- 
 side, drop something on the coverlet, and depart as 
 solemnly as it had entered. 
 
 " In the morning, on the coverlet lay my pink, white 
 the day before, now faded and scarlet"
 
 XIII. 
 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 
 
 THERE lived in the twelfth century a certain Don Juan 
 de Amarillo, who dwelt, not far from Cordova. Although 
 not very young himself, he had a handsome young 
 wife, whom he adored. He introduced her to all his 
 friends ; but though she made a great sensation by her 
 beauty, wherever she appeared, yet, in some way or 
 other, she contrived to make enemies and no friends 
 among either sex. 
 
 No one knew where she came from, nor what her 
 name was before she was married. All that was 
 certain was that Don Juan had been absent from home 
 for many years, that he had never been heard of by 
 either friend or foe in all that time, and that he had 
 returned as suddenly as he had departed, but bringing 
 with him a wife. 
 
 There were many stories afloat of her origin and 
 character. Some said that she was a strolling player, 
 whom Don Juan had rescued from ill-treatment and 
 persuaded to marry him for his name and position. 
 Others said that she was a witch, and had bewitched 
 the old Don Juan by means of love-philtres and noxious 
 herbs. 
 
 These stories were none of them true. But people 
 repeated them to each other, and were quite satisfied in 
 believing them. Meanwhile, Dona Pepa went about 
 
 92
 
 132 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 and enjoyed herself, unconscious of the tales that were 
 told of her, but not unconscious of the terror she 
 inspired. She was quite aware that people shunned 
 her, and avoided her whenever they could. She was a 
 wonderfully handsome woman, with regular features, 
 dark eyes, and a head like that of a beautiful statue. 
 Her figure was singularly flexible and lithe. But in spite 
 of her beauty, people looked askance at her, and felt, 
 without being able to say why, that there was some- 
 thing wrong about her. She had some curious tricks of 
 manner which were startling. When she was pleased, 
 she would raise her head so that it seemed really to 
 lengthen two or three inches, and she would sway her 
 body to and fro with delight. Whereas, if anything 
 displeased her, or she disliked anyone, her head 
 seemed to flatten out, and the touch of her hand was 
 like a bite. She delighted in hearing and repeating all 
 the ill-natured stories that she could about her neigh- 
 bours, and, in short, seemed as spiteful as a woman 
 could possibly be. 
 
 To all outward appearances, she and Don Juan got 
 on excellently well together. But the servants of the 
 household told a different tale. They said that at 
 home they wrangled from morning till night, and that 
 sometimes Don Juan was positively afraid of his wife, 
 especially when her head flattened, for then she looked, 
 and really was, dangerous. People said that they also 
 had seen a look of alarm creep over the old man's 
 face, even in company, when she showed any signs of 
 anger. 
 
 Things went on like this for many years, but still 
 Don Juan and his wife seemed to live in peace and 
 harmony. To be sure, the servants, who had been in 
 the family for years, left one after another ; and when 
 questioned as to their leaving, answered that the senora 

 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 133 
 
 was a witch, and that the angel Gabriel himself could 
 not live with her. How their master managed they 
 could not imagine, unless she had bewitched him. 
 
 Then it was ru'moured about that a favourite nephew 
 of Don Juan was coming from Aragon to pay him a 
 visit, and to be formally acknowledged as his heir. As 
 he and his wife had no children, he wished to leave his 
 wealth to this nephew, the son of an only sister who 
 was dead ; and in course of time the friends and neigh- 
 bours of Don Juan were invited to meet the stranger. 
 
 He was a frank, open-faced, and open-hearted young 
 man, about twenty-seven years old, who at once won 
 the hearts of all who saw him. He was not at all 
 jubilant or overweening at the honours thrust upon 
 him as his uncle's heir, but spoke quite ingenuously of 
 his former poverty and the disadvantages as well as the 
 pleasures of his boyhood, to his aunt's intense disgust. 
 
 Dona Pepa could not bear to hear of poor relations, 
 much less to let the world know that Don Juan de 
 Amarilla had any such belongings. And she gave 
 young Don Luis such a look of mingled scorn, hatred, 
 and disgust as made him shudder, and kept his tongue 
 quiet for the rest of the evening. The guests tried in 
 vain to draw him into conversation ; he had received 
 such a rebuff in Dona Pepa's glance that he became 
 utterly silenced, and wondered what sort of woman she 
 could be. He had seen what the guests had not 
 observed (for nobody else had at that moment noticed 
 her, that her head had flattened, and that her eyes had 
 grown long and narrow ; that she had moistened her 
 lips (which were white with rage) with a hissing sound, 
 and that her tongue was forked. He had heard queer 
 stories about his aunt, but had hitherto never paid 
 much attention to them. Now everything he had ever 
 heard in his life came back to his memory, and it was
 
 134 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 with the utmost effort that he forced himself to sit 
 through the evening, and tried to appear interested in 
 all that went on. 
 
 The more Don Luis was known, the more popular 
 he became. Everyone liked him. His uncle wor- 
 shipped him, and could hardly bear him out of his sight ; 
 for he reminded him of his dearly loved lost sister, 
 and of his own past youth, before he became entangled 
 in the world's wickedness and folly. 
 
 Even Dona Pepa could not withstand the freshness 
 and charm of her innocent young nephew, and although 
 she was continually angry with him for his careful 
 avoidance of her, she could not retaliate upon him as 
 she had often retaliated on others for as time went on 
 she had learned to love him. 
 
 He lived in constant fear of her, and tried to keep 
 out of her way by every courteous means in his power. 
 But she would not let him escape from her. She 
 dogged his footsteps everywhere. If he went out for 
 a walk, she was sure to come and meet him, and he 
 felt certain that he was watched not for his good, but 
 with a jealous eye. 
 
 One evening he went to see a friend who was having 
 a sort of reception, and stayed out rather later than 
 usual. When he got to his uncle's house he lit his 
 little taper and proceeded to his room. As he did so, 
 he stumbled over what he supposed to be a coil of rope. 
 To his horror the rope unwound itself, and proved to 
 be a large black snake, which glided upstairs before 
 him, and disappeared under his uncle's door. The 
 thought instantly flashed across his mind that his 
 uncle was in danger of his life ; and without hesitation 
 he pounded and knocked and shouted at the door for 
 at least five minutes. They seemed to him five hours. 
 But his uncle was old and sleepy, and it took him some
 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 135 
 
 time to wake up. However, at last he came to the 
 door and demanded crossly what his nephew meant by 
 disturbing his rest at that time of night. 
 
 " I saw a large black snake creep under this door, my 
 dear uncle, and I was afraid that you might suffer from 
 it before I could help you," replied his nephew. 
 
 " Nonsense !" said Don Juan, turning pale, " there is 
 no serpent here ;" and he tried to shut the door again. 
 But Don Luis was determined to search the room. 
 Dona Pepa was apparently asleep. 
 
 The room was carefully searched, but nothing could 
 be found. His uncle was very angry ; but as Don Luis 
 was leaving the room, crestfallen at his failure, and 
 wondering whether he was losing his mind, Dona Pepa 
 opened her eyes and gave him one of her evil glances ; 
 her head flattened, and her eyes grew long and narrow. 
 He left the room with an undefined sensation of terror ; 
 he could not sleep, and when he dozed for a few minutes, 
 his dreams were of snakes and of loathsome reptiles. 
 
 The next morning he found only his aunt when he 
 went down. His uncle had gone out, Dona Pepa said. 
 Don Luis had taken such an aversion to her that he 
 could hardly bring himself to speak to her, and she 
 took intense delight in plying him with questions, which 
 he felt himself obliged to answer as became a Spanish 
 gentleman. 
 
 But at last he could bear it no longer. Dona Pepa 
 was giving very evident signs of rage, and he was hastily 
 beating a retreat, when she strode across the room, 
 seized him by the arm, and said : 
 
 "You shall not treat me with such disdain; you shall 
 learn to fear me if you cannot learn to love me." 
 
 At the same moment that her hand touched his wrist, 
 he felt a sharp sensation as if something had stung 
 him. He threw her hand off and hurried out, thinking
 
 136 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 for the time no more about his pain. But in the course 
 of the day his arm began to swell rapidly and to throb 
 painfully, until at last the hand and ringers were swollen 
 to such a degree that he could neither close them nor 
 hold anything with them. He then became rather 
 alarmed, and decided to go to a hermit who lived not 
 far off, and who was renowned for his skill in the treat- 
 ment of poisons, as well as for his piety. 
 
 After examining the arm the old man said, " It is a 
 serpent's bite." 
 
 " No, it is not," interrupted Don Luis. " My aunt 
 grasped my arm in a frenzy of rage, and this is the 
 result." 
 
 " Worse still," answered the hermit ; " a serpent 
 woman's bite is sometimes deadly."* 
 
 " Can you do nothing for me ?" cried Don Luis, in 
 despair. " I hate her, and I have been persecuted by 
 her for weeks." 
 
 " Yes, and you will be persecuted by her still more. 
 She will take refuge in your room instead of on the 
 landing. Put these leaves upon your arm, and keep 
 wetting them when they become dry, and your arm 
 will probably get better. As to conquering her, that 
 will be a more difficult matter. If you can keep awake, 
 you will get the better of her. But if you sleep one 
 minute, you will be at her mercy." 
 
 "What shall I do to her ? I would do anything short 
 of murdering her," said Don Luis excitedly. 
 
 " Take your sword, when you find her a little way 
 from the door, and hack off a piece of the snake, and 
 see the effect. Then come to me again." 
 
 With this advice Don Luis was obliged to be 
 
 * The superstition still exists in Spain that a woman who has led 
 a bad life is obliged for a certain number of years to become a 
 snake every night ; those with whom she is angry are bitten, and 
 their cure is more difficult than when the bite is that of a serpent.
 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 137 
 
 content. His arm was so much soothed by the her- 
 mit's treatment, that he determined to try the rest of 
 his advice. 
 
 That night, when he went to his room, he undressed 
 and was just getting into bed when he espied the snake 
 coiled in a huge mass at the foot of it. Without a 
 sound he drew his sword, gave a stroke at the snake 
 and cut off a piece of the tail. The snake reared its 
 head and showed its fangs, preparing apparently for a 
 spring ; but Don Luis gave another blow, and another 
 piece of the tail came off. With a hiss the snake un- 
 coiled, dragged itself to the door, disappeared down 
 the stairs, and crept under Don Juan's door. 
 
 The next morning Dona Pepa did not appear. His 
 uncle said that she had a habit of sleep-walking, and 
 had run something sharp into her foot. 
 
 " I can guess what ails her," thought Don Luis to 
 himself, as he condoled with his uncle, who seemed 
 really troubled. 
 
 Don Luis had carefully preserved in a drawer the 
 pieces of the tail which he had cut off; and on looking 
 at them the next morning had found that they were the 
 toes and instep of a human foot. 
 
 For some days he neither saw nor heard anything 
 more of his aunt in any shape. But at last she re- 
 appeared and greeted him most cordially. He noticed, 
 however, that she halted decidedly in her gait, and 
 reported everything to the hermit. 
 
 " Have no pity for her, my son," replied the hermit, 
 " for she intends your destruction. If you have any 
 mercy upon her, she will have none for you. The next 
 time strike about a foot from the head, where she 
 cannot hide her disfigurement." 
 
 A few evenings after this conversation with the 
 hermit, he found the snake awaiting him in the court-
 
 138 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 yard, and as usual it went upstairs before him, and 
 coiled itself on a chest in the farthest corner of the 
 room. All the doors in the house seemed to be con- 
 structed for harbouring and helping snakes, for they 
 were scooped away underneath for two inches. 
 
 Don Luis drew his sword and struck as nearly a foot 
 from the head as he could. The snake made a bound to 
 the door and disappeared, the head first and the body 
 following and joining it outside, and it then disappeared 
 under his uncle's door. 
 
 The next day Dona Pepa disappeared from human 
 ken for a month. " She had a dreadful abscess on her 
 finger," his uncle said, " which had kept her awake for 
 many nights, and she must lie by for a time and have 
 it lanced." 
 
 " I can guess what ails her," thought Don Luis, and 
 went to his friend the hermit to report matters. 
 
 On the way he met an old servant who had been in 
 his grandfather's family, and had lived with Don Juan 
 after his marriage, but had been amongst the first to 
 leave. The old servant stopped him and said : 
 
 " I have been anxious for a long time about my 
 master and you. Is he well? and what is going on 
 there ? I did not like to call at the house, as I left of 
 my own accord. But I had to leave, for I could not 
 bear to live with that horrid snake in the house, Dona 
 Pepa." 
 
 " What do you mean by ' snake in the house,' 
 Jorge?" asked Don Luis. "Did you ever see a snake 
 in that house ?" 
 
 " Indeed I have," replied the old servant indig- 
 nantly. " She followed me all over the house, until I 
 nearly lost my wits. If I went into the kitchen, it was 
 there ; in my room, it was there ; and at last I went 
 away because when I spoke to my master about it,
 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 139 
 
 he grew so angry that I saw he thought I was lying. 
 Have you never seen the snake yourself, senor ? for 
 everyone else who lived there has." 
 
 " Yes, I have seen the same thing myself, if you 
 press me so hard," answered Don Luis; "but what 
 can I do more than I have ? In snake form, I have 
 cut off one foot and one hand. What can I do more, 
 short of murder ?" 
 
 " One thing more," said old Jorge earnestly, " one 
 thing more, and that is to watch until she is out. Go 
 to the chest in the master's room, under the left-hand 
 window, and open it. You will find a queer skin, 
 striped like a serpent's, folded up in the right-hand 
 corner. Burn that, and you will find that the snake 
 will not torment you any more." 
 
 " Are you sure ?" inquired Don Luis, earnestly. 
 
 " Quite sure," answered Jorge, as earnestly. 
 
 Then they parted. 
 
 But the more Don Luis thought over the advice of 
 the old servant, the less inclined he felt to act upon 
 it. It seemed a treacherous thing to do, to go into 
 his uncle's room, steal a serpent's skin out of his 
 chest, and burn it without knowing what might be the 
 consequences of such a deed. So he resolved to go to 
 his friend the hermit, and ask him what he thought. 
 When he had told his story, the old man sat a long 
 while musing and silent. At last he said : " I can 
 quite understand your scruples, and sympathize with 
 you in your feeling for your uncle. But I am afraid 
 that there is no other way of destroying an influence 
 so pernicious as that of Dona Pepa ; for you are not 
 the only one whom she has either utterly depraved or 
 injured in some way. And such people are better out 
 of the world than in it, as the mischief they do is 
 incomparably greater than the pleasure they give by
 
 140 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 their beauty. However, for a month at least, she can- 
 not do you much harm. She is too much injured to 
 show herself until she can hide her misfortune. But 
 if she begins her torments again, I should be inclined 
 to tell the whole case to your uncle, and then say to 
 him what you intend to do." 
 
 Upon this advice Don Luis acted. For a month 
 Dona Pepa kept her room, and he saw no more of the 
 snake. After that time, however, she reappeared, and 
 he watched to see how she concealed her wounded 
 hand. It was all covered with a silk handkerchief, and 
 he asked after it with apparent zeal. Dona Pepa 
 coloured deeply, but answered with much dignity ; she 
 looked thin and pale, and her face was worn with pain. 
 Don Luis's kind heart ached when he saw how he had 
 hurt her. His uncle took great pains to tell everyone 
 that poor Dona Pepa had had to have her hand ampu- 
 tated for a wound which had mortified, and which had 
 threatened her life. Very few people believed the story, 
 for somehow or other Don Luis's adventures with the 
 serpent had got wind and everyone suspected that Doiia 
 Pepa's sufferings were the first punishment for her 
 many deeds of sorcery. 
 
 But after a short interval the same troubles began 
 again. Don Luis found the serpent rolled up any- 
 where and everywhere ; in the courtyard, on the stairs, 
 in his room, in every nook and corner, in his boots, 
 under his rug, over his clothes, until he began to think 
 that he was going mad and saw snakes everywhere. 
 One morning, however, he awoke and found the snake 
 under his bedclothes, winding itself round his body. 
 He gave it several hard blows, and wounded it in 
 various places, till it glided quietly out of the room. 
 He then at last decided that the time had come 
 to tell his uncle the whole story. When he saw him
 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 141 
 
 in the dining-hall, he asked him how Dona Pepa 
 was. 
 
 The old man looked very much disturbed, and said 
 hesitatingly : 
 
 " I have not seen her this morning. But I suppose 
 she is well." 
 
 " Have not seen her this morning !" repeated Don 
 Luis, feigning surprise. " Is she not at home ?" 
 
 " Well, yes, she is at home," replied his uncle, more 
 embarrassed than ever. " But sometimes she is not 
 well enough to see me." 
 
 "Oh," said Don Luis significantly; and the matter 
 dropped for the time. 
 
 Later in the day, however, Don Luis contrived to 
 find his uncle alone, and then he told him all that 
 he had heard. At first Don Juan was very angry, but 
 as his nephew proceeded and he heard the long list of 
 annoyances and torments to which he had been sub- 
 jected under his roof, he became very pale and silent. 
 
 There was a long pause after Don Luis had finished, 
 and then his uncle said : 
 
 " Well, I can say nothing nor can I help you in any 
 way. This much I can tell you, that I sympathize 
 most deeply with you for for that snake has been 
 the bane of my life." 
 
 "Then," said Don Luis earnestly, "you will not 
 blame me if I punish the snake the next time as it 
 deserves." 
 
 " No, I should not blame you, if you can do it," 
 sighed old Don Juan, little dreaming that his nephew 
 already possessed the secret of killing her. And the 
 conversation ended. 
 
 For his uncle's sake Don Luis bore with patience the 
 annoying attentions of the snake as long as he could ; 
 but after a month more of torment he watched his
 
 142 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 opportunity when Don Juan and Dona Pepa were out, 
 and went into his uncle's room. There he found the 
 chest under the left window, just as old Jorge had said. 
 On one side was a queer striped skin, which he immedi- 
 ately recognised as the snake's. He was preparing to 
 light a fire and burn it, when he heard his uncle and 
 Dona Pepa returning. He had only time to close the 
 chest, slip away to his room, and hide the skin, before 
 they entered their room. 
 
 As soon as he heard them descend into the hall, he 
 prepared and lit a fire, and took out the skin, rolling it 
 up in his hand to make it smaller, when he heard fear- 
 ful shrieks below. He rushed out to learn the cause, 
 and was told by one of the servants that Dona Pepa had 
 had fearful cramps, as though her body had been folded 
 up. Then Don Luis knew that what he had heard was 
 true; and, without giving himself time to think, he 
 threw the skin upon the fire. In a moment it was in 
 a blaze, and crisped and curled into nothing. 
 
 Having watched it burn to the end, he went down to 
 his uncle. Don Juan was walking up and down the 
 room wringing his hands. Dofia Pepa was stretched 
 out upon a couch, looking very white and ill. The 
 family physician was sitting beside her, holding her 
 hand and feeling her pulse. 
 
 " What has happened ?" asked Don Luis. " Is Doila 
 Pepa ill ?" 
 
 " She is dead," replied the physician solemnly ; 
 " and I cannot discover what was the matter nor what 
 can have killed her. She was in excellent health, as far 
 as I could make out, an hour ago, when I was called 
 in to see her for convulsions ; and now, with no bad 
 symptoms at all, she has suddenly died. I cannot under- 
 stand the cause at all." 
 
 Don Luis thought to himself that he perhaps could
 
 THE SERPENT WOMAN. 143 
 
 throw a good deal of light upon the subject. But he 
 held his tongue. 
 
 When Dona Pepa was laid out for burial, the old 
 nun who had prepared her for her last resting-place, 
 confessed that she had seen the figure of a large snake 
 distinctly traced upon the entire length of her body. 
 
 Don Luis and Don Juan lived very happily together 
 for years after the death of Dona Pepa. His uncle 
 seemed like a boy again, so light-hearted and gay was 
 he. When his friends came to see him, he would say : 
 " I have not been so happy for many a long year." 
 
 And Don Juan's friends thought it strange, but Don 
 Luis did not. The hermit and one or two others only 
 knew the secret of the Serpent Woman.
 
 XIV. 
 
 THE CHRIST OF BURGOS* 
 
 THE cathedral at Burgos is one of the finest in Spain. 
 It cannot, perhaps, boast of the treasures of those at 
 Seville and Toledo, but it has in its day been of much 
 consequence. The Sacristan likes to tell (though I 
 am not sure that the fact is authentic) that Rodrigo 
 Borgia was an archdeacon there before he became 
 Pope under the name of Alexander VI. Unfortunately, 
 now houses and streets have been built up around it, 
 which give it a rather mean and blocked-up appear- 
 ance. But when seen at a distance it has a superb 
 effect, and towers above its surroundings, a splendid 
 pile of florid Gothic, with decorated pinnacle which at 
 a distance might remind us of Milan Cathedral. 
 
 But although Burgos cannot boast of such wealth 
 and church silver as Seville or Toledo, she still has two 
 treasures which are unique. One is the wonderful cruci- 
 fix, and the other is the Flycatcher (Papamoscas). To 
 both are attached legends, and the following is one of 
 the best of those told of the Christ of Burgos. 
 
 Towards the end of the twelfth century there lived 
 a certain Count, named Castro Mogica, who was Chan- 
 cellor of Burgos, and a man of immense wealth and wide 
 estates. He was greatly feared by the inhabitants, for 
 
 * This legend is mentioned in the old and first edition of Ford's 
 "Handbook for Spain," vol. ii., p. 901. Also in the "Espafia 
 Sagrada," vol. xxvii., p. 495.
 
 THE CHRIST OF BURGOS. 14$ 
 
 he was one of the most cruel and inhuman of men, and, 
 for the mere pleasure of seeing others in pain, would 
 torture his servants and laugh at their agonies. He 
 neither feared God nor man, and was hated by every- 
 one who knew him. He had had two wives, both of 
 whom had died in sudden and mysterious fashion; 
 his two sons were kept in such straitened circum- 
 stances that they rebelled against him, and were 
 punished by being thrown into the dungeons of the 
 castle, where one of them became insane and died by 
 his own hand ; while the other, aided by the servants, 
 made his escape and fled to Palestine. 
 
 A few years passed, and one morning the world of 
 Burgos was startled by the news that the Count Castro 
 Mogica had been found in his room, lying on the floor, 
 dead. It was rumoured that he had been poisoned. 
 No one expressed surprise. The only wonder was, that 
 it had not happened before. But who could have done 
 it ? Who was the culprit ? And then the question 
 arose in the public mind, Would the man or men 
 convicted of the crime be held guilty and brought to 
 justice for ridding the world, and Burgos in particular, 
 of such a fiend as the Count Castro Mogica ? For a 
 long time no one could discover who had committed 
 the crime. The head servant, a sort of major-domo 
 named Fernando, who was at first suspected, as being 
 known to have hated his master, was away in Valencia 
 at the time of the murder, visiting his father, who was 
 very ill and supposed to be dying. 
 
 At last a small bottle of a deadly poison was dis- 
 covered in the room of a young " criado " (servant), who 
 had been cruelly maltreated by the Count in his life- 
 time, and who had often been heard to threaten to do 
 something desperate to his master if he ever got the 
 chance. In vain the boy protested his innocence. 
 
 10
 
 146 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Circumstances looked strangely against him ; and, in 
 spite of his assurances that he knew nothing about the 
 murder, he was thrown into prison, to be kept until the 
 new Count could be sent for and return to see justice 
 done. This took a long time, for in those days there 
 were but few who could write, and the letter or message 
 had to be sent by hand. At last, however, some one 
 was found who was going to Palestine, and willing to 
 undertake the charge. 
 
 Fernando, when he heard the news, came back from 
 Valencia, and took charge of the castle and everything 
 in it until his young master's return. Meantime, the 
 boy Pedro languished day after day in prison. 
 
 Fernando appeared much shocked when he heard that 
 his old master was dead. He had been his servant for 
 many years, and although he detested him as much as 
 the rest of the world, he had contrived to obtain an 
 ascendency over the mind of the old Count by pretend- 
 ing to be a sorcerer, and he had often frightened the 
 Count into leaving him in comparative peace, when the 
 other servants were being maltreated to afford their 
 master amusement. He of course was the proper 
 person, so everyone thought, to take charge of things 
 till his young master came home, and a more faithful 
 and devoted servant would be hard to find, so every- 
 one said. 
 
 At last, after many months of weary waiting, the 
 young Count returned, and was received with open 
 arms by Fernando, who had known him as boy and 
 man. The young Count Mogica was a mere youth 
 when he escaped from his father's tyranny ; and he re- 
 turned a fine, handsome, robust-looking man, much 
 bronzed by the suns of Palestine, and in every way a 
 worthy descendant of the noble family to which he 
 belonged. 

 
 THE CHRIST OF BURGOS. 147 
 
 After hearing the circumstantial evidence of the case 
 against Pedro, who was still in prison, he decided that 
 the boy was the poisoner of his father, and he was con- 
 condemned to be executed in a month. The anguish 
 and despair of Pedro were terrible to witness, and he 
 pleaded his innocence so well that the young Count 
 was moved to tears, and wavered much in his opinion 
 as to the guilt of the poor boy. But who else could 
 have done it ? So the sentence was given. 
 
 " The dear Cristo," cried Pedro, extending his arms 
 to heaven when he heard his fate " the dear Cristo 
 and Nuestra Senora are my only help now ! Help me 
 to prove my innocence !" he cried, as he was carried 
 away to prison again. 
 
 The morning after the trial was over, a Burgalese 
 merchant arrived from sea, who stated that he had 
 seen a crucifix, with the Saviour upon it, steering itself 
 across the Bay of Biscay. This astounding piece of 
 news frightened the people of Burgos almost out cf 
 their wits. 
 
 " Pedro's prayer has been heard, and the Christ is 
 coming to prove his innocence," they said. 
 
 The crucifix appeared, and performed many miracles 
 as it passed along to a convent in the town. It healed 
 many sick, and raised ten men from the dead, and finally 
 brought so many offerings to the convent that the 
 Archbishop ordered it to be taken to the cathedral, 
 which was accordingly done. 
 
 A few evenings after these things had happened, the 
 young Count was sitting reading in his private room 
 in the dusk of the evening, when suddenly his father 
 appeared before him, and sat down in a chair not far 
 off. He could hardly believe his eyes, and for some 
 seconds he sat staring at the ghost, without a word. 
 At last the ghost of the old Count said : 
 
 10 2
 
 148 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " Why do you harbour my murderer ?" 
 
 " Your murderer ?" replied his son. " Why, your 
 murderer is lying in prison, and will be executed in a 
 few weeks." 
 
 " My murderer is in this house," returned the ghost, 
 " and I can prove it to you ; but you, on your side, must 
 promise to do exactly as I bid you." 
 
 The young Count promised, after some hesitation. 
 The ghost then said : 
 
 " You must give a banquet." 
 
 " But it would be unseemly so soon after your death," 
 cried the son, " and people would think me mad. 
 For, as you know, it is not the custom here to give 
 feasts, except on great occasions." 
 
 " Let them think what they like. Do as I bid you. 
 It will save that boy Pedro who never did me harm 
 from a shameful death." 
 
 " Well, suppose I give the banquet what will 
 happen ?" inquired the young Count. 
 
 " I shall sit between two of the guests, invisible to 
 them, but clearly visible to you and the man who 
 poisoned me ; and if ever you saw guilt depicted on a 
 human face, you will see it on his." 
 
 The ghost then departed, and the young Count won- 
 dered if he himself were going mad to see such visions. 
 For several days he did nothing about the dinner-party, 
 but wandered about moping and unhappy, fearing for 
 his mind. One evening he was pondering over his 
 extraordinary hallucination, when he heard a voice 
 beside him say, " Remember your promise you still 
 harbour my murderer in your house !" and, turning 
 round, he saw the ghost sitting beside him. 
 
 At this moment Fernando, the major-domo, came in 
 carrying lights, and had advanced almost close to the table 
 near which the Count was sitting, when his face sud- 

 
 THE CHRIST OF BURGOS. 149 
 
 denly changed in expression ; he turned a deadly white, 
 his eyes starting from their sockets as they lighted on 
 the chair in which the ghost of the old Count was sitting. 
 Both the candles fell from his hands on the floor and 
 went out. 
 
 " How careless you are, Fernando !" cried the young 
 Count angrily. " And what is the matter with you, 
 that you look as though you had seen a ghost ?" 
 
 " And so I have," muttered Fernando between his 
 teeth, as he tremblingly tried to relight the candles ; 
 but his hand shook so much that finally he took them 
 outside to relight them. 
 
 " You know now whom to deal with," said the ghost 
 to his son, and with these words departed. 
 
 When Fernando returned, he gave a hurried look 
 at the chair in which his former master had sat ; but 
 seeing no one there he recovered his spirits, and the 
 evening passed without any remark about the ghost. 
 
 The young Count had a troubled night. He was 
 loath to believe that Fernando, an old and trusted 
 servant, and one who had often helped him and his 
 brother in their scrapes with their father, had actually 
 taken his life, villain though he was. Few knew better 
 than he how tyrannical, how cruel, and exasperating 
 the old Count could be ; but to take his life that was 
 a different thing ; it was going a little too far. As he 
 reflected upon the horror of his situation, he remem- 
 bered how thoroughly and with his whole soul his 
 father had enjoyed life. Even his most fiendish actions 
 seemed to afford him the utmost delight. And his life 
 was taken away from him by it was too horrible 
 to think of! by a servant whom he had trusted 
 confidentially, who almost knew the innmost workings 
 of his mind, and who had been the truest friend that 
 his children had ever had. After all that Fernando
 
 ISO SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 had done for the family in general, would it be right 
 to betray him and hand him over to justice ? was the 
 thought which haunted the young Count. For several 
 days he pondered over the matter, until he nearly went 
 mad with doubts and mental struggles. The ghost of 
 his father came to him every night, and stood by his 
 bedside with glaring, furious eyes, and reproached him 
 for his pusillanimity. 
 
 " Is a servant to be more considered than your 
 father ?" it inquired angrily. 
 
 At last the poor young man was driven so desperate 
 that he determined to take his father's advice, and 
 invite his friends to dinner and see what effect it would 
 have upon Fernando. 
 
 It was not the custom in Spain, even in those days, 
 any more than it is now, to have banquets except on 
 grand occasions. Hospitality, in the form in which it 
 is practised in England, is an unknown thing there. 
 After a tournament, or when the king came to a city, it 
 was thought needful to give a banquet, but not as an 
 everyday thing. Therefore, when the young Count sent 
 out his invitations, the nobility of Burgos was startled 
 not a little. " Castro Mogica must be mad," they said ; 
 but in spite of their suspicions and ill-natured gossip, 
 no one who had been invited refused to go. All the 
 guests wondered, but were delighted that anything so 
 strange as a dinner-party should have fallen to their 
 lot. 
 
 When the evening came, the great palace of the 
 Castro Mogicas was blazing with light. The dining- 
 hall was radiant with candles and glittered with bright- 
 ness. The table and buffet was laden with old family 
 plate. The young Count received his guests with great 
 courtesy and cordiality, but his face wore a curiously 
 anxious look, which was remarked by all the guests. 

 
 THE CHRIST OF BURGOS. 151 
 
 At times, one might almost have said that the young 
 man looked haggard and old. 
 
 The dinner began. It was choice and excellent, and 
 the guests, most of whom were well able to appre- 
 ciate a delicate well-ordered meal, enjoyed themselves 
 heartily. The hilarity and enjoyment were at their 
 height when the young Count, who sat at the head of 
 his table, saw his father's ghost walk in and seat 
 himself between two of the guests who had been his 
 most bitter and sworn foes during his lifetime. The 
 two gentlemen, who had been up to that time very 
 cordial and friendly in their political discussions, 
 shivered as the ghost of the old Count sat down be- 
 tween them. , 
 
 " It is very cold all of a sudden," said the one to 
 the other. 
 
 " Must be a draught somewhere." But from that 
 time their conversation ceased, and they sat cold and 
 silent till towards the end of the meal. 
 
 The ghost of the old Count had seated itself on the 
 opposite side of the table from the door, not far from 
 his son, so that anyone coming in could not see him 
 at once, but could not pass him over without notice in 
 serving the young master of the house. 
 
 Fernando had felt himself in his element all the 
 evening. He liked the importance of a banquet, and 
 bustled about hither and thither, feeling very happy in 
 having company about him once again. He hated 
 solitude, and was glad to be surrounded by gaiety and 
 cheerful society. Hardly had the ghost of the old Count 
 seated itself comfortably when Fernando appeared with 
 a dish, held high in the air, his face beaming with radiant 
 smiles. The young Count watched him narrowly. He 
 had almost reached his master's chair, and was just 
 preparing to place the dish in front of him, when his
 
 152 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 eye fell upon the two guests, between whom the ghost 
 of his old master was sitting. In an instant his face 
 changed : he became ashy pale, his body and hands 
 trembled : the costly dish of dainty food dropped upon 
 the floor and was broken to atoms, and Fernando stood 
 and gazed, stupefied, at his old master. His eyes 
 seemed to start from their sockets, his mouth opened 
 and his jaw dropped, while all the guests got up from 
 their seats in alarm at seeing his altered appearance. 
 
 " What is the matter with the man ?" they all cried. 
 
 Fernando's terror only lasted a few seconds. But 
 meanwhile the young Count saw his father rise and 
 approach his chair. 
 
 " Who is right now, you or I ?" he whispered, as he 
 passed and disappeared. 
 
 When the Count was sure that the ghost was gone, 
 he said to his guests, who looked pale and horror- 
 stricken : 
 
 " My servant is subject to fits. Do not mind him. 
 He is an old and faithful creature, and so we overlook 
 his failings." 
 
 Fernando appeared no more that night, but retired 
 to his room under the plea of being ill. The two gen- 
 tlemen, whose conversation and warm friendship had 
 been interrupted by the presence of the ghost, became 
 communicative and friendly once more. And the 
 dinner-party ended with no more unpleasant accidents. 
 
 The young Count, in spite of what had occurred, was 
 sorely perplexed and grieved. He could not bear to 
 deliver over to an ignominious death one who had been 
 so kind and good to him and his brother when they 
 were cruelly oppressed by their father. For a few days 
 after the dinner-party, therefore, he did nothing. But his 
 father's ghost haunted and tormented him so continually, 
 that he determined to give Fernando one more chance.
 
 THE CHRIST OF BURGOS. 153 
 
 There was a great feast-day of the Church approach- 
 ing, and he ordered Fernando to be in readiness to 
 attend him to high mass. The day came; the cathe- 
 dral was crowded to overflowing, the miraculous 
 crucifix rose dark and solemn in the centre of the nave. 
 And as the young Count, followed by Fernando, passed 
 close to it on their way to the high altar, the Christ of 
 Burgos detached its right arm and pointed with the 
 outstretched hand at Fernando, while at the same 
 instant the blood began to flow from the feet, hands, 
 and side. 
 
 " A miracle ! a miracle !" shouted the people, who 
 stood near, as they looked and stared. There followed 
 a tremendous uproar. When order was restored the 
 Bishop had the cathedral doors closed, and made the 
 people walk past the crucifix one by one. At last it was 
 Fernando's turn to approach. No sign had been made 
 hitherto, and the people were beginning to' think that 
 the culprit had escaped, when the Christ again raised his 
 hand and pointed at Fernando, while the blood flowed 
 once more from feet, hands, and side. Fernando, his 
 face white as death, and shaking all over, the very picture 
 of abject fear, was taken more dead than alive to the 
 court of justice, where he confessed to having poisoned 
 his former master the night he left for Valencia. He 
 detailed minutely how he had put the liquid into the 
 soup, and then placed the bottle in Pedro's room, 
 hoping that he would be suspected. Then he begged 
 his young master to forgive him on the score of the 
 love he had borne him, for whose sake he had rid the 
 world of such a monster. But the Count was inex- 
 orable, and let justice take its course ; and Pedro, 
 when he had almost despaired of deliverance, was raised 
 to Fernando's place in the house of his master, whom 
 he served faithfully until his death many years after.
 
 XV. 
 
 THE FLY-CATCHER (" PAPAMOSCAS"\* 
 
 ANYONE acquainted with the interior of the cathedral 
 at Burgos will remember a curious little doll over one 
 of the side doors. Now it is as silent as the grave, 
 because it excited so much attention and merriment 
 during mass that one of the bishops got incensed, and 
 had the wires which were attached to it cut. But in its 
 day it was intended to strike a bell at the quarters and 
 the hour, like the two men on the old clock at Venice, 
 and like the figures which come out by machinery 
 at Strasburg. This little doll is called Papamoscas, 
 and used after striking the bell to give the most fearful 
 shriek, in remembrance of an event in the life of Henry 
 of Trastamare, brother to Pedro the Cruel. The legend 
 runs thus : 
 
 While Henry of Trastamare was wandering about in 
 exile and waiting for another chance to revolt against 
 his brother, then King of Castile and Leon, he diverted 
 his mind by hunting with his friends and followers, 
 and by tournaments and other knightly games and 
 amusements. 
 
 One day, when he was out hunting, he saw an 
 enormous boar running a little in front of him, but so 
 
 * This legend is mentioned by Signer de Amicis in his book on 
 Spain.
 
 THE FLY-CATCHER. 155 
 
 near that he was tempted to give it chase. Thinking 
 that his comrades were following him, he kept his eyes 
 fixed upon the boar, expecting every moment to get 
 within killing distance. 
 
 After a time he discovered that he was no nearer to 
 the boar, that he had left his friends behind, and that 
 darkness was closing in upon him. He could hear the 
 wolves howling in the distance. It is not encouraging 
 to be lost in a forest, and hear the wild animals be- 
 ginning their nightly prowls. Although Henry of 
 Trastamare was never accused of a lack of courage, his 
 spirits flagged on this occasion ; and to add to his dis- 
 comfort, the boar which he had seen only a second 
 before suddenly disappeared. His superstitious nature 
 (and he was very superstitious) took alarm at once. 
 He almost fell from his horse with fright, and com- 
 menced saying his prayers and crossing himself, when 
 the forest was lighted up by a white soft light, and he 
 saw a beautiful graceful woman standing by his side. 
 Seizing his horse's bridle, she silently led him out of 
 the forest through intricate and entangled paths. The 
 branches which overhung the roads separated as 
 though by magic. When the lady reached the edge 
 of the forest, she said in a sweet musical voice : 
 
 " Turn to the right and then to the left, and it will 
 then be a straight line towards the cathedral." 
 
 Prince Henry was still so amazed at his adventure 
 that he could hardly speak. He saw the lovely face of 
 his preserver, and began: "How can I thank you, most 
 
 charming senora " but all traces of the lady had 
 
 vanished. The forest behind him was as black as night, 
 and only the stars above showed any light. The moon 
 was rising when Henry of Trastamare arrived at his 
 quarters, where the alarm had been raised, and parties 
 were starting out in search of him. His friends were
 
 156 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 not a little startled at his adventure, which he told 
 without delay. What did it portend ? Success or 
 defeat in their plottings against Pedro ? 
 
 Cruel and unscrupulous as he was, Henry of Trasta- 
 mare was a devout Catholic, and never missed going to 
 early mass. Weeks passed away. Never since his adven- 
 ture in the forest had he seen the lady who had befriended 
 him in his need, though he had done all in his power to 
 find her. One morning, when he went to early mass, he 
 saw a very graceful and, as far as he could judge from 
 her profile, an exceedingly handsome woman kneeling 
 on her mat some yards in front of him, intent on her 
 devotions. He could hardly keep his attention on his 
 prayers, so firmly did he believe that she was his un- 
 known friend of the forest, and so earnestly did he keep 
 her in sight. There were but few worshippers at that 
 early hour : only two or three old women going to 
 market with their baskets were kneeling here and there 
 in the vast cathedral, so that virtually he and the un- 
 known lady of the woods (as he continually called her in 
 his thoughts) were alone. When the mass was ended, 
 the beautiful stranger turned to depart. She was 
 dressed entirely in black, mantilla, dress, and fan, and 
 she carried a handkerchief in her right hand. Henry 
 of Trastamare recognised her at once as the lady who 
 had guided him through the forest. She was half-way 
 down the nave of the cathedral when she dropped her 
 handkerchief. Prince Henry hastened to pick it up, 
 and presented it to the fair unknown. She turned and 
 faced him, saying, " Muchissimas gracias, mi Rey ;" and 
 without another word she turned and left him. 
 
 The Prince's heart beat high. She, an unknown 
 person, had called him her King. Was it a sign of good 
 fortune or an evil omen ? He wished that he could 
 have questioned her a little more, but she appeared and 

 
 THE FLY-CATCHER. 157 
 
 disappeared so rapidly that he had no chance to ask 
 her anything. For many weeks he frequented the early 
 services, and looked carefully for the strange lady who 
 had disturbed his peace of mind so much. But she 
 never came to church again, go at what hour he would, 
 and at last he gave up the search in despair. 
 
 Some months later, Prince Henry got belated again 
 in a forest in the Asturias, when he was planning his 
 intended warfare upon his brother, and was attacked 
 by six wolves. He killed two, but his strength was 
 not equal to the other four, and he would have been 
 devoured had not the Lady of the Forest suddenly 
 appeared and uttered a most unearthly scream ; upon 
 hearing which the wolves fled terrified, with their tails 
 between their legs, and Henry of Trastamare was 
 saved once more by his unknown friend. He was 
 determined that she should not escape him this time, 
 and advanced with a quick step to meet her. But she 
 had no intention of disappearing as suddenly as she 
 had come, for she came towards him, and, after listening 
 to his courteous words of thanks and of admiration, 
 she said in a sad voice : " We shall never meet again. 
 Our ways lie in different directions. Yours leads to 
 honour and glory; mine into oblivion. I can do no 
 more for you, my Prince. Farewell." And with these 
 words she disappeared. 
 
 In vain he tried to find her. He searched far and 
 wide in the forest, but with no success. 
 
 " You shall never be forgotten," he shouted, and the 
 echoes of the forest returned " Never !" 
 
 In 1366 the people of Castile and Leon revolted 
 against Pedro the Cruel, on account of his continual 
 atrocities ; and after three years of desperate fighting, 
 Henry of Trastamare besieged his brother at Montiel, 
 and took him prisoner.
 
 1 58 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Duguesclin had then joined the standard of Henry of 
 Trastamare, and Pedro begged him, as an old friend, to 
 help him to escape. The wily Frenchman, desirous of 
 entrapping Pedro, pretended that he would do his best to 
 procure his freedom. Pedro accordingly went by invi- 
 tation to the tent of Duguesclin to arrange the matter, 
 and as everyone knows, when he reached the tent, Pedro 
 was basely assailed and murdered. 
 
 The prediction of the Lady of the Forest came true. 
 Henry of Trastamare became King of Castile and Leon ; 
 and in remembrance of the help of his unknown friend, 
 he caused the " Papamoscas " to be made, that the 
 unearthly scream should keep her from being forgotten. 
 
 But the Bishop's command has frustrated his design. 
 The figure stands with its mouth open, apparently 
 catching flies, and the Lady of the Forest has sunk into 
 the oblivion which she foretold. 
 
 There are few who know the origin and the legend of 
 the " Papamoscas."
 
 XVI. 
 
 THE BEWITCHED VIOLIN* 
 
 THERE was a certain half-witted Genoese servant who 
 went to live with a Gallican gentleman for three years. 
 At the end of his service, instead of the nine crowns 
 which were his due, his master, a very avaricious man, 
 gave him only three, trusting to the man's vacancy of 
 mind to cover his deceit. And he was right in his 
 calculations. The servant never discovered that he had 
 been cheated, but considered his three crowns a fortune, 
 and went on his way rejoicing over his good luck. 
 
 As he was walking along near the river, singing like 
 a bird, he suddenly heard a voice beside him saying : 
 " And what makes you so very merry ?" 
 He turned round and saw a queer little dwarf pant- 
 ing and almost running to keep pace with him. He 
 had the wickedest look on his face that Andrea had 
 ever seen, and the latter crossed himself hurriedly as 
 the dwarf came up with him. The little personage had 
 
 * Part of this story I have traced to the " Romancero General," 
 vol. ii., p. 253. It is there said to be " anonymous." The footnote 
 says : " The same power which is attributed in this story to the en- 
 chanted violin, was possessed also by the hunting-horn which Oberon, 
 King of the Fairies, presented to the celebrated and pious Hugo de 
 Burdeos, according to that most delightful tale of chivalry, written 
 in the fourteenth century, about this hero, who, full of devotion and 
 of good faith, but weak and love-sick, achieved a multitude of tender 
 and amorous enterprises and many warlike adventures. The book 
 which describes them is most pleasant and amusing." I have been 
 told that a similar story to this is to be found in German, but I 
 have not come across it.
 
 160 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 very pretty manners, however, and Andrea was rather 
 ashamed of himself for having suspected him of evil. 
 The dwarf, as soon as he could get his breath, repeated 
 his question, " What makes you so very merry ?" 
 
 " Who would not be merry with a purse full of 
 money in his pocket, as I have ?" answered Andrea 
 gaily. " I have three whole crowns all belonging to 
 me, and there is nothing in the whole world that is not 
 open to money." 
 
 " That is very true," answered the little dwarf, with 
 a deep sigh ; "it would make me a rich man for life if 
 I had a purse full of money. Would you be willing to 
 exchange it for the gifts I can give you ? I would grant 
 you any wishes that you please, provided there are only 
 three." 
 
 " It is worth thinking of," returned Andrea ; and after 
 a few minutes' consideration he consented, on condition 
 that, first, he should have a crossbow and arrows 
 which should bring down anything he aimed at; 
 secondly, a violin which should make everyone dance 
 when he played it ; and, thirdly, that all his requests 
 should be granted on the spot. 
 
 " You shall have all your three wishes," answered 
 the little dwarf; and immediately there appeared the 
 crossbow and arrows, and the violin. 
 
 " The first time that you ask for anything, you will 
 find that your third wish is also granted," said the 
 dwarf; and, taking the purse of money from Andrea's 
 hand, he disappeared, as suddenly as he had come, in 
 a blue flame. 
 
 Andrea walked along as happy as a king. " Could 
 anyone be more fortunate than I ?" he said to him- 
 self. " To be sure, I have no more money, but I have 
 what is quite as good." 
 
 A little while after the dwarf had left him so sud-
 
 THE BEWITCHED VIOLIN. 161 
 
 denly, he met a Jew staring up into a tree, and listen- 
 ing to a thrush which was singing as though its little 
 throat would burst. 
 
 " What a lovely voice that bird has !" said the Jew to 
 Andrea ; " and what would I not give to possess the 
 bird !" 
 
 " Oh, that is very easy," replied Andrea, pointing 
 his arrow at the bird, and it fell to the ground. The 
 Jew immediately ran among the bushes to secure his 
 prize ; but Andrea was not going to let him have it 
 without paying for it, fool though he seemed. So, 
 while the Jew was searching among the brambles and 
 rocks for the bird, Andrea took up his violin and 
 began to play a few chords, and the Jew began to 
 dance. The more he played, the more the Jew danced ; 
 and as he played faster and faster, so much the faster 
 did the old usurer dance, until his limbs seemed to be 
 flying apart. The brambles and bushes were crushed 
 under his feet, and the very rocks crumbled away and 
 became dust, while the Jew capered and panted and 
 danced, until he sued for mercy. 
 
 " For heaven's sake," he gasped, " spare me, and 
 leave off playing that detestable violin ! There is 
 some devil's work in it, and I shall drop down dead 
 in a few minutes from exhaustion." 
 
 "What will you give me if I leave off?" inquired 
 Andrea. 
 
 " I will give you a hundred florins. They are all I 
 have in the world," whimpered the Jew. 
 
 Andrea took the money, and went on his way sing- 
 ing, leaving the Jew lying on the road in an exhausted 
 condition. 
 
 As soon as he could get enough breath and strength 
 to walk, the Jew went to the nearest town and made a 
 complaint against Andrea, saying that he had been 
 
 ii
 
 162 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 robbed by him, and giving such an exact description 
 of him, that in a very few hours Andrea was arrested 
 and brought back. 
 
 The Jew made out such a good case by dint of mixed 
 falsehoods and truth, that Andrea gaped and stared and 
 wondered, and could make no defence. He was accord- 
 ingly found guilty of highway robbery, and condemned 
 to the gallows. He was asked if he had anything to 
 say in his own behalf, and he said to the Judge : 
 
 " I should take it as a very great favour, if you 
 would allow me to play one last tune on my violin." 
 
 " No, don't let him !" shrieked the Jew. " We shall 
 die of his violin !" 
 
 But according to his third wish, it will be remem- 
 bered, Andrea was to have whatever he demanded. 
 The Judge therefore could not deny him such a modest 
 request, and courteously told him that he should be 
 very glad to hear him, if he would play no melancholy 
 tunes. 
 
 " Oh no !" exclaimed Andrea, " you need not be 
 afraid. I am the most cheerful man alive." And 
 indeed he seemed so. For with the sentence of death 
 upon him, and the gallows to hang him already pre- 
 pared in full sight, he played the most delicious bolero 
 that ever was composed. It was irresistible. First 
 one and then another got up, and began to dance, 
 till at last the whole court looked like a ball-room, 
 without the ladies. The Judge and the Jew capered 
 opposite to each other, and tired themselves out in 
 their efforts to outdo each other in feats of bolero- 
 dancing. 
 
 At last the company was exhausted, and thought 
 that the joke had lasted long enough. 
 
 " Enough !" cried the Judge. " We have had enough 
 of your fun."
 
 THE BEWITCHED VIOLIN. 163 
 
 But Andrea played faster and faster, and more quickly 
 and friskily did the company dance. The more he played 
 the more they flew about, until after two hours of fearful 
 exhaustion the company in a body begged and implored 
 of him to stop. 
 
 Andrea answered as coldly as if he had been an 
 iceberg : 
 
 " When the Jew will tell the true version of what 
 passed between us, and also where he got the money 
 which he charges me with stealing, then I will stop." 
 
 " Stop at once, good man !'' shrieked the Judge. 
 " You shall be pardoned, and the Jew shall be forced 
 to tell the true story ; but I shall die of this dance if 
 you do not finish playing on that diabolical violin. 
 
 Andrea then stopped. Some of the people dropped 
 on the ground, and fainted from sheer exhaustion. The 
 Jew was called upon to tell the story of how he had 
 made the money, and acknowledged that he had stolen 
 it. But, when asked how Andrea had ob'tained the 
 hundred florins, he kept to his old version. 
 
 Suddenly the violin spoke : < It is a lie, saving all 
 your presences ! My master brought down a bird which 
 sang very sweetly for the Jew, and he was going to take 
 it without even a ' thank you ' to my master. He 
 played on me, and the Jew was obliged to dance till he 
 begged for mercy and promised the hundred florins to 
 my master. And that is the true story." 
 
 Then the violin proceeded to make the most horrible 
 and diabolical faces, so that those who gazed at it in 
 profound amazement and fright thought the devil in 
 person had come among them. " It is true it is true," 
 whimpered the Jew; and the people, with one accord, 
 shouted, " Hang the Jew hang the Jew !" which was 
 accordingly done, without shrift. And Andrea walked 
 out a free man again. 
 
 II 2
 
 164 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 With his bow and his violin Andrea made his fortune, 
 collecting here and forcing there ; and at last he died a 
 very rich man. 
 
 Of his friends who undertook his affairs after his death, 
 none could play the violin, and among other of his 
 effects it was sold. It was a daintily shaped instru- 
 ment, curved to just the right form and of the sweetest 
 tone. When Andrea used to play it, it almost spoke, 
 and drew tears from people's eyes when he was senti- 
 mental or sad. Its fame had spread throughout the 
 country, and of course the sale of it was an easy affair. 
 At last it fell into the hands of a Toledan music-seller. 
 
 Andrea, though rather wanting generally in common, 
 sense, had had the wit to keep to himself the origin of 
 the violin, and not a soul knew that it was bewitched, 
 and dependent for its success upon the temper and 
 character of its owner. The price asked for it by the 
 music-seller at Toledo was an exceedingly high one ; 
 but, in spite of that, everyone who knew how to play 
 the violin longed to possess this particularly famous 
 instrument of Andrea. 
 
 It next owner was a celebrated violinist named Pascual 
 Cabrera, who took it to Madrid, where he was engaged 
 to give a certain number of concerts. He already was 
 the happy possessor of an Amati, but he had not yet 
 made a fortune ; and as he had heard of Andrea's good 
 luck by his violin, he purchased it, hoping that the same 
 happy result might follow. 
 
 But he did not know that in the temper and cha- 
 racter of the possessor lay the secret of the tone and 
 behaviour of the instrument. Pascual Cabrera was of 
 a rather quarrelsome nature ; jealous of his comrades 
 who played better than he, or, as he called it, " were 
 favourites of the public," and of a nervous, excitable, 
 and irritable temper. For the first few weeks, when
 
 THE BEWITCHED VIOLIN. 165 
 
 he was earnest and placid in his work, the violin be- 
 haved beautifully, and really touched one's heart to listen 
 to. It wailed for its dead master, and fairly sang his 
 praises whenever the new owner played anything that 
 was sweet and sentimental. It was especially charm- 
 ing in sad and minor chords. The Amati sank in the 
 estimation of its master, and retired into private life. 
 
 The night of the first concert came, and the violiri 
 was tuned and ready. Among the performers was a 
 clever young violinist, who played before Pascual 
 Cabrera and was much applauded. The approbation 
 given to this young artist filled Cabrera's heart with 
 hatred and rage, and he walked upon the stage deter- 
 mined to make a great sensation and to cut out his 
 rival. But he reckoned without his host. At the very 
 first touch of the bow, all the strings snapped as though 
 cut with a knife, and Cabrera had the mortification of 
 seeing his rival take his place and entertain the audi- 
 ence, while he himself retired to put on fresh strings. 
 When he next got up to play, the violin uttered a fear- 
 ful shriek of discord ; and while Cabrera looked at it in 
 perfect astonishment, it began to sound of itself and 
 the audience began to dance. The more he tried to 
 stop it, the faster the violin played, and the more the 
 people capered and frisked, until they fairly danced 
 themselves out of the hall into the street to be out of 
 the reach of the sound. 
 
 " The violin must be bewitched," they all cried, 
 " and Cabrera has sold his soul to the devil." 
 
 In vain did he remonstrate with them and tell them 
 that he had only lately bought the violin ; that this was 
 the first time he had played upon it in a concert-room. 
 No, they would not listen to him ; and as far as he was 
 concerned the concert proved a lamentable failure. 
 The news spread abroad, and he could get no engage-
 
 166 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 ments on account of the bewitched instrument. The 
 managers were afraid that some such pranks would 
 again occur and spoil their concerts ; and at last 
 Cabrera was reduced to great poverty, and forced to 
 sell his violins to keep himself from starving. 
 
 Once more, therefore, the bewitched violin was for 
 sale, and this time the purchaser was a poor lad, pas- 
 sionately fond of music, but too poor to afford lessons. 
 The mysterious fiddle had got such a bad name that it 
 was sold for a mere song, and Tomas Rabida thought 
 himself a very lucky man, as he walked out of the shop 
 with his new purchase under his arm. Whenever he 
 had a moment to spare from his work he would pick 
 out chords on his cherished violin. He was a patient, 
 sweet-tempered, pious lad, and the violin gave out 
 under his touch the sweetest tones. But it got him 
 into all sorts of trouble. 
 
 When he had learned to play quite decently, he was 
 one dark evening trying to pick out a new and senti- 
 mental love-song, and stopped for a moment opposite 
 a very grand palace. 
 
 The master of the palace had reason to suspect that 
 his daughter encouraged the attentions of a young 
 gentleman whom they knew and whom he disliked ex- 
 tremely. He had often given the young man to under- 
 stand that he did not want him for a son-in-law, but 
 the young man would not take the hint, and persevered 
 in his attentions, and finally was forbidden the house. 
 Then he took to serenading the object of his devotion, 
 and, as ill luck would have it, sang and played the iden- 
 tical tune which Tomas was picking out on his violin. 
 Thinking it was the young man again serenading his 
 daughter, the master of the palace no sooner heard 
 that air than he rushed out of his house and gave poor 
 Tomas a good beating, and before the lad had time to 

 
 THE BEWITCHED VIOLIN. 167 
 
 explain went back into the house again like lightning, 
 and left Tomas gaping in the street with astonishment 
 and anger. On another occasion he was playing in his 
 own room in the lodging-house where he lived. The 
 moment he began to play, all who heard him began to 
 dance throughout the house, and could not stop until 
 he stopped. The inmates of the house complained of 
 Tomas, and after various remonstrances he was ordered 
 to quit. He was quite in the dark about the peculiari- 
 ties of his violin, and considering himself very much 
 maltreated, complained of his landlord to the Judge of 
 the city. But the Judge could do nothing for him, as 
 the whole household complained of Tomas and his fiddle 
 as a nuisance. House after house did he try to live in, 
 and always with the same result after a few weeks 
 the inmates complained of him and his instrument. 
 At last the violin took to playing in the middle of the 
 night by itself, and he, as well as the rest, was forced 
 to get up and dance until dawn, when it chose to stop 
 as suddenly as it had begun. Then he appreciated 
 what a trial he must be to the rest of the house, and 
 understood his unhappy position. 
 
 At last matters were brought to a climax. Tomas one 
 day had a quarrel with an old friend ; so bitter was the 
 feud that they parted enemies for life, and Tomas came 
 home and went to bed full of rage and unkind thoughts 
 and wishes. In the middle of the night he was awak- 
 ened by a heavy load on his feet. He sat up in bed, 
 lit a light, and beheld a hideous dwarf sitting on his 
 bed and making faces at him. The grimaces were so 
 horrible that Tomas sat staring at the dwarf, too ap- 
 palled and terrified to speak. Then he thought it was 
 a dream, and to make quite sure he put his hand out, 
 and lo it was the violin ! Much relieved, he took it 
 and put it back in the corner of the room again.
 
 168 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 The next morning he laughed out loud at the remem- 
 brance of his dream. His eyes naturally turned towards 
 the corner where he had placed the violin, and there 
 sat the same dwarf making faces at him and grinning 
 from ear to ear. He went up and touched it, and it 
 was the violin. "The thing must be bedevilled," Tomas 
 said to himself, and hurried to his parish priest. To 
 him he told the whole story, and begged of him to come 
 and sprinkle it with holy water and exorcise it. The 
 priest came, but no sooner did the holy water touch it 
 than the violin gave a piercing shriek, burst into a 
 thousand pieces with a loud report, and disappeared in 
 a blue flame.
 
 XVII. 
 
 THE RENEGADE JEW* 
 
 IT will be remembered that when Ferdinand and Isabel 
 the Catholic were trying to make Roman Catholicism 
 the universal faith of Spain, they did their best to 
 persuade the unfortunate Moors to embrace Christianity 
 before they proceeded to extreme measures, such as 
 expulsion and war. Those Moors who became Chris- 
 tians were allowed to retain all their possessions in 
 Spain, but they were carefully watched and made to 
 observe most punctiliously at least all the outward 
 forms and ceremonies of the Roman Catholic Church. 
 Those who did not embrace Christianity were exiled 
 from Spain with only the possessions which they could 
 take with them. The same propositions were made to 
 the Jews at first ; and some of them, though out- 
 wardly observing religiously the forms and ceremonies 
 of Christianity, were still at heart Jews of the first 
 water, and merely Christians from interested motives. 
 
 There lived in Toledo, about the end of the fifteenth 
 century, a celebrated beauty named Beatrix de Men- 
 doza. She and her husband, Juan de Mendoza, were 
 most devout Catholics, famous for their piety, their 
 constant attendance at church, their great charity, 
 and their adoration of each other. They were always 
 
 * I have traced this story to the " Romancero General," vol. ii., 
 p. 355. It is called there " The Jew of Toledo."
 
 1 70 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 spoken of as " two bodies and one soul," and lived as 
 happily as possible. But after a time a coolness sprang 
 up between them for some unknown reason. People 
 could not quite make out what was the matter. Indeed, 
 they themselves would have been puzzled to say whence 
 the coolness arose ; but certainly their visitors felt that 
 there was a difference, and wondered among themselves 
 what could be the cause. Beatriz would have said that 
 her husband absented himself for a certain time every 
 evening, and never would tell her where he went. And 
 this secret kept from her made the " little rift within 
 the lute " at once. He would have said, had he been 
 questioned, that her suspicions were intolerable to him, 
 and that her idle curiosity should not be gratified ; and 
 he became in consequence more and more secretive. 
 
 The house in which they lived belonged entirely to 
 them, and on the ground attached to it there was a 
 stable with a room behind for grain and straw. In 
 this room behind the stable Juan, the devout Catholic, 
 revealed his true character and his apostasy. He was, 
 unknown to his wife and to the world in general of 
 Toledo, a Jew, Christianized from interest. In the 
 middle of the room behind the stable he had an enor- 
 mous crucifix erected, the Christ on it being life-size. 
 And every night he belaboured the Christ with an 
 enormous bludgeon, and wounded Him sore, while he 
 apostrophized Him thus : " Impostor and malefactor 
 that thou art ! art thou the All-powerful and Omniscient 
 One that people think thee ? If thou wast really what 
 the Christians believe thee to be, thou wouldest resent 
 my insults and smite me, and I should believe in thee." 
 
 The wounds of the Holy One opened afresh, and 
 while the blood flowed from His side, hands, and feet, 
 the Cristo said : 
 
 " My brother, for I am a Jew like thee, if I were not
 
 THE RENEGADE JEW. 171 
 
 the Son of the Divine Love and Perfection, I should 
 smite thee. But I have once suffered not only for thy 
 race and Mine, but for those who did not believe in Me ; 
 and in mercy and love I do not smite thee. Why open 
 My wounds afresh by thy cruelty ?" 
 
 " Cruelty ! it is the Christian dogs who are cruel 
 in making me live such a hypocritical life to protect 
 my property ; and as I cannot punish them, I hold 
 thee responsible as their head ;" and he again be- 
 laboured the figure on the cross. 
 
 One night, after 'suffering much from jealousy and 
 evil suspicions, Beatriz de Mendoza followed her hus- 
 band secretly, and saw him go into the room and lock 
 the door. She listened for a long time, and heard 
 blows and cries and remonstrances ; and then she 
 peeped through the keyhole and saw Juan, her devout 
 and pious husband, beating the body of the Saviour, 
 and abusing Him with all his might. She uttered a 
 cry of horror, and, nearly fainting with fright, fled, and 
 succeeded in reaching her room without Juan's seeing 
 her. He had heard the cry, however, and opened the 
 door and looked out. Seeing no one, he continued his 
 brutality for some time longer. Then he went to his 
 rest. When Beatriz thought he was asleep, she stole 
 out to the grain-room, and, kneeling down before the 
 Christ, she implored His pardon for the cruelty of 
 her husband, sobbing and crying as though her heart 
 would break. 
 
 " Forgive him, sweet Jesus!" she cried; "he must 
 be mad to treat Thee so. He cannot intend really to 
 maltreat Thee, for he has a kind heart, and has been a 
 good husband to me. Let my belief in Thee and in 
 Thy blessed Mother cure his unbelief, O Saviour mine, 
 and forgive him as Thou didst those who crucified 
 Thee long ago !"
 
 172 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Juan de Mendoza meanwhile had followed his wife, 
 dagger in hand, and heard her prayers and entreaties 
 for his pardon. This was more than he could bear. 
 He entered the room, and seizing his wife roughly by 
 the arm, shouted : 
 
 " Woman, do you really mean to tell me that you 
 believe that that malefactor and impostor up there" 
 (pointing to the cross) " is All-powerful, and that his 
 mother can help you or me or anyone ?" 
 
 " I do ! I do ! indeed I do!" Beatriz replied, between 
 her sobs. " Forgive my husband, O dulce Jesu ! Forgive 
 him, for he knows not what he says." 
 
 Juan was beside himself with fury on hearing these 
 words, and, seizing his wife, he stabbed her three or 
 four times with his dagger, saying : 
 
 " When Mary and that infamous impostor will cure 
 you of those wounds, then I will believe in them." 
 
 Roused by her screams and cries, people rushed to 
 the house and demanded what was the matter. Juan 
 said nothing was the matter, but the crowd burst into 
 the room and found Beatriz de Mendoza lying on the 
 floor in a pool of blood, and apparently in a dying 
 condition. Suddenly the room was filled with rosy 
 light, and the Blessed Virgin descended on a luminous 
 cloud, her beautiful hair curling upon her shoulders. 
 The Christ then directed His Mother how to bind up 
 the wounds which Juan had inflicted upon Beatriz. In 
 a few minutes she rose from the floor, completely 
 healed. 
 
 " Dost thou now believe ?" the Cristo said to Juan. 
 
 " No and never shall !" shrieked Juan defiantly. 
 
 The people, who had seen the miracle performed 
 before their very eyes, held their breath with fright at 
 the blasphemy of Juan, and for a moment stood para- 
 lyzed with astonishment. It was only for a moment, 

 
 THE RENEGADE JEW. 173 
 
 however; the next they had seized him, bound him, and, 
 in spite of the prayers and entreaties of Beatriz, hur- 
 ried him along to prison. 
 
 For days and days the council of bishops and priests 
 considered the case of Juan de Mendoza, and tried in 
 every way, by threats and by rewards, to bring this 
 renegade Jew into the bosom of Holy Church again. 
 But it was all of no avail. Juan continued to rail at 
 Christ and Christianity, and was finally sentenced to 
 die at the stake. 
 
 People flocked from all parts of Spain to see the 
 " dog of a Jew " die. And Juan de Mendoza died as 
 he had lived, cursing and blaspheming with his last 
 breath.
 
 XVIII. 
 THE CONFESSION OF DON PEDRO* 
 
 IN Spanish superstitions there are three kinds of ghosts : 
 the " Duendes," which are ghosts that come to warn 
 against some impending fate; the "Almas de los 
 difuntos," which walk on the " night of the dead ;" 
 and "Almas de pena," whose punishment is to lead 
 other people, of whom they are fond, to perdition and 
 these ghosts, I regret to say, for the sake of the sex, 
 generally take the form of a beautiful woman. 
 
 Don Pedro de Ycaza was a great hunter. There was 
 no difficult mountain that he had not climbed in search 
 of game, and he never led a hunting-party that did not 
 return with their saddle-bags full to bursting. 
 
 He was a handsome, powerfully built man, and rich 
 withal. His friends and acquaintances wondered 
 why, being so well off, he had never married. He was 
 quite advanced in life when he made the confession 
 which I am about to tell. Those who knew him when 
 he was younger said that he was then cheerful and gay, 
 and always the life of every party he went to. But for 
 many years he had hardly been seen to smile, and a 
 gloomy expression had settled upon his face, and rarely 
 left it. 
 
 It was late in December, when two travellers alighted 
 
 * There is a story similar to this in some parts, in a book called 
 the " Tradiciones de Toledo." 

 
 THE CONFESSION OF DON PEDRO. 175 
 
 at the palace of Don Pedro in Barcelona. They had a 
 Parisian look, and yet they spoke pure Castilian. Ap- 
 parently they were old and dear friends, for Don Pedro 
 received them with open arms and with as near an 
 approach to a smile as his face could assume. After 
 dinner they sat round the fire and talked of old times, 
 and among other things of a certain beautiful Marquise 
 de Longehamps. 
 
 "Ah ! Pedro," said the older of the guests, " how I 
 tried and tried to marry you to her ! The handsomest 
 woman in France, and with such a heap of money ! 
 Do you remember how all your friends worked to find 
 you a good match ? But it is not too late even now, and 
 I have such a good one in view for you. Why don't 
 you marry ? You are not too old. Girls always prefer 
 elderly men, you know ; and this one is so pretty and 
 so well brought up just out of a convent, and easily 
 moulded to your wishes and tastes." 
 
 There was a long and awkward pause. At last Pedro 
 said : 
 
 " Well, there are many reasons why I should not 
 marry, and good reasons too. The first is, because 
 I am married already " 
 
 " Married already !" exclaimed his friends in one 
 breath. " Where, when, and to whom ? We never 
 heard of any wife, nor have you ever spoken of her. Are 
 you a Moor, that you keep her shut up in a seraglio ?" 
 
 " No," replied Don Pedro sadly. " It is a long story, 
 but if you do not mind listening and sitting up with 
 me quite late, you will both hear the story and see my 
 wife. But on one condition, that you do not speak 
 (whatever you may witness) either to her or to me 
 after she comes, until she has gone again. Once a 
 year, this night in December, she is permitted to 
 come and see me. There will just be time enough,"
 
 176 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 he said, looking at his watch, " for me to tell you, my 
 old friends, how it all happened. But you must pro- 
 mise to keep it secret, as I have for so many years." 
 They both promised, and Don Pedro began : 
 
 " I was bear-hunting in the solitary mountains of the 
 wild part of the Asturias, nearly eleven years ago, and 
 got separated from my comrades. I wandered about 
 until dark, trying to join my friends ; and at last, when 
 night set in, for safety's sake climbed into the highest 
 tree that I could find, leaving my horse to wander 
 where he liked, certain that my call would soon bring 
 him back when I wanted him. I had been asleep some 
 time when I was awaked by the call of a hunting-horn, 
 most beautifully played. It was none of our calls, so I 
 looked out cautiously to see what manner of men were 
 hunting at midnight. The night was a very dark one, 
 but the whole place seemed to be lighted up in some 
 mysterious manner. Suddenly out of the darkness 
 stepped the most beautiful woman I ever beheld. She 
 was exquisitely formed, and was dressed in some gauzy 
 stuff which showed her figure off to perfection. About 
 a yard away from where I was she stopped under 
 another tree, and played again a sweet tune upon her 
 horn. And as I watched her I saw all sorts of animals 
 coming in troops one after the other down the moun- 
 tain paths. There were bears, wolves, wild-cats and 
 lynxes ; and when they came very near to her, I quaked 
 with fear for her safety. But she seemed to have no 
 fear for herself. She stood quite unmoved, with her 
 back against the tree. The wolves crouched at her 
 feet and looked up admiringly in her face, while the 
 cats stood on their hind-legs and clawed her gown. 
 The lynxes rubbed themselves against her and walked 
 round her, while the bears reared themselves one by 

 
 THE CONFESSION OF DON PEDRO. 177 
 
 one to their full height and laid their heads on her 
 shoulders. She caressed each one in turn, and they 
 actually purred with delight, making such curious and 
 blundering efforts to be graceful, that it was all I could 
 do not to laugh outright. She then sat down in the 
 midst of them for a few minutes, and, after talking to them 
 as though they were human, she stood up again. The 
 animals crouched at. her feet once more, and seemed to 
 do homage to her. Then she held her hands over them 
 and dismissed them. Each one went home again appa- 
 rently quite contented. When the last one had disap- 
 peared, the beautiful creature played another tune upon 
 her horn, and a flock of goats and deer came cantering 
 along the mountain passes one after the other. She 
 fed them and petted them, and seemed to love them 
 very much; but after a few minutes they were dismissed 
 in the same curious fashion, and again she blew a long 
 blast. A troop of horses came galloping along the 
 mountain passes, neighing and kicking up their heels 
 as though they were too happy to go along quietly. 
 These performed a sort of dance around the lady, who 
 in turn caressed them and rode on their backs. Each 
 one as he carried her seemed very proud of his beauti- 
 ful burden, curving his neck and stepping daintily about 
 the place. After an hour of what seemed like teaching 
 she dismissed them, and sat down under the tree again. 
 She then took down her hair, which was very long and 
 golden, and combed it with a golden comb. At the same 
 time she looked towards the tree where I was hidden and 
 watching her every movement, and suddenly said, ' O 
 man, come down from that tree and talk to me.' Then 
 she sang a lovely song, in a sweet melodious voice which 
 was irresistible ; and as she sang, I slowly, and utterly 
 against my better judgment and my will, got down from 
 my tree and approached her. She seemed to take no 
 
 12
 
 i;8 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 notice of me, but went on singing till I was close to 
 her, when she said, ' Sit down, and don't be afraid.' 
 
 " For some time we talked as if we had known 
 each other all our lives. But gradually I fell asleep. 
 When I woke, my lady had vanished. But the remem- 
 brance of her never left me, and her image never faded 
 from my mind. I was really in love, for the first time 
 in my life ; and night after night did I go, at the peril 
 of my neck, to try and obtain another sight of her, and 
 have another chat. Months passed, and I saw nothing 
 of my beautiful lady ; as I was giving up the search in 
 despair, I met her suddenly in a lonely mountain pass. 
 My heart gave a sudden bound, and I determined to 
 ask her to marry me, and once for all to decide my fate. 
 
 " No sooner thought than done. I represented to her 
 that I was rich, and that she should have all that money 
 could buy. But she gave me a look of scorn and said : 
 ' I am as rich and more so than you : that would have 
 no weight with me. Only one thing do I require of the 
 man whom I marry, and that is ' 
 
 " 'What ? oh ! tell me what ?' I cried eagerly, seeing 
 that she hesitated. ' If you require powerful friends 
 and absolute sovereignty, you would have it with me.' 
 
 " Again she gave me such a look of contempt that I 
 almost shrivelled up from fear and pain. 
 
 " ' Such things do not attract me,' she said, ' for I 
 am far more powerful than you, and could kill you with 
 a word. The man whom I marry must never utter the 
 name of the Virgin, nor cross himself.' 
 
 " I was so much in love that although I thought the 
 request a strange one, I did not realize all that it im- 
 plied. And after a few moments' consideration I con- 
 sented to her terms, and we were married. 
 
 " She was much admired in Madrid. Wherever she 
 went she created a great sensation. But she was per- 

 
 THE CONFESSION OF DON PEDRO. 179 
 
 fectly indifferent to the admiration she received, and 
 indeed she seemed hardly to remark it. When we 
 went out in the streets, people would throng about the 
 door, only to see -her come out, and would throw down 
 their cloaks for her to walk over. But she passed it all 
 by as if it had never occurred, and took no notice. 
 She was devotedly fond of me, and we were very happy. 
 
 " One curious thing about her was that she never 
 seemed to wear shoes or stockings. This seemed very 
 strange to me, and one night, urged by intense curiosity, 
 I looked at her feet when she was asleep. What was 
 my horror when I found that she had two hoofs like a 
 horse, with iron shoes on them ! For some time I 
 could not shake off a feeling of dread that she was 
 something unearthly. But she was so womanly and so 
 affectionate in other respects that after a time I learnt 
 to forget that she was deformed. 
 
 " In the course of two years we had twin Sons, who 
 were the joy and pride of our lives. She could hardly 
 let them out of her arms, much less out of her sight. 
 When they were nearly four years old, I came home 
 one day from a very successful day's hunting. The bags 
 were filled to bursting, and the game as usual was 
 thrown down in a corner of the large stone dining-hall, 
 and the dogs lay down near it on guard. 
 
 " Suddenly, while we were dining, one of the pointers 
 gave a loud howl, started up on his feet, and turned 
 somersaults all round the room two or three times with- 
 out stopping. It then crawled to my feet, and dropped 
 down dead. My wife, afraid that the dog might be 
 mad, hurriedly caught up the babies who were one on 
 each side of her, and held them in her arms, while she 
 got on a chair to be out of the reach of the dog. I was 
 very much alarmed, and forgetting my promise alto- 
 gether, I said : ' Santissima Virgen Maria, there is 
 
 12 2
 
 l8o SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 some witchcraft and devil's work here !' and, crossing 
 myself, hurriedly stooped to examine my dog. I heard 
 a peculiar sound from the other end of the room, which 
 was half a neigh and half a scream. I looked up, and 
 beheld my wife changing into a black horse. The 
 children held on to the mane, and wings came from the 
 sides. Gradually rising into the air, she went up and up, 
 and flew out of the window, carrying the children with 
 her. Once a year they come to see me, and to-night 
 I am expecting them. But make no noise, nor speak 
 when they appear, or something awful will happen/' 
 
 The friends of Don Pedro, who had listened with 
 great attention, were much astonished at this extra- 
 ordinary story, and looked timidly from time to time 
 at the door. 
 
 They were not kept long in suspense, however, for 
 pretty soon after Don Pedro had ended his tale the 
 door opened, and one of the most beautiful women that 
 they had ever seen entered the room. Her long, golden 
 hair floated over her shoulders almost to her knees. 
 She was dressed in a fleecy white kind of stuff, and her 
 blue eyes shone like stars. Behind her came two seven- 
 year-old colts. The three men rose at her entrance ; 
 the two friends retired to a corner of the room, and left 
 Don Pedro to receive his guests alone. The beautiful 
 lady walked up to him and kissed him affectionately on 
 both cheeks. The two little colts rubbed their heads 
 against his shoulder, and testified their delight at seeing 
 him in a thousand pretty ways. 
 
 "They have grown taller since last year, Pedro, 
 have they not ?" said their mother. 
 
 " I should hardly have known them again, Zara," 
 he answered. 
 
 The lady called the two' colts to her, and, as they 
 knelt before her, she took them by the tails and pulled
 
 THE CONFESSION OF DON PEDRO. 181 
 
 off their skins,* which, as they were a tight fit, must 
 have been a painful operation ; but the two little 
 animals did not seem to mind it at all. 
 
 The two friends, who were watching the proceedings 
 with intense interest, shut their eyes when they saw 
 the skins coming off, thinking that there would be a 
 cry of pain. But, hearing nothing, they looked again, 
 when to their astonishment they saw two charming 
 little boys, sitting upon Don Pedro's knee. The skins 
 were folded up like little coats, and lay on the floor in 
 a corner of the room. 
 
 Don Pedro and his wife conversed a long time in an 
 undertone, and the little boys began to get bored. 
 Their eyes wandered about the room, and at last lighted 
 upon the father's two friends who sat in the corner, 
 staring with all their eyes, but as white as ghosts. 
 The children got down from their father's knee, and 
 walked up to the two gentlemen. 
 
 " Who are you, and how do you do ?" said they in 
 musical voices, each holding out a tiny hand. 
 
 " We are friends of your papa, who have come along 
 way to see him. Do you come often to see him ? He 
 is very lonely, poor papa," said one of the gentlemen, 
 as one child clambered on to his knee. 
 
 " Is he ?" said the child, looking wistfully at Don 
 Pedro. " We only come once a year to see him. 
 But I should like to come oftener, only we can't." 
 
 " Why can't you ?" inquired the gentleman. 
 
 The little boy hesitated for a moment ; but the other 
 child, who was seated on the other gentleman's knee, 
 spoke up and said : 
 
 * This idea must be of Eastern origin, for in Frere's " Old Deccan 
 Days," p. 183, the jackal takes off his jackal-skin, and washes it 
 and brushes it, and puts it on again. And again, at p. 223, where 
 the young princess takes off the old woman's skin and washes and 
 hangs it up to dry.
 
 1 82 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " Because no one can speak the charm. We cannot 
 ask papa to do it, because it has no effect after the first 
 time, and he has already done it once when we went 
 away with mamma." 
 
 " What is your name, my child ?" inquired the friend 
 who had not yet spoken. 
 
 "Pedro." 
 
 " And yours ?" 
 
 " Pablo." 
 
 " And does it not hurt you when that little coat is 
 pulled off?" 
 
 " Oh no !" cried Pedro. " Mamma takes off our 
 coats every night, and then she teaches us manners, 
 and reading and writing. I wish some one would say 
 the charm that papa said, and then we could always 
 stay with papa. It is sometimes very cold outside 
 when it snows and rains." 
 
 The time was drawing near to midnight, and at last 
 the beautiful lady called the children. " We must go," 
 she said. 
 
 But the children clung fast to their new friends, and 
 Pablo said : 
 
 " Say the charm oh, please say the charm!" 
 
 The two gentlemen looked at each other, and hold- 
 ing the children tightly by the arm, said, " Santa Virgen 
 Maria," crossing themselves as they said the words. 
 
 The beautiful lady, who was standing up near Don 
 Pedro, suddenly staggered back, and would have fallen 
 to the ground had not Don Pedro caught her in 
 his arms. 
 
 " My time has come, Pedro," she whispered. " Fare- 
 well ! The children are saved ;" and after heaving one 
 deep sigh the beautiful lady was dead.
 
 XIX. 
 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 
 
 ONE of the many peculiar "cosasde Espana"which meets 
 the foreign traveller at every turn in Spain is the long 
 bare stretch of lonely country between the cities, which 
 he has to traverse either on muleback or by diligence. 
 For miles and miles no human habitation can be seen ; 
 nothing rises before the eye but the bleak rugged Sierras 
 or the dusty white plain, according to the part of the 
 country through which he happens to be travelling. 
 
 Very early on a windy cold morning in November 
 the young clerk of a large wine-trading house in Malaga 
 started from Madrid in the lumbering old diligence for 
 Soria. The road in many parts is so lonely and un- 
 inhabited that nearly the only houses to be seen or 
 heard of are the stopping-places for the diligence. 
 Here you can be accommodated with a decent 
 "puchero" or a " guizado," and, if need be, supplied 
 with a bed. For sometimes the most important parts 
 of the tumbledown, rattling diligences say good-bye 
 every now and then to the body of the vehicle, and 
 have to be fastened together again on the road. Then 
 the weary traveller, who has been bumped and jolted 
 out of all patience, is only too thankful to take what he 
 can find in the way of a bed and decent food. The 
 diligences, to begin with, are, as a rule, battered and 
 old. There are ropes for reins, and old worn-out chains
 
 1 84 SPA NISH LEGEND A R Y TA LES. 
 
 for straps ; and as the " mayoral," or, as they would 
 call him in America, " the boss of the coach," prefers 
 to drive up and down hill and over mountain preci- 
 pices and valleys at as fast and perilous a pace as the 
 horses will go (calling them the most scurrilous and 
 insulting names that he can think of meanwhile), it 
 is no wonder that the lumbering old thing decides for 
 itself where it will stop and go no farther for either 
 "mayoral" or "zagal" (the ubiquitous boy who runs 
 alongside and encourages the animals by stones and 
 offensive speeches). 
 
 The diligence in which Don Manuel Herrera was 
 travelling was no better than the rest, and chose to 
 break down at Adradas. Here there used to be in the 
 old days a very miserable, stable-like hovel, called by 
 courtesy a house, where food and lodging were an- 
 nounced as being provided for the weary traveller. It 
 used to be kept by " La Catalina," as she was called 
 by her acquaintances. "La Catalina" was about as 
 repulsive-looking an old hag as could well be found in 
 the province of Soria. She had long, thin, skinny 
 arms, and a hare-lip, and eyes that looked round the 
 corner ; and her face had the most sinister look upon it, 
 as though she intended your murder that very night, 
 and was plotting against you from the moment that 
 she first saw you. 
 
 Manuel Herrera's heart sank at the first sight of his 
 future landlady; but he comforted himself with the 
 thought that she might be like a singed cat, " better 
 than she looked," and that perhaps her culinary efforts 
 and accommodation for resting might be passably 
 decent. And to tell the truth, " La Catalina's " cook- 
 ing, according to her lights, was far too good to be 
 despised. Her recipes were few, but she contrived 
 with her three or four dishes to make her guests
 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 185 
 
 contented, and not to let them go starving away, which 
 is affer all the main point. She could make a 
 "puchero" (a kind of stew), "guizado" (a game or 
 rabbit stew), or toss an omelette as well as any 
 Spaniard, provided always that she had the materials. 
 But she generally had enough in the house to feed the 
 few and rare guests who visited her dwelling on their 
 way, and for those also who were forced by circum- 
 stances to remain for the night. 
 
 Manuel Herrera was ushered into a long low house, 
 whitewashed and rough. In the middle was a long 
 corridor, at the left side a dark kitchen, with a bright 
 open fire, which gleamed and shone red and gold, 
 lighting up the bare tables and scanty earthen pipkins 
 and pans so dear to the Spanish heart. To the right 
 of the long corridor was a stable, and at the farther 
 end of this was a small stone staircase which led to a 
 room over the stable, and of the same length, wherein 
 were arranged two or three chairs, four or five rude 
 settles with straw and bedding upon them to serve as 
 beds, and a table or two. Manuel Herrera watched the 
 " mayoral " and "zagal " while they cleaned the horses 
 of the diligence and bedded them down for the night. 
 Then he joined them round the kitchen fire, each one 
 watching his own particular "puchero " or " guizado," 
 as the case might be, and telling stories to while away 
 the time. 
 
 After his dinner Manuel Herrera felt very tired. 
 His bones were aching and sore from the constant 
 jolting of the diligence, and he threw himself down on 
 his straw bed with a sense of relief and delight. " La 
 Catalina " informed him as he left the kitchen that the 
 " mayoral " and " zagal " would be his only room-mates. 
 He slept very soundly, how long he could not tell; but 
 he awoke suddenly, as one does under a sense of danger,
 
 186 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 or when there is a strange person in the room. The 
 cold November moon shone clear and bright in at the 
 window, and made a great white patch upon the brick 
 floor. He could hear the distinct snores of the 
 'mayoral" and "zagal " at the end of the room, who 
 were sleeping as only peasants can sleep. Still Manuel 
 could not combat the feeling that some one else was in 
 the room. He listened attentively for some minutes, 
 but could hear nothing. His eyes gradually got ac- 
 customed to the objects in the room. There was a 
 large chair not very far from his bed against the wall 
 opposite, and sitting in it he distinctly saw by the light 
 of the moonlight, which streamed across one end of the 
 chair, a man with a red cloak folded across his 
 shoulders. He looked and stared yes, there still sat 
 the man in the red cloak. " This must be nightmare," 
 he thought, and pinched himself to be quite sure that 
 he was not dreaming. He could still hear the snores 
 of the " mayoral " and " zagal;" and again turning his 
 eyes in the direction of the chair, he saw the statue-like 
 figure in the red cloak. He sat up in bed and rubbed 
 his eyes, and when he looked again the figure had gone. 
 
 The next morning he missed a very valuable ring 
 from his finger, but his watch was still under his 
 pillow. He inquired of " La Catalina" and of the maid 
 who came to help in the morning whether they had 
 seen it. No one had noticed it upon his hand, nor had 
 they seen or heard anything of it. When he told the 
 " mayoral " and " zagal " about it, they exchanged 
 glances and laughed. 
 
 " We have not seen it, sefior," they said. " You'll 
 have to find ' El Capitan.' " 
 
 " Capitan ! Who is ' El Capitan ' ?" asked Manuel ; 
 " and where does he live ?" 
 
 " Oh, how are we poor devils to know ? We cannot
 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 187 
 
 tell the senor, but we thought perhaps he knew him and 
 could find him." 
 
 " How soon shall we start ?" inquired Manuel, seeing 
 that no signs of any diligence or horses were to be seen. 
 
 " Start ?" cried the two men, in one breath. " This 
 is a fete-day, and we shall not leave until to-morrow." 
 
 " Then I shall see the man in the red cloak again," 
 thought Manuel to himself " and perhaps can find 
 ' El Capitan.' " 
 
 He spent most of the day in going round the city, 
 and to mass at the church called by courtesy the 
 cathedral. After the service he got into conversation 
 with several of the most respectable of the farmers 
 who stood in groups talking busily to one another. 
 The peasants all knew him as the gentleman who was 
 staying at " La Catalina's" on account of the breakdown 
 of the diligence. By a natural courtesy they responded 
 cordially to his advances, and he soon became on quite 
 friendly terms with them. They told him their hopes 
 and fears for their sheep and crops, and of their 
 poverty, and their families. At last Manuel ventured 
 to ask one peasant, with whom he had become almost 
 intimate, if he knew how and where he could find 
 " El Capitan." 
 
 He looked straight at his companion as he asked 
 the question. To his utter consternation, the ex- 
 pression on the man's face changed entirely. From a 
 look of perfect serenity, it changed to one of perfect 
 terror and perplexity. 
 
 " Whom are you seeking ?" he stammered, his teeth 
 chattering and his hands shaking. " I cannot have 
 heard you aright." 
 
 " I want to speak to a man called ' El Capitan.' " 
 
 " Hombre !" interrupted the other. " Don't tempt 
 Providence ! He who sees ' El Capitan,' sees the devil
 
 1 88 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 himself. Be careful not to incur his displeasure, for 
 you are not safe one minute after." 
 
 With this the old peasant turned away, white and 
 trembling with fear, looking on all sides to assure him- 
 self that no one had overheard the conversation. 
 
 Several times in the course of the day did Manuel 
 try to get at the bottom of this mystery. But every- 
 time that he mentioned the name of " El Capitan," 
 he noticed the same look of abject fear on the face of 
 the person with whom he was talking, and had the 
 same caution given to him with every sign of secrecy. 
 
 He began to think that " El Capitan " was the very 
 devil himself; and at last, after many ineffectual at- 
 tempts, he returned to " La Catalina's " house. Only 
 the " mayoral " and "zagal " were there ; and after a 
 particularly savoury supper they all went to bed, as 
 they were to be off at dawn. That night Manuel 
 slept so soundly that he heard and saw nothing ; but 
 the next morning his watch, the only other valuable 
 that he had with him, had disappeared. In vain he 
 asked if anyone had seen it. " La Catalina " only be- 
 came angry, and asked him if he thought her house 
 was a den of thieves ; that, though she was a poor 
 widow, she had always had a good name and was 
 respectable ; and that if the Senor wished to discover 
 robbers, he must go elsewhere to seek for them than in 
 her house. The " mayoral " and " zagal " laughed 
 aloud when he told them about his loss, and said : 
 
 " Eh, seiior, what can one do when ' El Capitan ' is 
 in the neighbourhood ?" 
 
 " And where is he ?" inquired Manuel. 
 
 " Eh, quien sabe ? who knows ?" they both an- 
 swered, shrugging their shoulders and grinning at 
 each other. 
 
 Manuel saw at once that no information was to be 

 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 189 
 
 obtained from them. They were most probably either 
 in league with the mysterious " Capitan," or as afraid 
 of him as the rest. 
 
 Manuel therefore said no more about his losses, and 
 apparently resigned himself to his fate. He travelled 
 on to his destination ; did his business there, and re- 
 turned to Madrid in the same diligence, with the same 
 " mayoral " and " zagal," but without stopping any- 
 where " en route." 
 
 When he arrived at Madrid, he went to a cafe which 
 he frequented in the Puerta del Sol ; and while he was 
 looking about and watching the people at the different 
 tables he suddenly espied an old friend, by name Colonel 
 Cadenas, whom he had not seen for some time. 
 
 Colonel Cadenas was a tall, determined-looking soldier, 
 with keen bright eyes and a dark, heavy moustache. 
 They had many things to talk over, and each questioned 
 the other as to his business in Madrid, both being Malaga 
 men. Manuel explained his business very easily, but the 
 Colonel seemed rather embarrassed to account for his 
 visit to the capital in anything like a satisfactory 
 manner. Manuel noticed his hesitation, and turned 
 the conversation at once, telling the Colonel everything 
 that he had undergone in his travels, casually mention- 
 ing the mysterious disappearance of his ring and his 
 watch, the appearance of the ghost in the red cloak, 
 and " El Capitan." At this the Colonel, who had been 
 rather absent in his answers and attention, suddenly 
 became attentive, and listened with the greatest earnest- 
 ness to all that Manuel had to tell. 
 
 The two men sat for some time in silence, when the 
 Colonel said abruptly : 
 
 " Should you know ' El Capitan' if you 'met him ?" 
 
 " No, I think not," returned Manuel ; " but I should 
 recognise the red-cloaked creature anywhere."
 
 190 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " He and the Capitan are one and the same," said 
 the Colonel quietly ; and I am sent by the Government 
 to take him alive or dead." 
 
 Manuel started from his chair. After staring at the 
 Colonel for some time, he controlled himself and sat 
 down, saying : 
 
 " Why are you sent after him ?" 
 
 " Because he is a most notorious robber, and exercises 
 an immense influence for evil all over the country. He 
 is the captain of a large and dangerous band of robbers, 
 and has done much damage. The Government has 
 decided and ordered that he shall be taken alive or 
 dead. Do you think that you could guide me to this 
 place where you saw the red-cloaked ghost ?" 
 
 " Oh yes," replied Manuel ; " if he be the Capitan, I 
 can point him out, to a dead certainty." 
 
 " Then put off your journey, and come with me. I 
 can make it worth your while," said the Colonel 
 eagerly. 
 
 Manuel considered for a few moments, and finally 
 decided to go and solve the mystery with the Colonel. 
 When he had arranged his own affairs, the two friends 
 met on the diligence for Adradas early the next morning. 
 There were fifteen or twenty other passengers, who ap- 
 parently did not know each other, so little was the con- 
 versation between them, and the diligence was almost 
 inconveniently full. 
 
 " I wish we had not so many companions," whispered 
 Manuel to the Colonel, when they were starting. 
 
 " They are all my men, or nearly all," returned the 
 other, in a whisper; " armed and prepared for the same 
 expedition as ourselves." 
 
 " For ' El Capitan' ?" cried Manuel, astonished. 
 
 " Yes," was the answer. 
 
 When they came to the house of " La Catalina," the
 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 191 
 
 diligence only stopped to rest and change horses, 
 and some few of the passengers went on with it. 
 Quite a number of the passengers, however, descended 
 at the inn door, and went their different ways. 
 Manuel and the Colonel entered the house alone, and 
 were ordering their dinner, when a man dressed in 
 peasant's clothes came in and sat down near the fire. 
 Manuel saw a curious look of understanding pass be- 
 tween the Colonel and the peasant. When they went 
 upstairs the Colonel said: " He is one of my men, that 
 peasant, and he as well as the others have their orders. 
 We shall probably catch the ' Capitan' to-night." 
 
 All through the day and evening the peasant sat 
 in the kitchen, apparently doing nothing but warm 
 himself. Occasionally he said a few words to " La 
 Catalina," and finding that he knew something of the 
 neighbourhood, and a good deal of the people, " La 
 Catalina " gradually became very friendly with him. 
 But he bored her nevertheless. She had reasons of her 
 own for not wanting him about just then. However, 
 he seemed quite unconscious that he was in the way, 
 and there he sat, looking stolid and inattentive to every- 
 thing except the cooking, which he watched carefully. 
 But though to outward appearance only a stupid lout, 
 in reality he was carefully noticing everything that 
 " La Catalina " did, and straining his ears to catch the 
 slightest suspicious sounds. Among other things he 
 noticed that there were four " pucheros " on the fire. As 
 one by one they were ready, and Catalina served them 
 up, he inquired for whom each one was. 
 
 " One was for the Colonel," she said, " a second for 
 Manuel, the third for himself " 
 
 " And the fourth ?" asked the peasant. 
 
 " What fourth ?" exclaimed ' La Catalina ' angrily, 
 turning fiercely on him. " Hombre ! what fourth 
 ' puchero ' ?"
 
 192 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 " Mi ama !" returned the peasant mildly, " don't 
 be angry with me. I thought I saw a fourth pipkin up 
 in the corner there." 
 
 "Well, you thought wrong then," said " La Catalina" 
 snappishly ; " and even if there were one, what busi- 
 ness is it of yours, I'd like to know ? Even if there 
 were one, which there isn't," and here she gave a 
 vicious shove to something at the back of the fire 
 " Even if there were another ' puchero,' have I not the 
 right to cook for my son, so long as I do not ask you 
 to pay for it ?" 
 
 " Assuredly," the peasant said soothingly. " And so 
 the senora has a son ? And does he live with you ?" 
 
 " Just now he is with me, but generally he is away 
 on business." 
 
 " Ah !" thought the peasant, " he is here just now, 
 and is going to have a ' puchero.' I'll wait and see 
 what he looks like." So he leisurely ate his "puchero," 
 smacking his lips and prolonging his meal as much as 
 he could. He could see that " La Catalina" was getting 
 nervous as the time went on. She kept looking every 
 now and then to see if he had nearly finished, and 
 tried to hurry him on by polite inquiries. Did he not 
 like the "puchero" that he ate it so slowly? And soon. 
 
 The peasant replied : " It is because I like it so much 
 that I am lingering so long over it, good mother." 
 
 And he went on eating his supper quietly and slowly. 
 All this time " La Catalina " was fidgeting about the 
 kitchen, visibly uncomfortable. 
 
 Her eye fell on the two suppers of the gentlemen 
 upstairs, and a bright thought struck her. She could 
 get rid of the peasant by asking him to do her a 
 favour. 
 
 She turned to him and said : " I am not clean enough 
 to go and tell the sefiores that supper is ready ; would 

 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 193 
 
 you do me the kindness to go upstairs and tell them 
 that their * pucheros ' are nearly cold ?" 
 
 " Certainly, if you will show me the stairs," which 
 " La Catalina " did with much alacrity. 
 
 The peasant's manner changed entirely when she 
 left him. He ran lightly up the stairs, gave the mess- 
 age to the Colonel and Manuel, whispered hurriedly, 
 " Her son is in the house, but does not appear ; don't 
 come till I whistle," and descended quickly to an angle 
 where he could see anyone coming through the stable. 
 " She will now give the son his supper," he thought to 
 himself ; and he was not wrong. In a minute he saw 
 "La Catalina" coming towards him with a smoking-hot 
 " puchero," a bottle of wine, and a large piece of bread. 
 At the middle stall she paused, entered it and dis- 
 appeared. The peasant carefully stole behind her, and 
 saw her slide back a panel of the stable boarding and 
 go up some stairs. He then returned to his angle and 
 watched. She returned in a few minutes, her hands 
 empty, and looked carefully about her ; but, seeing no 
 one, she sped away back to the kitchen as fast as she 
 could go. The peasant gave a low whistle, and a 
 minute after the Colonel and Manuel came down to 
 their suppers, and the peasant walked out into the 
 street. He did not go far, however ; only round the 
 house. There he met a comrade, and they together 
 went behind the stable, where they found a stone stair- 
 case leading into the garden. This staircase they 
 mounted, and found nothing at the top no door, no 
 entrance from the outside of any kind. 
 
 "There is another sliding-panel door in the inside," 
 thought the peasant to himself. He said nothing to 
 his companion, however ; but simply gave him a few 
 whispered directions, and then sauntered into the 
 kitchen again, just as stupid and stolid a clod as nature 
 
 13
 
 194 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 ever made. Another look was exchanged with the 
 Colonel, and that was all. 
 
 After their supper was over, the Colonel and Manuel 
 went up to bed. The Colonel slept in Manuel's former 
 bed, while he and the peasant slept or pretended to 
 sleep in those formerly occupied by the "may oral, "and 
 "zagal." The moonlight again streamed in at the 
 window, as on the night when Manuel had slept there 
 last. If he had not heard the tramp of feet round the 
 house, he would have thought that he was dreaming. 
 But they were all too anxious to sleep. At two in the 
 morning they all saw the ghost in the red cloak sitting 
 in the chair. No one stirred, but all breathed heavily 
 as though in sleep. They saw the ghost rise, softly 
 steal towards the Colonel's bed, and put his hand under 
 the pillow. As soon as he was fairly out of the chair, 
 the peasant and Manuel crept out of their beds and 
 silently came up behind the ghost or "ElCapitan." The 
 Colonel rose in his bed and seized him. He raised his 
 knife, which was in' the right hand, and was going to 
 plunge it into the heart of the Colonel, when his arms 
 were seized by Manuel and the peasant. The latter 
 gave a shrill whistle, and the room was instantly filled 
 with armed men. 
 
 He fought desperately, but when he saw that the 
 room into which he intended to retreat was also 
 filled with soldiers, he perceived that resistance was 
 useless, and allowed himself to be taken. In vain did 
 " La Catalina " plead and beg for her son. She even 
 went so far as to show and offer to the Colonel and his 
 men bags of money and of treasure, if they would only 
 let her son go free. But they were unswerving in their 
 duty. The " Capitan " was taken to Madrid, tried, and 
 sentenced to death. Manuel recovered his watch and 
 ring. The trial occasioned great excitement all over
 
 THE GHOST OF THE RED CLOAK. 195 
 
 Spain, for the prisoner was one of the most influential 
 robber chieftains in the country, and commanded a 
 large army of robbers. Murders and thefts without 
 number were proved against him. Thousands attended 
 his execution. So at last, after many years, peace and 
 security reigned once more in the Soria,
 
 XX. 
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SANTA BUENAVENTURA* 
 
 DAROCA, as we have had occasion to mention in a 
 former legend, is a small village on the road from 
 Teruel to Calatayud. It is in a picturesque position, 
 lying in a valley surrounded by hills, upon which here 
 and there rise Moorish walls and towers. The valley 
 is shaped like a funnel, small at one end and large at 
 the other, and is subject to dreadful inundations. In 
 these days a tunnel has been cut, which is called the 
 " Misa," and which lets the water out ; and this passage 
 serves, when dry, as the fashionable promenade. 
 
 In one of the streets of Daroca there is a shrine to 
 Santa Buenaventura, and underneath it, enclosed by 
 glass, is a large mill-wheel. Many people have 
 wondered much when they have seen it; but the in- 
 habitants of Daroca would not part with that mill- 
 wheel for any price, for it is one of the many signs of 
 saintly intervention which have been showered upon 
 that pious little city, and " thereby hangs a tale." 
 
 About the middle of the fifteenth century Daroca was 
 threatened with a terrible inundation. For days and 
 weeks rain had fallen in heavy showers. The hills 
 
 * Mention of this legend is to be found in the " Historia" of 
 Diego de Castrejon y Fonseca, Madrid, 1641 ; in Ford's " Hand- 
 book of Spain," vol. ii.,p. 875 ; and in the" Antiguedades " of Nunez 
 y Quiles Zaragoza, 1691.
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SANTA BUENAVENTURA. 197 
 
 about the city were furrowed into cataracts ; and thick 
 mists gathered over the town. 
 
 The inhabitants did not dare to move out of their 
 houses for fear of being overtaken by the floods. 
 Guards were placed at different points to watch and 
 open the sluice-gates of the city in case of an inunda- 
 tion ; and for weeks the inhabitants of Daroca watched 
 the weather with anxious hearts. But as nothing 
 happened in all that time excepting the continual rising 
 of the river, the peasants became easier in their minds, 
 and gradually relaxed in their watchfulness and care. 
 The guards were still kept at their posts, it is true ; but 
 they were not very vigilant, and almost considered the 
 danger over, in spite of the continual rains and the 
 rising of the rivers near by. 
 
 At the head of the valley there was a mill worked 
 with a water-wheel, where lived the miller with his 
 wife and pretty daughter Rosa. One night, after a 
 continual rain and a sound of roaring waters, the old 
 priest of the village was ambling home on his lazy old 
 mule somewhere in the small hours, after confessing 
 and shriving a poor dying woman far up among the 
 hills. He was dead tired, and the constant exercise in 
 the cold air had made him very sleepy, which the slow 
 jog-trot of his lazy mule certainly increased rather than 
 lessened. Suddenly he woke with a start, and saw 
 standing before him a beautiful woman dressed in blue, 
 with a silver star on her head, whom he at once 
 recognised as Santa Buenaventura, whose shrine was 
 in the corner of a street close by. She seized his mule 
 by the bridle, and said to the astonished old priest : 
 
 " Why art thou sleeping while the people suffer and 
 die ? Is this the care thou takest of the flock of God ? 
 This is my particular feast-day, and they shall not die 
 if I can aid them. Listen ! hark ! Do you hear that
 
 198 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 roaring sound ? It is the flood coming upon us ! Fly! 
 fly ! to the gates and tell the guards to open them wide, 
 while I go to the mill !" and with these words she dis- 
 appeared. The old priest, now thoroughly awake, was 
 frightened nearly out of his wits, and felt sore at the 
 scolding which the saint had given him for neglect of 
 his parish. Nevertheless, he spurred on the old mule 
 as fast as he could, with the noise of the coming waters 
 sounding in his ears, and rode to the gates of the city. 
 The guards were sound asleep, and he had great 
 difficulty in rousing them to their duty. Then, seeing 
 that they were there to do their work if needed, the 
 old priest jogged back as fast as his mule would let 
 him to the mill. He arrived just in time to see the 
 lady, whom he had met in the road, step upon a 
 marvellously narrow crossboard and unhinge the wheel. 
 It went into the surging waters with a bounce, 
 churning the stream white as it rushed along down the 
 valley towards the city gates. The guards, when once 
 awakened, could find no one about. The priest had 
 entirely disappeared, and they began to think that the 
 whole thing was a dream, when they heard the well- 
 known and dreaded sound of the rushing waters, which 
 they had expected to hear for so many weeks. It had 
 come at last, then, this dreadful inundation which they 
 had expected and feared for so long. The guards 
 rushed to their posts, but in vain did they tug at the 
 chains and try to open the sluice-gates. They would 
 not turn, and all the time that dreadful sound of tearing, 
 rushing, boiling water came nearer and nearer, and the 
 men tugged harder and harder at the gates. It was of 
 no use. Suddenly they saw the mill-wheel spinning 
 down the valley, and with a crash it burst the gates 
 open, and the city and people were saved by the 
 miracle of Santa Buenaventura.
 
 THE MIRACLE OF SANTA BUENAVENTURA. 199 
 
 After the danger was past, the old priest naturally 
 became the object of great reverence and awe, for had 
 he not been addressed by Santa Buenaventura herself ? 
 and had she not charged him with the message to the 
 guards ? 
 
 The old priest carefully withheld the scolding he had 
 also received from the beautiful saint, but would tell 
 the story in the way which told best for him to anyone 
 who would listen. The wheel was considered far too 
 sacred to be used in the mill any more, and was care- 
 fully placed under glass at the foot of the shrine of 
 Santa Buenaventura, the deliverer of Daroca.
 
 XXI. 
 THE SILVER SPECTRE. 
 
 FROM the days of the Phoenicians there were silver- 
 mines known in Spain ; and as centuries went on, while 
 some became exhausted, others were found to take their 
 place. Some, as we all know, still remain. The hope 
 of finding the precious metal, and of suddenly becoming 
 rich, was one to which the imagination of the people 
 always clung ; and, like other popular fancies, it took 
 shape in legends of gnomes and dwarfs, who helped 
 dim-sighted mortals to find the hidden treasures. 
 
 In one of the mountainous districts where silver 
 abounds, but where until then it had remained un- 
 discovered, there lived a certain poor muleteer, named 
 Pablo Fornarete. He was employed by a man who 
 had made a large fortune by breeding a fine strain of 
 mules, to convey these mules across the plains and 
 sell them in Madrid, and across the mountains into 
 France. Although his master was rich, and his 
 journeys were long, and sometimes very dangerous as 
 well as fatiguing, he was paid a mere pittance, which 
 was just enough to keep body and soul together. As 
 he travelled peacefully along the high-roads, he occasion- 
 ally met rich senores riding fine blood-horses, with 
 embroidered trappings and all the outward signs of 
 wealth ; and simple-minded Pablo used sometimes to 
 wonder in his own mind why the dear Sefior made
 
 THE SILVER SPECTRE. 2Ot 
 
 some so very rich, and permitted others to remain so 
 very poor, though they worked hard all their lives to 
 keep skin and bone together. But- it never occurred 
 to him to be in the least jealous of these rich people ; 
 only he could not help wishing that the Madonna would 
 put a little more into his pocket. For with just a little 
 more he could marry his dear Rosita, down there in 
 Andalucia, who had been waiting for him so long. 
 When these tempting thoughts and delusive wishes 
 crossed his mind, good honest Pablo would sigh and 
 show his teeth, light his pipe, and beat his mules a 
 little faster along the road. But he had nothing bad 
 in him, and gradually he would become his own con- 
 tented self again, merely saying, " It is not the will 
 of the Domine Dios yet. Paciencia ! " 
 
 Some of the stretches of country that he had to 
 traverse were so long that he was often unable to reach 
 any kind of shelter for the night. At those times he 
 used to lie down in the fields with his mules and sleep 
 with one eye open, watching that none of his master's 
 property was stolen. In the summer it was very 
 pleasant to lie out in the open air, with the stars 
 above him, watching the fire-flies as they sparkled and 
 flitted in the brushwood or over the wild flowers, which 
 grew freely everywhere over the plain. But in the 
 winter it was quite a different matter. The wind 
 blew so bleakly that he could only wrap himself up 
 in his warm cloak and get as near his animals as he 
 could, for their heat. The stars used to blink at him, 
 he thought, to encourage him ; but they and the moon 
 seemed cold and unkind, and he never wasted much 
 time in looking at them in winter, anxious to get as 
 much sleep as he could before starting again in the 
 cold bleak dawn. 
 
 One summer's night Pablo, metaphorically speaking,
 
 202 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 pitched his tent in a valley at the foot of a chain of 
 curiously shaped and rugged mountains. It was a 
 lovely night, and the valley was filled with the sweet 
 scent of flowers. The sky was unclouded, and the 
 moon sailed in queen-like fashion through the vast 
 space which belonged to her. The entire valley lay 
 bathed in silver light, and the fire-flies were not visible 
 in the universal brightness. 
 
 Pablo saw that his mules we're comfortably nibbling 
 at their pasture preparatory to resting for the night, 
 before he stretched himself near them, and rolling a 
 cigarette began to smoke. He could not sleep on such a 
 night so early, and with his progress with the cigarette 
 his thoughts became more active. 
 
 His mind travelled to Andalucia, where Rosita lived, 
 and he wondered what she was doing at that moment 
 while he was dreaming in the open air. Then he 
 wondered when he would ever earn enough to marry 
 her, and thought what a nice wife she would make, and 
 how she would bring sunshine with her wherever she 
 went, and make his small means seem twice as much. 
 At last, in the midst of his castles in Andalucia he fell 
 sound asleep. 
 
 When he awoke, the moon had nearly set, and the 
 valley was only half as bright as when he went to sleep. 
 He looked towards the chain of mountains at the end of 
 the valley, and their sides appeared to be running with 
 bright silvery streams down their rugged sides. Pablo 
 could not believe his eyes, and rubbed them to be sure 
 that he was quite awake. But all the same, when he 
 looked again, there were still the bright silvery ridges 
 on the mountain running as lava does on the sides of 
 Mount Vesuvius during an eruption. And on the top 
 of the mountain there was the figure of a man, in 
 shining armour, with lance and spear, preparing to
 
 THE SILVER SPECTRE. 203 
 
 descend into the valley. Pablo gazed awe-struck at 
 the whole scene, and bathed his eyes with the dew 
 lying on the bushes all around him ; but still he saw 
 the same thing. After a time, however, fatigue over- 
 came him, and he again slept soundly. 
 
 Suddenly he heard a voice, almost in his ears, saying 
 in a whisper : " Do not forget the spot where you saw 
 me. It means a fortune to you, and the power of 
 making your dear Rosita rich for life. I am the 
 guardian of the silver mines, and appear only at certain 
 seasons of the year. Do not forget me, for I may prove 
 to be your best friend." Saying which he vanished. 
 
 Pablo was in a very disturbed and miserable state of 
 mind when he awoke. He longed to go straight to 
 those distant mountains, and see whether they con- 
 tained silver or not. But the dawn was breaking, and 
 he had a long way to trudge with the mules before they 
 could reach any shelter for the night. He gave one 
 long scrutinizing glance at the particular mountain on 
 which he had seen the streams of molten silver. But 
 the mountain told no tales. It reared its proud head, 
 grey and stern-looking in the dawn, and gave no sign 
 that anything extraordinary had happened in the night. 
 So Pablo was forced to be content with the memory of 
 what he had seen, and started off with his mules at a 
 brisk rate towards their destination for the night. 
 
 He met various friends on the road other muleteers 
 who were going home again after a fair day's sale and 
 had many gay and gossiping conversations, which, 
 peasant-like, he enjoyed hugely, and picked up plenty 
 of knowledge of his friends' doings. But all the time 
 he thought over the extraordinary scene that he had 
 witnessed, and heard that curious low whisper in his 
 ears : " Do not forget the spot where you saw me. It 
 means a fortune to you, and the power of making your
 
 104 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 dear Rosita rich for life." These words were a running 
 musical accompaniment to everything that he did or 
 said. Even the heels of the mules seemed to keep 
 time with them. They nearly maddened him those 
 everlasting cadences; for although he racked his brains 
 to see how he could be benefited by the Silver Spectre, 
 he could see no way by which he could become rich. 
 The Silver Spectre had himself said that he only ap- 
 peared at certain times of the year. Probably he should, 
 therefore, never see his "best friend" again, and he was 
 not at all certain in his own mind that he should know 
 the exact peak of the chain upon which he had seen 
 the silver lava. 
 
 His thoughts became very melancholy as he con- 
 tinued his long and tedious journey. Once arrived at 
 Pau, however, he had no time for speculation or 
 dreaming ; for he was so busy in selling his mules at a 
 good price that it was only when he started to go back 
 again with a newly purchased pack-mule, laden with 
 necessaries and French articles, that he remembered 
 his curious experience with the Silver Spectre. 
 
 He stopped as usual in the same valley to rest and 
 sleep, and was just unburdening his new mule to let 
 her graze about and lie down, when he saw a tall, rather 
 handsome man coming towards him, dressed in a long 
 grey garment like a priest's. He carried a pilgrim's 
 staff in his hand, and seemed to be very weary and 
 footsore. 
 
 " My brother," he said, addressing Pablo, " can you 
 help me to get up that mountain in front of us ? Your 
 mule is still fresh, and in any case cannot be as tired as 
 I am. I wish to visit a hermit brother who lives half- 
 way up the mountain, and I will reward you amply if 
 you will only consent to let me use your mule." 
 
 Pablo resisted for a long time the tempting induce-
 
 THE SILVER SPECTRE. 205 
 
 ments which the tired traveller offered him. But when 
 he discovered after a little more parley that the par- 
 ticular mountain which the pilgrim wished to climb 
 was the identical one on which he had seen the streams 
 of silver lava, he consented to lend the mule to the 
 stranger, on condition that he should accompany him. 
 This was readily agreed to. The pack was hidden 
 away in the bushes in case of robbers, the mule was re- 
 saddled, and they started for the mountain, the pilgrim 
 on the mule, and Pablo trudging patiently behind. 
 
 When they had climbed half-way up the mountain- 
 side, the stranger dismounted, and throwing the reins 
 to Pablo, said : 
 
 " Remain here for a time and wait for me. But should 
 I not return by dawn, wait no longer, for you will know 
 then that I shall not need either the mule or you any 
 more." 
 
 He then went farther up the mountain, turned round 
 a sharp angle, and disappeared from Pablo's sight. For 
 a time the pack-mule nibbled here and there wherever 
 a scrap of green cropped up. But rinding this amuse- 
 ment rather a losing game than otherwise, it went 
 quietly off to sleep. Pablo entertained himself by 
 exploring the mountain and trying to knock off bits of 
 the rock with his boot, hoping to find some small 
 nuggets of silver. But the bits of rock which he 
 knocked off were very much like other rocks that 
 he had seen before, and he sat down, disappointed 
 and angry, to await the return of the stranger. Then 
 it suddenly occurred to him that the pilgrim had given 
 him no payment, although he had promised him ample 
 reward. If he returned, it would be all right ; but if 
 he did not, he should have gained nothing except need- 
 less fatigue for a man whom he had never seen before 
 in his life. This did not improve his temper, and he
 
 2 o6 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 started off in the direction which the stranger had 
 taken, hoping to find him and square accounts at once. 
 But he searched in vain. No one was to be seen, and 
 after screaming and shouting till he was tired, an over- 
 whelming weariness and sleepiness came upon him, and 
 stretching himself out on the ground he fell sound 
 asleep. 
 
 When he awoke the day was just breaking, and no 
 one was in sight. Pablo then began again to shout and 
 call, but with the same results as the evening before. 
 Very angry was he as he made his way down the moun- 
 tain to where his mule was tied, cursing and swearing 
 and vowing that he never would do a good-natured 
 thing again for any stranger, were he the angel Gabriel 
 himself. As he placed the pack upon the mule, he 
 thought the saddle-bags felt extraordinarily heavy, and 
 putting his hand in he found them filled with large 
 pieces of rock similar to those which he had knocked 
 off the mountain the night before. At first, in his rage 
 at being deceived, he was inclined to throw all this 
 heavy lumber away ; but he suddenly remembered the 
 silver streams down the mountain-side and the words 
 of the Silver Spectre. They were soothing and comfort- 
 ing to him, and quickly replacing the heavy lumps in 
 the saddle-bags, he started for his master's house. 
 When he reached home, he told his master what he 
 had seen and heard, and showed him the curious pieces 
 of rock which had so enraged him. The quick eye of 
 the master caught sight of little threads of white sifting 
 in tiny veins all through the rock, which had escaped 
 the rougher sense of his servant. He borrowed some 
 of the blocks from Pablo, and went with them to a 
 friend who was skilled in geology, as then understood. 
 
 He at once saw that there was money to be made 
 out of it, and inquired where these pieces of rock had
 
 THE SILVER SPECTRE. 207 
 
 been found. Pablo's master could not tell anything 
 about it, and reluctantly confessed that his muleteer 
 had picked them up somewhere on the road. He had 
 hoped to enrich himself at Pablo's expense, and would 
 have done so had he not foolishly forgotten to ask the 
 name and position of the mountain. 
 
 Pablo was at once sent for, and saw that something 
 important had happened, and that it had something to 
 do with the rocks. He refused to tell where he had 
 found them unless he was rewarded for his information. 
 A sum of money was given to him at once, and more 
 promised him if he would conduct the geologist and 
 his friends to [the mountain itself, if things proved to 
 be what he supposed them to be a silver mine of great 
 richness. 
 
 Pablo did what he agreed to do, and the mountain 
 proved to contain a very rich silver mine. Pablo was 
 handsomely paid. He was rich enough to marry his 
 dear Rosita, and went to live in Malaga, where by care- 
 ful saving and hard work he in later life became, for a 
 peasant, a very rich man. But he never ceased to 
 attribute his success to the pilgrim stranger ; and used 
 to relate with much delight his adventures with the 
 Silver Spectre.
 
 XXII. 
 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA* 
 
 WHEN King Ferdinand waged war against the Moors 
 and at last expelled them from Spain, a certain Moor, 
 named Clotaldo, was elected one of their chiefs, because 
 of his great strength and bravery. He married and had 
 three daughters the most beautiful creatures that 
 mortal eye had ever seen. The king, their father, loved 
 them so much that he could not bear to part with 
 them, and when they became of marriageable age he 
 shut them up in a tower, which he had built for them 
 on the top of a high mountain, and shut off from the 
 rest of the world by precipices on three sides. He, 
 being himself a magician, left them in the care of three 
 enchanted horses, who were very wild and formidable 
 to all who came near. Then the king felt sure that 
 nothing and no one could get at his daughters. In a 
 moment of vain boasting he said, that any man who 
 
 I have traced this story to the " Romancero General," vol. ii., 
 p. 284, where it is called the " Enchanted Princesses, and the Bad 
 Faith of Brothers," and it is attributed to Alonzo de Morales. 
 Whether in such cases priority is to be given to the version in 
 poetry or the one in prose, it is impossible to say. In the little 
 note attached to it, the collector and arranger, Don Agustin 
 Duran, remarks on the fact that among the multitude of stories 
 which for generations everybody has known by heart, so small a 
 number have ever found their way into print. 
 
 Traces of this same story are to be found in Washington Irving's 
 " Tales of the Alhambra," i.e., " The Three Princesses." I have 
 given the story as it was told to me, and it tallies pretty nearly with 
 the Romancero poem.
 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA. 209 
 
 brought him his three daughters from this fortress 
 tower should marry one of them. The report spread 
 through the land, and young knights, the flower of 
 Spanish chivalry, came from far and wide to try their 
 fortunes and risk their lives for the sweet sakes of 
 these beautiful creatures. But one and all failed, and 
 lost their heads according to the mandate of the king. 
 At last, three brothers from Denmark, well born and 
 very handsome, attracted by the prospect of encounter- 
 ing dangers and difficulties in rescuing these lovely 
 captives, came to the court in Africa, and begged per- 
 mission to enter the lists as competitors for the hands 
 of the princesses. The two eldest brothers only 
 asked that horses and weapons should be furnished 
 them. But the third brother begged that he might 
 have a cart with two oxen, a cord two miles in length, 
 some nails, a hammer, and enough provisions for a 
 week. The king, quite certain that his daughters were 
 beyond the reach of human rescue, provided all that 
 the brothers asked, and the two eldest rode off on their 
 fleet steeds in triumph. They soon arrived at their 
 destination, but they looked and longed and sighed in 
 vain, for no earthly way could they discover of scaling 
 the precipices. At last, after two days of idleness and 
 despair, they returned to the city, prepared to die. On 
 the way back, however, they met their youngest brother, 
 who was coming slowly along with his oxen. They 
 told him how desperately high the castle tower was, 
 and tried to discourage him in every way ; but neither 
 threats, nor entreaties, nor discouragements could 
 daunt him ; and he at last persuaded his brothers to 
 return with him, as he was sure, he said, that by some 
 means or other he should liberate the three princesses, 
 and then the three brothers would marry the three 
 sisters. For a week he tried to scale the precipices and
 
 2io SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 failed ; but at last he found a place at which he could 
 get a footing, and by almost superhuman exertion 
 he managed to climb to the top. Before he started 
 he wrapped the cord round him, and tucked the 
 hammer and some nails into his belt. When he 
 reached the top of the mountain, the fortress door 
 opened, and three of the most beautiful beings he had 
 ever dreamed of stood before him. The eldest said : 
 " Oh, most noble and valiant knight, what evil star has 
 led thee to this castle ? How didst thou contrive to 
 climb up to us ? Know, O knight, young and hand- 
 some though thou art, nothing but death awaits thee ; 
 for we are enchanted princesses, and under the care of 
 wild horses who will trample thee under their feet." 
 
 Then the three beautiful creatures began to weep. 
 The young knight was much disturbed at their tears, 
 and said : " Oh, lovely maidens, death would be a 
 delight in such a cause ! My heart is oppressed at your 
 lamentations, but I shall, I am sure, be able to save 
 you, if you will but obey my directions." 
 
 They joyfully promised to obey him in everything, 
 and he prepared to fasten the rope securely to one of 
 the battlements. In this way he let down two of the 
 princesses ; when it came to the turn of the third 
 princess, Fatima, to descend, she unfastened a neck- 
 lace from her throat and said to the young knight: 
 " Most noble preserver, accept this small token of our 
 boundless gratitude. Never part with it, whatever 
 happens ; it will help you through all difficulties, and 
 you have many still before you, one of which is to pull 
 out a hair from the tail of each of the three horses, 
 our guardians ;" and, saying this, she tied the rope 
 around her, and reached the ground safely. The two 
 young knights below had watched their brother's pro- 
 gress with rage and envy in their hearts. No sooner,
 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA. 211 
 
 therefore, had the third princess descended than they 
 cut the rope, mounted their swift horses with the 
 three fair damsels, and sped away like the wind to the 
 court of Clotaldo, who was much amazed at seeing 
 his three daughters safe and sound on the earth again, 
 instead of in the tower on the mountain-top where 
 he had placed them. He could not go back from 
 his word, however, and the two young knighst were 
 married in due time to Zoraide and Zuleika. 
 
 The poor youngest brother, meanwhile, was shut up 
 in the mountain tower. At first, when he saw the 
 trick which had been played upon him, he was in 
 despair, and sat down to think over his desperate 
 condition, and try to find some way of escape. At last 
 he bethought himself of the horses whom he was to 
 master. Sadly he went through the deserted palace, 
 in which he found continual traces of the occupations 
 and amusements of the three beautiful girls whom he 
 had just freed. At last he came to the stables in which 
 the three horses lived. At the sound of the door being 
 opened, he heard a great plunging and tearing about. 
 For a few minutes the young knight hesitated, then, 
 taking the necklace in his hand, he attached it to a 
 button of his coat and opened the door wide. A 
 strange spectacle was before him. The three horses 
 were standing side by side, rearing on their hind-legs, 
 prepared to trample upon anyone who intruded upon 
 their domain. But as soon as they caught sight of the 
 necklace dangling from his button-hole, they became 
 as docile and obedient as children. They rubbed their 
 heads against him, and let him fondle them, while they 
 walked round him, neighing with pleasure. They 
 even allowed him to secure the hair from each of their 
 tails, which the princess Fatima had told him he must 
 possess. He at last jumped upon the back of the 
 
 142
 
 212 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 smallest and apparently wildest of the horses, and lo ! 
 the animal gave a tremendous leap, and he felt him- 
 self carried over the battlements of the castle and 
 sailing through the air. When he could control his 
 nerves enough to look, he opened his eyes, and saw a 
 country around him full of mountains and rocks which 
 he had never seen before. When they had reached the 
 ground in safety, the horse stopped of its own accord, 
 and when the young knight had dismounted, the horse 
 said : " My master, if you ever need assistance from 
 me, or from my comrades, you have only to blow upon 
 the hairs which you have in your keeping, once, twice, 
 or thrice, as you require us once is for me; twice 
 for two of us ; three times for us all." Having said 
 this and fondled his master once more, the horse sud- 
 denly gave a cry, spread out its fore -legs and dis- 
 appeared. The young knight wandered about for 
 some time, bewildered and unhappy, not knowing 
 where he was, and feeling strange and lonely. At last 
 he met a shepherd, dressed in skins. He inquired his 
 way of him, and persuaded him to change clothes with 
 him. Then the young knight killed a young lamb, and 
 of the skin made himself a cap. By dint of begging 
 and pretending to be a fool, which always claims com- 
 passion in Spain, he contrived to find his way to the 
 court of Clotaldo. 
 
 Here he determined still to keep his incognito and 
 sat as a mendicant in the courtyard of the palace, 
 ready to run errands and pick up any information that 
 he could. He constantly saw his two wicked brothers 
 going in and out of the palace, and his heart burned 
 sorely as he watched ; but he had patience, and bided 
 his time. 
 
 Meanwhile the Princess Fatima resisted the constant 
 entreaties of her father that she should marry, hoping 

 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA. 213 
 
 that some kind fate would contrive to send the young 
 man to whom she had presented her necklace once 
 more across her path. She therefore had another 
 necklace made precisely like the one she had left 
 behind her at the castle. When it was finished, she 
 said to her father, who still tormented her to give him 
 a son-in-law : 
 
 " If you really wish me so ardently to marry, I will 
 do so on one condition only. Whoever will bring me 
 a necklace, exactly like this one in every particular, shall 
 be my husband." 
 
 The king, overjoyed at his daughter's decision, im- 
 mediately sent the necklace, by the fool at the door, to 
 the best jeweller in the city, desiring him to find some 
 one who could bring the duplicate of the gems to him 
 in twenty days. If no one was found by that time, he 
 should pay with his life. All sorts of jewels were sent 
 to Manuel the jeweller to look at, but none of them was 
 quite like the beautiful necklace sent by the king. At 
 last he was compelled to try and copy it himself. 
 Necklace after necklace was finished, and sent up for 
 inspection, but there was always some defect or some 
 difference. And the days slipped by. At last, the 
 evening of the nineteenth day came, and the poor 
 Manuel looked sad, weary, and desperate, and prepared 
 for death the next day. The fool, who had watched him 
 very carefully, came to him at night and said : 
 
 " My master, what is the matter with you, that you 
 go about so heavily and look so sad ?" 
 
 "Well, fool," returned Manuel, "it can do me no 
 harm to confide to you my woe, for my hours are num- 
 bered now, and my heart will feel easier for telling my 
 secret to some one, no matter to whom." 
 
 Then he told all his dilemma, and how he was pre- 
 pared to die on the morrow, as agreed upon, in case
 
 214 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 of failure. Then he showed the young knight the 
 necklace. With great delight he recognised the copy 
 of the one that Fatima had given him. 
 
 " Master," he said, " do not be discouraged. By 
 dawn to-morrow you shall have the duplicate, on my 
 word of honour !" 
 
 " Your word of honour on earth is worth nothing, 
 O fool !" answered Manuel. " I was a fool to tell you, 
 for you are nearer heaven than I."* 
 
 The fool said not a word, but went a mile outside 
 the gates of the city, and blew upon one of the tail- 
 hairs of the enchanted horses. Instantly the smallest 
 horse appeared, and asked him what he wanted. 
 
 " I have left the necklace in the clothes which I 
 exchanged with the shepherd where you left me. By 
 dawn I must have it." 
 
 " It shall be done, my master," answered the horse, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 At dawn the next day Manuel was roused by the fool, 
 who brought the duplicate necklace in his hand. 
 
 Manuel was overjoyed. " The love of Allah has 
 overshadowed you, my brother," he said. And at the 
 appointed time he took the necklace to the king. 
 
 Fatima at once recognised the necklace which she 
 had given to the young knight, and demanded so impera- 
 tively of whom Manuel had got the gems, that he 
 although greatly tempted by the fascination of her 
 beauty to claim the finding of the necklace for himself 
 could not get the words out, but told the story as it 
 really was, from beginning to end. The king immedi- 
 ately sent for the finder, thinking that anyone possess- 
 ing such a jewel must be of, at least, decent and pre- 
 sentable birth. His horror may therefore be imagined 
 
 This is a Spanish superstition, that idiots are nearer to the 
 Divine Heart than the sane.
 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA. 215 
 
 when his future son-in-law presented himself in the 
 shape of an ill-clothed shepherd, and apparently an 
 idiot besides. But the eyes of love are keen. Fatima 
 was not deceived by the disguise. She knew her young 
 knight at once, and the two contrived a meeting in 
 which everything was explained to Fatima, and they 
 agreed that his present disguise- should be kept up 
 until he saw his path clear for the full justification of 
 himself, and the certain disgrace of his unworthy and 
 disloyal brothers. 
 
 In vain did the king remonstrate with Fatima 
 against her extraordinary and disgusting choice. He 
 was none too pleased with the sons-in-law whom 
 he already had, he told Fatima ; but that she, his 
 favourite daughter, should choose an idiot and a dirty 
 shepherd for her husband, nearly broke his heart. But 
 Fatima insisted upon marrying the man who had fur- 
 nished her with the necklace. 
 
 " It is your own doing," she answered the king. 
 " You have urged me to marry many times. I promised 
 to accept the man who should bring me the duplicate 
 of my necklace, and my royal word cannot be broken. 
 My birth obliges me to keep it." 
 
 The only way, therefore, in which the king could 
 vent his spite upon his new son-in-law, was by in- 
 sisting that after the wedding ceremony the young 
 couple should live outside the city gates. But even 
 this slight did not disturb the sweet temper and 
 patience of the " fool," as he was universally called. 
 The marriage took place, and the young couple lived, 
 as the king had ordered, outside the city walls. 
 
 Fatima had been married about a year, when her 
 father was afflicted with some trouble of the eyes, by 
 which his sight was threatened. The best doctors 
 could do nothing for him, and said that he would be-
 
 2 1 6 SPA NISH LEGEND A RY TA LES. 
 
 come blind unless he could procure water from a foun- 
 tain in Asia* very difficult to find with which to bathe 
 them. The young knight, as soon as he heard what 
 was needed, went a mile away from his house, and blew 
 once upon the hair of his favourite horse. Immedi- 
 ately it appeared. 
 
 " What does my master desire ?" it said. 
 
 " Some water from the fountain in Asia." 
 
 " It shall be brought, my master," replied the horse, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 In a day it returned carrying, tied to its mane, a 
 large gourd full of the water desired. As the young 
 knight was making his way towards the palace, with 
 his precious burden, he met his two brothers going 
 in search of the wonderful lotion prescribed for the 
 king. 
 
 " Too late, my friends !'' he cried, with triumph. " I 
 have the precious remedy here, and am carrying it my- 
 self to the king." 
 
 " What will you sell it for, fool ?" inquired they 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I will sell it for the gold and silver pears which the 
 king gave you when you were married," answered the 
 fool. 
 
 They gave him the two gold and silver pears he de- 
 manded, and carried the water in triumph to the palace. 
 The king's eyes were cured directly, and the two sons- 
 in-law were duly praised and applauded for their devo- 
 tion to the king. 
 
 Not many months passed before the king was at- 
 tacked by a grievous internal complaint, which tor- 
 mented him very much and which threatened his life. 
 
 The doctors recommended the milk of a lioness from 
 
 I need not say that I am not responsible for the geography or 
 history of these tales. 
 

 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA. 217 
 
 the jungles of India, and said that nothing else would 
 cure him. But the lioness must be persuaded to part 
 with her milk, and not killed or wounded to procure it. 
 The two sons-in-law were in despair. They did not 
 know what to do, and the king quite made up his mind 
 that his fate was sealed. The young knight walked a 
 mile away from his home, and blew on two of the hairs 
 which he had got at the mountain fortress. The two 
 horses came obedient to his call, and inquired what 
 they could do for their master. 
 
 " Get me some milk from a live lioness in the jungles 
 of India," he replied. 
 
 "Master, it shall be done," they said, and disap- 
 peared. 
 
 Before night he had a large gourd full of milk, and 
 proceeded to the palace with his prize. On the way 
 he met his brothers, who greeted him with : 
 
 " And what has our fool got this time ?" 
 
 " Some lioness's milk for the king's complaint," he 
 answered. 
 
 "What will you sell it for?" 
 
 " Only for one thing, and that is that you will let 
 me cut off the left ear of each of you," replied the 
 fool. 
 
 The two brothers considered a great while before 
 they consented, and tried to coax the fool to take some- 
 thing more reasonable in exchange for the milk ; but 
 the fool was inexorable the ears he would have, or 
 nothing. So the brothers consented to have their left 
 ears cut off, thinking that their hair would conceal the 
 loss. And they took the milk to the king, who was 
 instantly cured, and the sons-in-law came in for an 
 immense deal of praise from the world for their devo- 
 tion to the king. 
 
 Six months had hardly passed before Clotaldo heard
 
 218 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 that a neighbouring king was coming to wage war 
 against him. He therefore sent for his two sons-in-law, 
 and desired them to go and reconnoitre and give him 
 an account of the number and force of the enemy. The 
 fool meanwhile had called his three horses, and started 
 to meet the enemy. Like Sant' Jago, he appeared like 
 a meteor on his white horse, carried dismay into the 
 ranks of the enemy and put them to flight, and re- 
 turned with the head of the chief upon his spear. 
 When he turned to thank his three horses on his arrival 
 home, he found three handsome young men beside 
 him. 
 
 " It is we who should thank you, our master, for 
 liberating us from our enchantment," they said. 
 
 The young knight was on his way to the palace with 
 his trophies wheji he met his two brothers going on 
 their errand of spies. 
 
 " Time well lost, my friends," he said. " I have 
 fought the battle with the assistance of my friends (in- 
 troducing the three young men), and am now on my 
 way to the king with the head of his enemy." 
 
 " What will you sell it for, fool ?" inquired the 
 brothers. 
 
 " I will sell it on one condition, and one only : that 
 you allow me to brand you as my slaves with a red-hot 
 iron." 
 
 The brothers demurred very much at this con- 
 dition ; but as on no other terms could they obtain 
 their coveted prize, and as no one would see the mark 
 under their clothes, they allowed the fool to brand 
 them with the letters of his name, and departed to the 
 palace with their dearly purchased trophy. 
 
 Now the king, in spite of all that the two brothers 
 had done for him, could not endure the sight of them. 
 Fatima, his favourite child, had not been to see him 

 
 ZULEIKA, ZORAIDE AND FATIMA. 219 
 
 since her wedding-day, alleging as the reason that 
 where her husband could not go, she would not either. 
 The king was very angry with the fool for not trying 
 more to please him and restore the family peace ; and 
 as he was the most available person upon whom to 
 vent his wrath, he gave orders that he and Fatima 
 should leave the country, and never return to it. 
 
 The young knight and his wife accepted their fate 
 without a word, only begging that, as a last favour, they 
 might give a farewell feast, at which every one of note 
 at the court should assist. People laughed and 
 shrugged their shoulders, and said the fool was more 
 foolish than ever ; but nevertheless they were quite 
 willing to give him a pleasure which cost them nothing, 
 and they accepted. 
 
 The evening came, and, to the astonishment of all, 
 the young knight appeared handsome and clean, and 
 dressed in the most superb costume, studded with 
 differently coloured precious stones. 
 
 " My time has come," he said, as he approached 
 Clotaldo, with the beautiful Fatima upon his arm. 
 
 Then he told his story from beginning to end : how 
 he had liberated the three princesses, and been de- 
 frauded by his brothers ; how he had got the water 
 from the fountain in Asia, and he showed the gold and 
 silver pears which his brothers had paid for it ; how he 
 had got the milk from the lioness, and he showed the 
 ears he had cut off, and asked the king to shave off the 
 whiskers and cut off the hair of his brothers, and the ears 
 fitted exactly ; how he had fought the battle and killed 
 the king here he made his brothers bare their shoulders, 
 and showed that they were his slaves, with his initials 
 branded upon them. 
 
 The king was so delighted that he made the young 
 knight his successor. The two unnatural brothers and
 
 220 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 their wives were banished from the city, and publicly 
 disgraced. 
 
 The king lived but a short time after these events 
 took place, and Fatima and the young knight reigned 
 in his stead. 

 
 XXIII. 
 THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOND BLOSSOM. 
 
 I. 
 
 IN the days when Toledo was still in the possession of 
 the Moors, there was a grand assembling of the tribes 
 for the tournament given by Azarque in honour of 
 Celindaja. The city was all astir with bustle and con- 
 fusion the night before. There were to be feats of arms 
 and dancing. There were to be feasts and tiltings. 
 The courtyards were filled with slaves cleaning their 
 masters' arms, polishing their lances, sharpening their 
 arrows, and fastening the pennons and standards that 
 were to wave on the morrow. 
 
 There were collected in and about the city all the 
 tribes then famous for chivalry and bravery, such as. 
 the Gomeles of Granada, the Gazules of Alcala, the 
 Audalles from Ronda, the Sarracinos from Cordova, the 
 Mazas, the Alfarries, and the Achapices ; and above all 
 the Azarques, the powerful Vanegas, the Portoleses, 
 and the Abencerrajes. For had they not come to do 
 honour to Azarque and Celindaja ? And were ever 
 lovers more worthy of honour and festivities than they 
 the one so fair and graceful, the other so noble and 
 renowned both in love and war ? 
 
 The day broke fair and clear, and all Toledo went 
 wild with astonishment and admiration of the beautiful
 
 222 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 sight that passed before their eyes. All the tribes 
 were of equal bravery and strength, and dressed in 
 their particular costumes. The Gazules were in red 
 liveries, with fringes of fine gold, and scarlet and yellow 
 plumes in their caps ; the Audallas in yellow liveries, 
 with grey, blue, and white plumes in their caps. The 
 Saracinos wore blue, mulberry, and straw colours. 
 The soldiers from Granada wore scarlet liveries, and 
 the pomegranate waved upon their banner ; while the 
 Azarques, bearing themselves more arrogantly than the 
 rest, wore green, yellow, and black plumes upon their 
 caps. The others put on their best and most beautiful 
 garments, and all made a brilliant display in the 
 narrow streets of Toledo. The city resounded with 
 trumpets and martial music. Every window was filled 
 with heads as the procession passed to the Zocodover, 
 where the festivities were to take place. 
 
 The queen of the fete was of course Celindaja, who 
 in her splendour, all silk and gold embroidery, shone 
 like the moon among the stars. Her languid, almond- 
 shaped dark eyes and ruddy hair made a striking con- 
 trast to the olive skins and jet-black locks of her 
 companions. And Azarque walked beside her, proud 
 of the beauty whom he could call his own. 
 
 There were tiltings and tournaments, feats of archery, 
 and games of skilful riding, and the Azarques always 
 gained the day. When at last the Moors were tired 
 of the sports, and had won the hearts and tender 
 glances of the languid Granadine beauties scattered 
 about over the Plaza, dressed in their most gorgeous 
 clothes, a trumpet sounded. Three or four beautiful 
 calls were played upon it, to the great astonishment of 
 the Moorish bands assembled for amusement and 
 festivity. 
 
 "It is a Christian bugle-call!" cried Azarque, starting 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOND BLOSSOM. 223 
 
 from his place. "The Christians must be upon 
 us!" 
 
 This speech broke up the gathering, and the differ- 
 ent tribes began to prepare for battle, united by 
 a common danger. At last there appeared upon the 
 scene a herald bearing a white flag. The Moors at 
 once placed their weapons in rest, and Azarque rose 
 to demand the intruder's errand. 
 
 " I come on the part of Don Ramiro of Aragon," 
 replied the herald, " to request that he may be allowed 
 to join in the wedding rejoicings of the chivalrous and 
 noble Azarque and the lovely Celindaja." 
 
 " Is he alone ?" Azarque asked. 
 
 " Quite alone, excepting for his own immediate 
 servants, of whom I am one." 
 
 Permission was then given to him to join in the 
 festivities, and the Moors most renowned for bravery 
 and skill were ordered to engage with him in the 
 tournament. 
 
 In a few minutes a knight, clad cap-a-pie in mail, 
 appeared seated upon a beautiful charger white as 
 milk. His visor was up, and his horse was adorned 
 with rich crimson velvet trappings, studded with gold 
 and precious stones. His armour was of steel, and the 
 only colour that he wore was a pink scarf across his 
 shoulder and over his breast, while in his casque he 
 had a branch of pink almond blossom. His motto was 
 " Fidelity." 
 
 After bowing low in the direction of the balcony, in 
 which were assembled the queen of the feast, Celindaja, 
 and her attendants, the knight put his lance in rest, 
 and the herald threw his gauntlet down as a challenge 
 to the Moorish chiefs. 
 
 Now it happened that among the maidens assembled 
 round the lovely Celindaja, and permitted on account
 
 224 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 of the occasion to witness the games, was a Christian 
 maiden, who had been a captive for several years. 
 She belonged to a noble Aragonese family; but the 
 ransom demanded for her was too great for the poverty 
 of her people, and, hopeless of release, she had gradually 
 become reconciled to her new surroundings. For 
 months she had waited and watched in vain for news 
 of her deliverance. But summer changed to winter, 
 and winter blossomed into spring and summer, and 
 still no one came for Ysabella, the fair handmaiden of 
 Celindaja. Many eyes turned in her direction on this 
 day of rejoicing, and many were the suitors for her 
 favour, but her heart was stony and cold to all. She 
 received everyone with such disdain that Celindaja 
 rebuked her more than once for her haughtiness. 
 
 " Why dost thou treat my people with such con- 
 tempt ?" she would say to Ysabella. " The highest 
 chiefs of the Moors cast eyes of love upon thee, and 
 thou regardest them with disdain and aversion. Who 
 art thou, to despise the race of Islam ?" 
 
 " I am a Christian maiden," was Ysabella's answer, 
 while her eyes flashed and her cheeks glowed, "and 
 would die sooner than mate with a dog of a Moor !" 
 
 Celindaja was often so enraged at the obstinacy of 
 her handmaiden, that she punished her severely; but, 
 maltreat her as she might, Ysabella retained her cold 
 and haughty demeanour, and kept at a distance all who 
 tried to win her favour. At the jousts and tilting 
 Ysabella stood, as usual, behind her mistress's couch, 
 fanning her with an enormous fan made of peacock's 
 feathers mingled with gold and silver. Her dress was of 
 white silk striped with gold, with a blue vest and a cap 
 heavily fringed with gold sequins, while her long black 
 tresses hung nearly to her knees. Bangles of gold 
 clasped her wrists and arms, which were bare to the 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOND BLOSSOM. 225 
 
 shoulder ; and other bangles glittered on her ankles, 
 while her small feet were cased in blue silk slippers 
 crusted with silver embroideries. Her large eyes wan- 
 dered hither and thither, gazing listlessly at the gorgeous 
 spectacle before her. In vain did her admirers perform 
 feats of strength and fine horsemanship, hoping for a 
 smile of approbation from the lady of their heart. To 
 all she gave the same haughty disdainful inclination of 
 the head, and they passed on angry and disappointed. 
 
 Only when the coming of the Christian knight was 
 announced did a look of attention come into her face. 
 Even then it was not interest or eagerness that lit up 
 her eyes and made her draw herself proudly to her 
 full height. The very sight of the chain-mail, the 
 heavy charger, and trappings of the north, whence she 
 came, made her heart leap with pleasure, and remi- 
 niscences of former days of tournaments in her own 
 home came crowding upon her memory with painful 
 vividnesss. 
 
 Ysabella was tall and slight, and made a conspicuous 
 centre to the group, rising as she did above her com- 
 panions, and forming a fine background to the lovely 
 beauty of her mistress, who reclined rather than sat 
 upon her couch. No wonder that the first glance of 
 Don Ramiro fell upon her as he saluted Celindaja and 
 her maidens. 
 
 Had anyone in that splendid assembly noticed the 
 Christian slave called Ysabella, he would have seen her 
 first start suddenly and then lean eagerly forward for a 
 second view of the strange knight. 
 
 The first game of tilting was won, after a severe 
 struggle, by the Christian knight. The Moors, amazed 
 at the skill and prowess of their adversary, and aston- 
 ished at the novel style of defence which he introduced, 
 could not restrain their admiration, in spite of their 
 
 15
 
 226 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 mortification, and bursts of applause and shouts of 
 approval filled the arena, whose walls echoed and re- 
 echoed them. But none of these things did Ysabella 
 see ; the shouts of admiration fell dead on her ears, 
 for the favourite slave of Celindaja had fallen in a 
 swoon upon the floor. 
 
 ii. 
 
 The festivities and games lasted a week, and at the 
 end of that time much jealousy of the Christian knight 
 had arisen, first because he was nearly always victorious 
 in the lists, and, secondly, because Ysabella showed such 
 evident interest in the 'stranger. Many a Moorish 
 chieftain returned to his house with broken lance and 
 wounded body, vowing vengeance upon the man who 
 had overcome him. 
 
 The last day came, and the victors in the games 
 were to be honoured by receiving scarves from the 
 hands of the fairest of the ladies. Ysabella, as usual, 
 stood behind her mistress, but was dressed so differently 
 and so richly that even Azarque stared. Her usual blue 
 vest and sequins were exchanged for a beautiful pale, 
 amber-coloured silk, embroidered all over with pink 
 almond flowers, and her arms were covered with 
 bracelets and bangles. Her eyes were as brilliant as 
 stars, and her cheeks were bright with colour. No one 
 in Celindaja's train had ever seen the Aragonese slave 
 look so beautiful as she did that day. 
 
 After the procession, the Moorish chiefs, who were 
 jealous that the Aragonese knight should carry away 
 any of the honours due to themselves, begged the king 
 to insist that, as a last test of skill, Don Ramiro should 
 perform the special Moorish feat of picking up a 
 bracelet three times running with his spear while riding 
 at full gallop round the arena. Don Ramiro paused a 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOND BLOSSOM. 227 
 
 minute before complying with this request, but at last 
 said that he would do it on one condition, namely, that 
 he should have the bracelet of Ysabella, the Christian 
 slave. Celindaja and her Moorish attendants looked 
 angry at this stipulation, and eyed Ysabella with 
 jealousy and hatred in their hearts. She, however, 
 never changed colour, but calmly and haughtily un- 
 clasped a thick bracelet from her arm, and handed it 
 to her mistress, who gave it to Don Ramiro. 
 
 The Aragonese knight rode three times round the 
 arena at full gallop, and each time picked up the 
 bracelet with the utmost ease. Even the Moors them- 
 selves could not have done it with more perfect grace and 
 skill, and they forgot their jealousy and rage in admira- 
 tion of the wonderful horsemanship of their adversary. 
 When the knight came with the other victors to receive 
 the scarf, Celindaja herself was so delighted with his 
 adroitness and skill that she almost involuntarily took 
 off her sash from her waist, and, handing it to Ysabella, 
 said, " As you are a Christian, you can give it to him." 
 
 But Ysabella was too quick for her. Like a flash of 
 lightning she had unfastened and given her own sash 
 to the victor, which, curiously enough, matched the one 
 he wore across his breast. At the moment that he re- 
 ceived the scarf he returned the bracelet. The Christian 
 slave clasped the bracelet on her arm with apparent 
 disdain, but her heart was bounding and leaping within 
 her, for in the hollow of her bracelet she had seen a 
 folded paper. 
 
 in. 
 
 The tiltings and rejoicings were ended. The feasts, 
 however, kept on late into the night, and Don Ramiro 
 was feted with true Eastern hospitality. The populace 
 haunted the streets till the small hours, anxious to 
 
 152
 
 228 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 catch a glimpse, if only for a moment, of the splendid 
 trappings of the horses and the beautiful dresses of 
 their riders when the festivities should have ceased. 
 But all things come to an end, and gradually all was 
 still in the old Moorish city. 
 
 The quiet, crooked streets lay in tranquil silence, 
 when suddenly the muffled tread of horses' feet was 
 heard coming from the direction of the Alcazar. The 
 night was dark, the moon was just rising, and sending 
 a ghostly light through the streaks of clouds which 
 rose on either side, and scudded rapidly away towards 
 the east. Once in a while a gleam of light fell upon 
 the armour of three horsemen who were quietly, almost 
 stealthily, passing through the deserted and silent 
 streets. When they came .to the Puerta del Cambron 
 the sentinels were all asleep. Making as little noise 
 as he could, the slightest of the three horsemen un- 
 barred the gates, and, shutting everything carefully 
 behind him, mounted his horse, and away the three 
 went, racing over mountain and valley on their swift 
 steeds until they were safe from pursuit. 
 
 " Art thou able to keep up at such a pace?" anxiously 
 inquired the apparent leader of the party of the delicate- 
 looking page who followed him, and who at once rode 
 beside him, while the other attendant fell immediately 
 to the rear. 
 
 " I can do anything which will keep me near thee," 
 was the answer, in a rich sweet voice " anything that 
 will free me from that hated slavery." 
 
 For days and days they journeyed Don Ramiro 
 and his two followers ; Ysabella, the slender page, riding 
 as hard and faring as roughly as her companions. Once 
 over the Moorish frontier, however, Don Ramiro made 
 several halts to ease his companions, especially Ysabella, 
 who was treated with all the chivalry and deference 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE ALMOND BLOSSOM. 229 
 
 imaginable. For was she not betrothed to Don 
 Ramiro when they were mere babies ? and had he not 
 rescued her from a worse fate than death slavery ? 
 
 At last they came to Saragossa, after many days of 
 hard riding. As soon as the people knew that the 
 beauty of Saragossa was once more among them, the 
 whole city was decorated with flags, while brilliant 
 brocades and embroideries hung from all the balconies. 
 The bells rang throughout the city, and the people 
 thronged the streets, rejoicing at the return of Ysabella. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Some time after these occurrences Don Ramiro and 
 his beautiful bride Ysabella stood together on a terrace 
 overlooking the country around Saragossa. The moon 
 shone placidly over the quiet plain. 
 
 " Didst thou think that I had forgotten thee in thy 
 captivity among the Moors ?" whispered Don Ramiro. 
 
 " I hardly dared to hope," Ysabella whispered in 
 return. " After so many years it was hard to believe 
 that any of my own kindred remembered my existence." 
 
 " Dost thou remember the almond blossom which 
 thou gavest me long ago ? Thou saidst then that it 
 was the emblem of fidelity. I always wore a spray 
 afterwards. I had no idea whither thou hadst been 
 carried ; but I vowed that wherever thou mightest be, 
 thou shouldst see the emblem of our troth, and I felt 
 sure that thou wouldst respond." 
 
 "Fidelity is after all the peace of life," she answered.
 
 XXIV. 
 
 THE CORPORALES (ALTAR LINEN) OF DAROCA.* 
 
 As we have already had occasion to mention the village 
 of Daroca, in Legends VIII. and XX., there is no 
 necessity for describing again its picturesque position, 
 nor repeating that the place is liable to terrible inun- 
 dations. 
 
 Daroca, though so insignificant, has been the scene 
 of various miracles, and among them is one establish- 
 ing transubstantiation, equivalent to and almost con- 
 temporary with the similar and more famous miracle 
 which took place in Italy, at Bolsena. 
 
 Towards the middle of the thirteenth century there 
 lived a certain Count, named Berrenguer Dentenza. 
 He hated the Moors with an exceeding hatred, and 
 when not called upon to wage war against them for his 
 king, he did so for his private pleasure, and made raids 
 against every unoffending Moor who lived within his 
 reach. 
 
 There lived also about that time a certain powerful 
 
 This legend is mentioned in Ford, vol. ii., p. 875 ; in " La 
 Historia de los Corporales," Caspar Miguel de la Cueva, Zara- 
 gpza, 1590 ; in the "Rasgo" of Moza, p. 113; in the " Coro- 
 nica de Espana," Beuter, Valencia, 1602 ; and in the " Antigiie- 
 dades," Nunez y Quiles, Zaragoza, 1691. It is an old legend, but 
 still very popular.
 
 THE CORPORALES OF DAROCA. 231 
 
 chieftain of the Moors, in the Castle of Chio, in 
 Valencia. Muza Ben Za.ra.il was exceedingly respected 
 and loved, not only by his own people but by the 
 Christians of the province, for his wisdom, integrity, 
 and mild and peaceable behaviour. Now Dentenza 
 had really no grievance against Muza Ben Zarail, but 
 being wearied by a long period of peace, he determined 
 to molest and harass him for what he thought religion's 
 sake. He therefore called together his chiefs and 
 men-at-arms, and informed them of his intention of 
 besieging the Castle of Chio. They, of course, were 
 nothing loath, hating the Moors as a nation no less 
 than their master. One fine morning, therefore, they 
 sallied forth, trumpets blowing, pennons waving, 
 helmets and armour glistening in the sun, and after 
 three days of hard marching sat down to besiege the 
 fortress, Count Dentenza having previously picked a 
 quarrel with Ben Zarail upon some trivial pretext. 
 
 The castle was considered almost impregnable, and 
 the siege lasted three months. The inhabitants were 
 reduced to eating dogs, cats, and horses. Famine 
 stared them in the face, but their opponents fared well 
 every day, while the supplies for the castle were cut 
 off. Each day new breaches were made in the castle 
 walls, and the brave Moors were threatened with death 
 in two ways ; either by the walls falling down from 
 the great fissures in them, or by the assaults of the 
 enemy outside. The inhabitants were on the point of 
 surrendering, when suddenly the whole horizon seemed 
 dark with marching troops. From east to west, from 
 north to south, these troops descended like a never- 
 ceasing torrent, and twenty thousand Moors stood in 
 the field to relieve their friends, the unfortunate inmates 
 of the castle. The Christian army was now attacked 
 on both sides, and the troops were mown down like
 
 232 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 hay between the lances of the Moors behind and the 
 arrows of the Moors in front. The night after this, 
 Dentenza had a dream, in which he saw the Saviour 
 come to him and tell him not to be afraid, but with 
 five of his knights to give battle to the whole Moorish 
 army on the morrow. In the morning, therefore, 
 Dentenza, full of faith, with five of his companions, 
 went out alone to fight their enemies. 
 
 The priest, whom he had brought with him from 
 Daroca, had for some time doubted the doctrine of 
 transubstantiation, but agreed to give Dentenza and 
 his five knights the sacrament before they started on 
 their dangerous errand, and consecrated six wafers. 
 But, before the party could communicate, the infidels 
 made the attack. The Christian knights fought like 
 heroes, and, after a long day's struggle, defeated the 
 twenty thousand Moors. When the battle began, the 
 priest, who did not care to expose his sacred person to 
 the mischances of a battle-field, collected his six wafers, 
 wrapped them up in the church linen or " corporales," 
 and threw them into some bushes, before hiding him- 
 self in the woods not far off. When the fate of the day 
 was decided he reappeared from his concealment, and 
 went in search of his wafers, which he had consecrated 
 with so much care. But, instead of six wafers, he found 
 six bits of bleeding flesh. Thus, to the doubting priest 
 the doctrine of transubstantiation was amply proved. 
 Much appalled, he hurried back to the camp and told 
 his story. Dentenza, remembering his dream, felt sure 
 that the Lord had been present with them and had 
 fought for them ; he told his dream to the troops, and 
 all the soldiers fell on their knees, and gave thanks for 
 the great miracle which had been performed almost in 
 their very midst. The six knights, naturally enough, 
 wished to divide such a treasure amongst them. But
 
 THE CORPORALES OF DAROCA. 233 
 
 they did not feel that they could divide the body of 
 Nuestro Senor without committing a sacrilege. So they 
 decided that they would send the wafers, done up in 
 their respective napkins, on the back of the priest's 
 mule; and they agreed that wherever the mule stopped, 
 there they would be contented to leave the "corporales." 
 The mule started off alone, returned to Daroca over 
 mountains without any road, and knelt down before the 
 door of the parochial church of San Pedro. Offerings 
 poured in. Many souls were saved, and the church 
 much enriched. 
 
 The " Santo Mistero," as it is called, is preserved 
 in the Collegiata at Daroca, and, when carried 
 through the streets to a death-bed, is spoken of 
 as " Su Majestad" (His Majesty). Whenever the bell 
 is heard announcing its coming, everybody kneels, 
 wherever they are, either at a dinner-party or in a 
 muddy street, until it has passed. In Italy, where a 
 similar legend prevails, the people content themselves 
 with placing a lighted candle in the window ; but there 
 is no country so particular as to the outward obser- 
 vance as Catholic Spain. 
 
 At the Escurial the " Forma " is exhibited for adora- 
 tion on the 2Qth of September and the 28th of October. 
 When the palace was plundered by the French, they 
 were so busy emptying the casks of wine in the cellar, 
 that they did not discover the holy wafer which the 
 monks had hidden there, and which was restored to its 
 original place with great pomp on the 28th of October, 
 1814.
 
 XXV. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER. 
 
 THERE is a certain quarter in Toledo, known as the 
 Puerta del Cambron. The bull-fighters live there, and 
 the washerwomen, who have been working all day at 
 the brink of the Tagus, come here to their homes in 
 the evening, swinging along in groups, and carrying 
 their well-filled baskets of wrung-out clothes poised 
 gracefully upon their heads. There also dwell the 
 women who work for the tailors of Toledo, and who 
 can be seen going to their work early in the morning, 
 with their handkerchiefs tied under their chins. All 
 the poor congregate there in the evenings, and stand at 
 their own doors to enjoy a quiet chat with their neigh- 
 bours across the street. 
 
 In one of the poorest and most tumble-down of the 
 houses of the Cambron quarter a couple of women were 
 talking across the narrow street to each other. 
 
 Theore Inez was hanging up a few ragged fragments 
 of clothes, which had contrived to hold together in the 
 beating and scrubbing of the morning, along with other 
 clothes which she had to wash for some of the noble 
 families of Toledo. In the middle of her work she 
 espied her opposite neighbour, Cristina, sitting in the 

 
 THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER. 235 
 
 window mending a dilapidated and much-patched pair 
 of trousers. 
 
 " And how goes it with the poor Celestina ?" she 
 inquired, pitching her voice for the required distance. 
 " Eh ! but she looked thin and ill when I saw her the 
 other day, with her pale white face and the large, wild, 
 dark eyes ! Eh ! mi Madre ! such big eyes ! The 
 saints help us but she cannot live much longer if she 
 does not sleep ! Has she slept yet ?" 
 
 Cristina, who had been waiting till her voluble 
 neighbour gave her the chance to put in a word, now 
 seized her opportunity. 
 
 " No," she cried, " not an eye has she closed ! She 
 is always the same, always tossing her head about from 
 side to side of the pillow, and talking wildly about the 
 things she sees in the room." 
 
 " Eh ! Santa fe !" interrupted Inez, " I should think 
 she might talk wildly and see things, with not a wink 
 of sleep for so many days ! She'll talk wilder yet, mark 
 my words, if she gets no relief soon." 
 
 Cristina merely shook her head ominously. She 
 had nothing to say against the prophecy of her neigh- 
 bour. She had known the fact for some weeks, that 
 her daughter Celestina was very ill indeed, and in a 
 dangerous condition, and did not need any remarks 
 from her friend Inez to inform her of what had been 
 her daily fear. 
 
 The room in which she sat looked poor and shabby 
 enough, with its scanty furniture. On a straw bed in 
 one corner of the room lay a young girl in all the de- 
 lirium of fever, tossing her arms wildly about, and 
 sometimes muttering, sometimes shouting, scraps of 
 songs, and stringing together the most incoherent sen- 
 tences as fast as she could rattle them off. A few 
 miserable, hungry hens straggled about the room, and
 
 236 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 pecked and scratched in a hopeless manner, as if no 
 such chance as a scrap of food could fall to their lot. 
 
 Cristina was a widow with two children, a son and 
 the daughter Celestina, who lay ill in the corner of 
 the room. The son was a charcoal-burner, and was 
 away for weeks at a time in the mountains, coming 
 home occasionally, when he could get a holiday, to 
 visit his native place, Toledo, and see his mother and 
 sister, of whom he was the chief support. Cristina 
 usually worked for a tailor; but since her daughter 
 had fallen ill, she had been allowed to work at home. 
 When her neighbour Inez had espied her from her 
 opposite window, she was mending her son's trousers, 
 which he had brought back on his last visit. She had 
 a few pieces of coarse clean underlinen near her as she 
 worked. She was finishing the last piece of mending, 
 and had a chance of sending these clothes to him by a 
 fellow-workman who was returning to the mountains. 
 Every now and then she gave a look over at the bed in 
 the corner, where Celestina lay tossing and moaning, 
 crying out wildly at one moment, and sobbing the 
 next. 
 
 The girl looked as though she had gipsy blood in 
 her. Her skin was dark but clear, and her face was 
 pale and thin. Her large jet-black eyes were opened 
 to their widest extent. From the thinness of her 
 cheeks they looked twice as large as usual, and 
 heightened the weird expression of her face. Her long 
 black hair hung in masses over her shoulders, and her 
 lips were parched and dry. 
 
 The doctor who had attended her was by no means 
 a skilful man. He was old-fashioned in his ideas, and 
 thought that bleeding was the only cure for fever. But 
 Celestina, after copious cuppings, still had a pulse that 
 frightened him. She was delirious and sleepless, an
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER. 237 
 
 he had told the mother that it was only a question of 
 time, and that nothing short of a miracle could save 
 her. 
 
 "The Blessed Virgin and the saints are all-powerful," 
 poor Cristina had answered to this cruel announce- 
 ment. " Perhaps if I pay for masses and pray hard, 
 they will have mercy upon a lonely old woman like me, 
 and save my daughter." 
 
 To this speech the doctor had vouchsafed no answer. 
 He was sceptical himself as to miracles, but it was 
 none of his business if other people chose to believe 
 in such things. So he shrugged his shoulders, put 
 a piece of silver into the old woman's horny palm, 
 and departed. Since then he had never darkened 
 Cristina's doors again, evidently considering the case 
 as hopeless. 
 
 But Cristina kept up a good heart, and continued 
 to pray and have masses said for Celestina, having 
 faith that a miracle would be performed for so good a 
 girl as her daughter. 
 
 Her faith had held out for many weeks, but for a 
 day or two past she had doubted very much whether 
 the saints and the dear Mother Mary had listened to 
 her prayers. Inez, she knew, was frank and outspoken 
 in her speech ; but, all the same, her heart sank within 
 her as she listened to her prophecy that Celestina 
 would talk wilder yet if she got no relief soon. 
 
 If the help did not come from Heaven there would 
 be no relief. The doctor had left them ; she knew 
 nothing to do excepting prayers and masses, and 
 Celestina seemed as far away from sleep as ever. 
 
 Several days after this conversation with Inez, the 
 Feast of St. Joseph was celebrated in Toledo. As 
 everyone knows, this festival takes place on the igth 
 of March. By that time the weather becomes very
 
 238 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 warm and balmy in Toledo, and most of the spring 
 flowers are out, and to be purchased at every street 
 corner. 
 
 Cristina went to early mass at the cathedral, and, 
 as usual, paid for a mass for Celestina's recovery. 
 The girl was as delirious and restless as ever. Her 
 eyes were, if anything, larger and more wide awake, 
 and her lips more parched and pale. 
 
 All through the day the streets of Toledo were 
 thronged with holiday-makers. The Zocodover, in the 
 city, the Paseo de las Rosas, outside the walls, and the 
 Paseo de Madrid, which is near the Puerta de Visagra, 
 were crowded to overflowing. It was the Feast of 
 St. Joseph, and the people meant to make the most 
 of their holiday. Gay laughter could be heard every- 
 where. Fireworks were seen shooting up into the sky, 
 and plays were being acted in the open air on the three 
 paseos. The tinkle of guitars and the playing of flutes 
 and violins drew people to the smallest but prettiest of 
 the three paseos, the Zocodover, where dancing was 
 going on. 
 
 All the hum and distant merry-making of the usually 
 dull and sleepy old city was wafted up with the breezes 
 to the lonely little window where poor Cristina stood 
 ironing a pile of coarse but white linen. 
 
 Her neighbours had all gone to the festival. Not 
 even her talkative friend Inez had remained behind. 
 Cristina's heart was very heavy as she ironed near 
 the window to catch the first glimpse of the return- 
 ing holiday-makers. She knew that they would tell 
 her all that they themselves had done and seen and 
 heard, even to the last fragment of gossip that might be 
 going the rounds of Toledo. But she knew, too, by 
 the shadows on the houses opposite that some hours 
 must pass before she could hope to see her friends.
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER. 239 
 
 Meanwhile she prayed fervently to St. Joseph, and 
 begged of him to spare Celestina any more suffering if 
 the saints and he and the Blessed Virgin could do 
 nothing to save her. 
 
 " The girl has been like that," she said aloud in her 
 fervour, pointing to the corner of the room where 
 Celestina lay tossing and turning in her fever " the 
 girl has been like that for ever so long, and she would 
 be infinitely happier and blessed with the saints. O 
 dear St. Joseph, either save her or take her, as seems 
 best to thee ; but do not leave her lingering on any 
 longer." 
 
 Then she began to hum and sing to herself some of 
 the hymns dedicated to St. Joseph to help to while 
 away the time until her friends could return, Celes- 
 tina's quick ears caught the familiar sounds ; and 
 although the mother had sung very softly, she seemed 
 to be disturbed by them, and began in her madness to 
 shout at the top of her voice the words and odds and 
 ends of popular songs that she had heard sung at the 
 theatres. Cristina ceased her singing at once, but Celes- 
 tina was dead to all things, and continued her shouting, 
 with intervals of laughing, until the neighbours returned 
 from their merry-making. 
 
 It was very late before Inez came back to her own 
 house. But Cristina was bound to sit up and get all 
 the news from her chatterbox of a neighbour. The 
 other friends had been very kind, and told her all that 
 they had seen and heard as far as they knew. 
 
 But the next best thing to going one's self to see the 
 fun and merriment of a holiday like the Feast of St. 
 Joseph is to have a friend; who also is a near neigh- 
 bour, from whom nothing escapes. 
 
 Inez was a kind-hearted soul, and she kept her ears 
 wide open, or had, as the saying is, the " film off her
 
 240 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 eyes." There was nothing that went on around her 
 that was unnoticed. She seemed to see out of the 
 back of her head, and caught the very whispers of the 
 wind. When she had a holiday which was but 
 seldom, poor woman ! for she worked hard, and had a 
 large family she made the most of it, and came back 
 full of the gossip and jokes she had heard. Her bright, 
 restless black eyes wandered far afield, and saw just 
 the very things which her neighbours would have 
 hidden from her. For Inez was a sharp and a long- 
 tongued woman ; and, though there was really very 
 little harm in her, she often said things, quite at random, 
 which rankled in her neighbours' minds, and caused 
 them to call her a " meddlesome, prying, evil-tongued 
 vixen." 
 
 Cristina was the best friend she had. For although 
 sometimes her tongue was sharp, even to her, there 
 was nothing in Cristina's honest, hard-working life 
 which her neighbours were not welcome to know and 
 to see. 
 
 It was therefore with the expectation of a great treat 
 that Cristina awaited the return of Inez. 
 
 At last she appeared, laden with trumpets, and all 
 sorts of cheap penny toys for the children, with sweets 
 for herself and her husband. As she stopped for a 
 moment under the window of the house where Cristina 
 lived, all out of breath with climbing the hill so rapidly, 
 she said : 
 
 ' " Eh, neighbour, I cannot mount thy stairs to-night, 
 but will tell thee all I can from my window." 
 
 So she shouted across the street the fragments of 
 gossip which she had gleaned during the " fiesta." 
 Such bits of stray news as that Juan the shoemaker's 
 daughter, Teresita, had gone into service at Seville ; 
 or that Serafina, the gipsy, had received fifty francs
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER. 241 
 
 for dancing the national dances before a company of 
 distinguished English, were among the many scraps 
 of information with which she regaled the ears of her 
 friend Cristina, who listened eagerly, and drank in all 
 that her neighbour was willing to tell. 
 
 Poor creature ! she had been shut up all day in that 
 hot room, with only her own sad thoughts and her 
 sick daughter to keep her company. And to her these 
 odds and ends of gossip were as enthralling as a ball 
 to a young girl. She liked to hear how her neighbours 
 were faring ; of the good luck that came to them, their 
 sons or their daughters, and it must be confessed also 
 of any scandal or misfortune that came to their 
 share. 
 
 It was very late when Inez had satisfied Cristina's 
 longing for news, and it was certainly two in the morn- 
 ing before Cristina closed her window and locked her 
 door. 
 
 She laid wet linen on Celestina's hot forehead, and 
 bathed her hands to cool them before she went to bed 
 herself. It was the only thing she could afford to do, 
 poor soul ; but she did it thoroughly and constantly, 
 hoping that Celestina's lingering so long in life was 
 only an answer to her many prayers, and meant that 
 the good St. Joseph would surely work some cure for 
 the malady. The time had long gone by when she 
 could afford to pay the doctor for medicines ; and 
 if Celestina lived, it would either be because her 
 strength was greater than they had supposed, or 'be- 
 cause some miracle was to be performed in her favour. 
 If they could only make her sleep the doctor had said 
 there would be a change at once, either for life or death. 
 But it was many days since Celestina had closed an 
 eye. And they had tried everything that her small 
 purse could afford. 
 
 16
 
 2 4 ? SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 With these sad thoughts in her mind, and feeling 
 the weight of her coming bereavement very heavily on 
 this particular night, poor Cristina laid herself down 
 upon her bed of straw in the corner opposite to that 
 which Celestina occupied. 
 
 She was a heavy sleeper, and was especially tired on 
 this evening, owing to her long and anxious talk with her 
 neighbour Inez. How long she slept, she could never 
 tell ; but she was awakened by a very bright light in the 
 room. At first, with her eyes full of sleep, she thought 
 that the house must have taken fire ; but gradually, as 
 she became conscious of things around her, she saw an 
 old man with a branch of oleander in his hand bending 
 by the side of Celestina, and waving the flowers over 
 her. He had a loose brown gown and cloak wrapped 
 round him, and carried a staff in his right hand, while 
 a golden glory encircled his head. 
 
 Cristina was so frightened that she fell on the floor, 
 and, covering her eyes with her hands, prayed aloud to 
 St. Joseph. 
 
 In a minute or two she heard a soft and gentle voice 
 say : " My daughter, thy prayers are heard, and I have 
 come to cure thy child. Behold, she sleeps !" And 
 with this the blessed saint departed. The light faded 
 in the room. But, before it quite went out, Cristina 
 looked at Celestina, and to her amazement the girl's 
 eyes were closed, and she seemed in a deep sleep. There 
 was no more rest for her that night. She listened in- 
 tently to her daughter's regular breathing, and the 
 startling hush of the room, after the incessant chatter 
 of so many days, was almost more than she could bear. 
 She burst into a flood of tears, and through the watches 
 of the night could not help believing that in the morn- 
 ing she should find Celestina dead. 
 
 But when the morning broke, bright and sunny, the
 
 THE LEGEND OF THE OLEANDER. 243 
 
 girl still slept, and Cristina's heart grew lighter as 
 the hours wore on. The doctor had said that with sleep 
 or a miracle she would recover, and behold she both 
 slept and the dear St. Joseph had brought her that 
 lovely branch of pink flowers which still lay on her 
 breast, and which the mother dared not touch for fear 
 of disturbing the sleeper. 
 
 She stoo'd and looked at the flowers for a long time, 
 and listened to the calm, even breathing which sounded 
 like music to her motherly ear. 
 
 For three days Celestina slept calmly and without a 
 break. Cristina had told her wonderful adventure to 
 Inez, who hurried across the street to verify the ex- 
 traordinary statements of her neighbour. Celestina 
 sleeping after all these days of feverish delirium and 
 wakefulness, and all for a branch of oleander which 
 St. Joseph had brought and had placed upon her bed ! 
 Cristina must have lost her wits from over-anxiety and 
 watching ! 
 
 But to her amazement she found Celestina really 
 sleeping. There was no pretence about it ; and on her 
 breast lay a large bunch of oleander, the lovely pink 
 blossoms and glossy thick leaves looking fresh and 
 sweet against the girl's white skin. The question was 
 (as Inez said afterwards, when relating the whole 
 thing to her neighbours) the question was, where did 
 the branch come from, if not from St. Joseph himself ? 
 For between the time when she had parted from 
 Cristina at her window, and the time when they had 
 met in the morning, no one was astir. No one could 
 say that she, Inez, was not as early a riser as could 
 be found in Toledo, and she had seen Cristina the first 
 thing after opening her window in the morning. 
 
 The people of Toledo were much interested in and 
 impressed by the miracle which had been performed 
 
 16 2
 
 244 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 upon Celestina, and congratulated Cristina wherever 
 and whenever they met her. 
 
 When Celestina awoke, the fever had abated, her 
 eyes looked calm and reasonable, and the whole expres- 
 sion of her face had become sweet and gentle. 
 
 From that time she began to mend, and in a few 
 weeks had entirely recovered. She was looked upon 
 with great awe and reverence by her fellows, and the 
 oleander ("adelfa") is called familiarly by the peasants, 
 to this day, the Flower of St. Joseph. 

 
 XXVI. 
 
 A MOORISH PROMISE* 
 
 WHEN the warfare between the Christians and the 
 Moors was at its height, an incident occurred on the 
 frontier of Granada which has given rise to legends, 
 pastorals, and plays. 
 
 Rodrigo de Narvaez was Alcaide of Alora, a fortress 
 on the Spanish frontier. During the siege of Granada 
 there were often months of idleness, when only small 
 skirmishes took place on either side. These periods of 
 enforced inactivity must have been very wearisome to 
 most of the Spanish army. At any rate they were so to 
 Narvaez, who, tired of idleness, sallied forth one night 
 
 * In the " Romancero General," vol. ii., p. 137, there is a romance 
 on " Don Manuel Ponce de Leon," 1154, almost exactly like this 
 legend, by Pedro de Padilla, and the note attached remarks : " It 
 is almost a repetition of the generous deed of Narvaez with the 
 Moor Abindarraez." The story can be found also in Pulgar's 
 " Clares Varones ;" in Argote de Molina's " Noblezas," 1588, fol. 
 296 ; in Conde's " Historia de la Dominacion de los Arabes en 
 Espana," vol. Hi., p. 262 ; in Villega's " Inventario," 1565, fol. 94 ; 
 in Lope de Vega's " Remedio de la Desdicha," Comedias, vol. xiii., 
 1620; in the "Quixote,"' Part I., chap. v. Timoneda wrote a 
 " Historia del enamorado Moro Abindarraez" (Fuster Bibl., vol: i., 
 p. 162) ; and the story is mentioned in Wolf's reprint of the 
 "Rosa Espanola," 1846, p. 107. It was also the subject of a long 
 poem by Francesco Balbi de Correggio in 1 593. While doubtless 
 Montemayor in his " Diana," Book IV., borrowed from Villegas ; 
 and Ferrant Mejia (" Nobiliario," Seville, 1492) has a passage 
 in vol. ii., chap." xv., in which he counts Narvaez among his 
 ancestors. This legend is a most popular one among the Spanish 
 people. See Ticknor, Spanish edition, vol. iii., p, 333, foot-note.
 
 246 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 in search of adventures with only a few soldiers. They 
 did not search far, for very soon they came upon a 
 Moor, handsomely mounted and well armed. He was 
 singing out cheerfully into the silent night, and this 
 was the song that he sang : 
 
 " Nascido en Granada ; 
 Criado en Cartama ; 
 Enamorado en Coin, 
 Frontera de Alora." 
 
 " Born in Granada ; 
 Educated in Cartama ; 
 In love in Coin, 
 On the frontiers of Alora." 
 
 A personal combat ensued, and the brave Moor was 
 taken prisoner. His name was Abindarraez, and he 
 was an illustrious Moor, belonging to the exiled and 
 persecuted family of the Abencerrajes. He had fought 
 like a tiger, and had behaved so courageously alone 
 against several enemies that De Narvaez was rather 
 surprised at his utter and hopeless dejection and 
 singular sadness after his capture. 
 
 " Why are you so depressed and melancholy, O 
 noble Moor ?" he asked at last. " These events are 
 but the natural accidents of war ; and, brave as you are 
 reputed to be, you should not now need patience and 
 courage to endure." 
 
 But Abindarraez only shook his head and said never 
 a word. By dint, however, of entreaties and prayers 
 the Alcaide wormed the secret from his captive. 
 
 " Know, then, O most noble Alcaide, that this very 
 night I had promised to carry off clandestinely the love 
 of my soul, who is the daughter of the Alcaide of Coin, 
 on the Mussulman frontier. To disappoint her, the 
 pearl of my heart, and be faithless to my word nearly 
 
 breaks my heart " and tears filled the dark eyes of 
 
 the captive Moor.
 
 A MOORISH PROMISE. 247 
 
 \ '--' 
 
 "But why not ask her father for her manfully and 
 
 openly?" inquired the Alcaide. 
 
 " Because her father guards her with a jealous eye, 
 and does not favour our love. For when he suspected 
 that she was the shining-star of my existence, he 
 carried her off to a place far away from me. Then I 
 was like a traveller over a rough and precipitous 
 country, O Alcaide, who sees suddenly a total eclipse of 
 the sun and is left in utter darkness. O my Zara,* 
 when shall I behold again thy lovely face, thy eyes like 
 stars, thy lips red like pomegranates, and thy hair 
 perfumed and waving ? When shall I hear thy voice 
 as sweet as the note of the nightingale, singing to thy 
 lute? That thou shouldst think me false tempts me to 
 end my life, which is but sad and lonely without thee." 
 
 For a few minutes the Alcaide pondered deeply. At 
 length he broke silence with these words : 
 
 " Noble Moor, if I believed that you would keep your 
 promised word to a Christian as you do to your Zara, 
 who is as the flower of your days, I would permit you 
 to go and keep your promise to her." 
 
 The Moor drew himself up proudly, and his eyes 
 glistened for the first time since he became a captive. 
 
 "As surely as I am here your captive now, Alcaide," 
 he said, " so surely will I return to be your captive, if 
 you will permit me to go and keep my appointment 
 with Zara. I have never failed in my word till now 
 and it will be to Zara, whom I love better than my life. 
 Name your terms." 
 
 "That you will return in three days to be my cap- 
 tive," answered the Alcaide. 
 
 " I will," returned the Abencerraje, with the solem- 
 nity of an oath ; and on the instant he was freed. 
 
 iyK/i!di>i 
 
 Zara sat watching behind her latticed window for 
 Called irksome of the romances "Jarifa? .
 
 248 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 her Moorish lover. She had dismissed her maidens, 
 and sat with her chin upon her beautiful white hands, 
 looking out in the direction from which Abindarraez 
 would appear. But she could see no one. The stars 
 came out one by one, and the moon began to rise, cast- 
 ing her silver light over the fleecy clouds about her. 
 But still nowhere could she see her lover. Then in 
 despair she sat down and began to weep. " He has 
 forgotten me and his promise. Among the Christian 
 maidens, he thinks no more of Zara. Mi bien ! what 
 shall I do without thee ? I, Zara, the forsaken !" 
 
 While she was lamenting thus, she heard a voice 
 from without, singing, 
 
 " Enamorado en Coin, 
 Frontera de Alora." 
 
 With a spring she was at the window, and was soon in 
 her lover's arms. 
 
 " Oh, mi alma, art thou really come ?" she said. 
 
 " Zara, my beloved, why dost thou weep ? The 
 crystal tears are still coursing down thy cheeks. Didst 
 thou doubt that I should come ? Nothing but chains 
 and bonds could have kept me from thee." And with 
 loving words and sweet caresses he took her from her 
 father's house. 
 
 Two days passed, and the time drew near for the 
 Moor to return to Alora. He hardly knew how to 
 break the news to Zara, who was now as happy as the 
 day was long. He looked so sad and so unhappy as 
 the hours passed, and the truth was still untold, that 
 Zara at last said : 
 
 " What troubles my lord ? He has only to tell Zara, 
 who will do her utmost to drive the sickness from 
 his soul." 
 
 "Zara, thou knowest that I would do anything to
 
 A MOORISH PROMISE. 249 
 
 preserve my honour. To redeem my word to thee and 
 keep my tryst with thee, I made a promise which is 
 hard to keep ; but which I must fulfil, hard though it 
 be. Know then, O gentle Zara, that before coming for 
 thee, I fought with the Christians and was made a 
 prisoner. I was so miserable at the thought of seem- 
 ing to be false to thee, that I could neither eat nor 
 sleep, but went about like one who fainteth for water. 
 The Alcaide, who behaved like a brother, and treated 
 me with the greatest kindness, sought to know the 
 cause of my sorrow and drooping. At first I kept 
 counsel with myself, and let no one into the closet of 
 my thoughts ; but he asked me so frequently to tell 
 him the reason of my sadness, that at last I told him 
 that I should have to break my tryst with thee because 
 of my captivity; and, being a man of honour and 
 chivalrous withal, he gave me my liberty on condition" 
 here Abindarraez hesitated ; and then added, with a 
 sigh, " on condition that I would return, after three 
 days, to be his captive again." 
 
 Fpr a few minutes there was silence between them ; 
 and then Zara said slowly : 
 
 " There is a remedy for all but death. Send a very 
 large ransom larger than the Alcaide could demand 
 for thee, and he could not desire then to separate us." 
 
 The Moor's face changed almost at every word that 
 Zara said, and when she ended her speech he was 
 deadly pale. 
 
 " Can it be possible that you, my Zara, should dare 
 to propose dishonour and treachery to me ? I cer- 
 tainly shall return and keep my word to the Alcaide, 
 whose trust in me allowed him to set me free to marry 
 you. He said, ' If I believed that you would keep your 
 promise to a Christian as you do to your Zara, I would 
 permit you to go to her.' And not only shall I go to
 
 250 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Alora, but you shall come also, my Zara;" here the 
 Moor drew himself up proudly, and Zara, looking with 
 a timid air into her lord's face, saw something in it 
 which silenced her, and she obeyed. 
 The next day found them at Alora. 
 
 The Alcaide, meanwhile, had been very uneasy. He 
 was in an awkward position. Should the Moor really 
 be a man of his word, all would be right ; but if he 
 took the opportunity of escaping and never returning, 
 his own head would pay the forfeit. As the third 
 day drew to a close, his anxiety became greater and 
 greater. At last he made up his mind that the Moor 
 was faithless. " How could I have ventured to trust 
 a Moorish dog?" he said to himself. "And yet he 
 seemed so true. Woe is me!" As he spoke the curtain 
 was lifted, and the Moor appeared, leading in Zara 
 closely veiled. 
 
 " Behold me," he said, " and with me my other 
 self, your captive Zara." 
 
 The Alcaide was much relieved, and regretted that 
 he had mistrusted the Abencarraje for a minute. He 
 treated his captives with great consideration and 
 tenderness ; and finding, after a few months, that the 
 king had great influence with the father of Zara, he 
 exerted himself to the utmost to get the Moor and his 
 father-in-law reconciled. It was a difficult matter, but 
 after a time it was arranged, and Abindarraez and his 
 Zara departed in peace. 

 
 XXVII. 
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM* 
 
 THE town of San Domingo de la Calzada, between 
 Burgos and Logrono, has the honour with Calahorra 
 of belonging to a bishopric. The tutelar saint San 
 Domingo (not he of inquisitorial memory) was an 
 Italian who was sent to Spain in 1050, as an exorcist, 
 at the entreaties and prayers of the peasants, who 
 were nearly starved by locusts. He performed the 
 miracle of sending the insect tribe into the country of 
 the Moors, and liked his new abode so much that he 
 determined to remain there and not return to his own 
 country. He afterwards paved the way to Compo- 
 stella for pilgrims to the shrine of Sant' Jago de 
 Compostella. 
 
 Not far from Burgos, there lived a good farmer and 
 his wife, named Robres, who had three or four children. 
 One of them, much to the delight of the parents, 
 determined to be a monk, and as a first step performed 
 a journey to Compostella. 
 
 He was a very good-looking youth, and caused 
 many heartburnings among the maidens of the villages 
 through which he passed, but he paid no attention to 
 them. Indeed, his own heart was so pure and single, 
 
 * This legend is mentioned in three different places in Ford's 
 Handbook, and passes as three separate stories. I^give it as I 
 heard it, as one legend.
 
 252 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 that he did not even remark the admiration which his 
 
 beauty caused. He walked night and day, excepting 
 
 three hours, which he reserved for repose, during the 
 
 heat of the day; and ate sparingly wherever he stopped, 
 
 praying at every shrine and church that he came to. 
 
 Towards the end of the fourth day, he came to a dark 
 
 wood. Felipe, for that was his name, was half inclined 
 
 to encamp and spend the night at the entrance of the 
 
 wood, so dark and cheerless did it appear. But he 
 
 soon became ashamed of himself for his fear, and after 
 
 saying one or two prayers and crossing himself at least 
 
 once a minute, he ventured into the forest. Every now 
 
 and then he heard the cry of wolves, and sometimes a 
 
 strange bluish light illuminated the wood for many 
 
 yards ahead ; but when he crossed himself and repeated 
 
 passages from his breviary these lights disappeared 
 
 entirely, and the cries grew fainter and fainter as he 
 
 went on. He kept on saying his prayers, but the road 
 
 grew narrower, and he found himself in a tiny path 
 
 near a waterfall of some kind, for he could hear the 
 
 rush of water not very far distant. As his danger 
 
 increased, and he wandered about trying to find his 
 
 way, he utterly forgot to say his prayers ; the blue 
 
 lights appeared in the distance, he could hear the 
 
 barking of the wolves, and to add to his bewilderment 
 
 he heard voices in altercation ahead of him. He stole 
 
 nearer as noiselessly as he could to the spot where he 
 
 heard the voices. To his horror he saw two pale and 
 
 shadowy mendicant friars disputing with each other. 
 
 They had large wallets upon their shoulders, filled with 
 
 the fragments which they had collected in their day's 
 
 march. 
 
 " But I have gained more than you, therefore I ought 
 to eat more," said the one friar to the other. 
 
 "That is not true," retorted the other. "I have 

 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM. 253 
 
 toiled harder than you, and had poorer people to deal 
 with than you ; therefore to me should fall the best 
 things, for I have expended more flesh and blood and 
 strength than you, with all your whining ways." 
 
 From words they came to blows, and at last they 
 laid down their wallets, and taking off their cloaks, and 
 filling their cowls with stones, they belaboured each 
 other until they fell down from weariness and wounds, 
 and died. The pilgrim watched the whole proceeding 
 with trembling limbs and quaking heart. 
 
 " To think that they, for whom Christ died, should 
 fight for such pitiful causes !" he said. 
 
 He waited until all was quiet, and then he dug a 
 grave for each of the friars. It took him a very long 
 while, but nothing came amiss to him for religion's 
 sake. But when he turned round to take up the bodies 
 and bury them, lo and behold ! they had clean dis- 
 appeared. He searched everywhere about, but could 
 find nothing. He then filled in the graves, and, tired 
 out, climbed a tree to sleep. He had not been long 
 asleep before he was waked up by the barking of 
 wolves. Almost a minute after, a pack of wolves 
 passed the tree where he was, led by an enormous grey 
 she-wolf. Her tail was up like a flag, her eyes glowed 
 like fire, and swiftly she ran at the head of her followers. 
 Suddenly she wheeled round, and stopping under the 
 tree, where the young pilgrim sat in terror, she 
 snapped at the bark of the tree, while the whole pack 
 sat looking up at him, snapping and snarling without 
 ceasing. At last, after an hour's ineffectual sniffing 
 and snarling, the she-wolf led them on again, barking 
 and tearing through the wood like demons. He had 
 just fallen asleep again, when he heard footsteps, and 
 peeping cautiously down he saw five or six men who 
 were carrying a large iron box. After some discussion
 
 254 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 they laid it down underneath the tree where he was. 
 Then a dispute arose among them as to the exact spot 
 for burying it, until they could conveniently carry it 
 away again. 
 
 " I did more than you others to get it," said one of 
 the robbers, " and therefore I should have a larger 
 share, of course." 
 
 There was a pause, during which the pilgrim said 
 from the branches of the tree, in as sepulchral a tone 
 as he could assume : " It is stolen property, and is not 
 yours at all." 
 
 At this the robbers, terrified at the voice, all ran away 
 as fast as they could, and for the rest of the night the 
 pilgrim was left in peace and quiet. 
 
 The next morning, at the first streak of dawn, he 
 descended from his tree and opened the box. He 
 found it full of silver jugs and other valuable things ; 
 and having buried it under a different tree three or four 
 yards off, which he marked so that he should know it 
 again, he proceeded on his journey to Compostella. 
 
 On the way he stopped at a roadside inn. The land- 
 lady of the inn was an exceedingly handsome woman, 
 and took a great fancy to the young and good-looking 
 pilgrim. But he being single-hearted, and bent upon 
 his prayers and his journey to Compostella, took no 
 heed of her devotion, and left the inn without the least 
 idea that he had left behind him a woman thwarted in 
 her affection, who was already vowing vengeance 
 against him. She was so wounded and sore at the 
 young pilgrim's utter disdain of her that she had placed 
 in his scrip or wallet some of the spoons belonging to 
 the inn. After he had been gone half an hour or so, 
 she pretended to miss her spoons, and sent the police 
 after him. He was a slow traveller, and therefore was 
 not difficult to find. He protested his innocence, and
 
 THE ADVENTURES OF A PILGRIM. 255 
 
 opened his wallet with the greatest alacrity and there 
 were the spoons ! In vain did he remonstrate and say 
 that he knew nothing about them. There they were, 
 and the police did their duty and took him before the 
 judge. 
 
 " Ah, rogue that you are !" exclaimed the judge, as 
 he stood before him. " Hardened sinner that you are! 
 We have caught you at last, have we ? Only a few 
 days ago you committed a robbery at the house of the 
 Duke of Gomeles, and at last you have brought your- 
 self into trouble." 
 
 The pilgrim saw that there was some misunderstand- 
 ing, and that he was in a difficult position for proving 
 his innocence. But, desperate as the case seemed, he 
 did his best, telling how he had seen the robbers and 
 frightened them away, and ended by saying that " he 
 could take the judge to the very spot, because he had 
 buried the chest himself, and marked the tree." 
 
 " I have no doubt you did," said the judge drily ; 
 " but that shall not save you. You shall show where 
 the silver is hidden, and then you shall be hanged for 
 your sins " 
 
 "But," stammered the pilgrim, "if I show you 
 where the rogues hid the silver, surely you will let me 
 continue my journey to the shrine of Sant' Jago de 
 Compostella " 
 
 "Enough!" shrieked the judge; "take this ob- 
 streperous fellow away!" and before he could say 
 another word, he found himself handcuffed and sur- 
 rounded by soldiers, walking back on the road over 
 which he had come, towards the wood where he had 
 buried the chest. 
 
 The pilgrim was a man of great pride, and when they 
 got to the place where the treasure was hidden, he now 
 utterly refused to show the hiding-place. This made
 
 256 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 the soldiers all the more suspicious of him, and without 
 more ado they hung him on the nearest -tree and left 
 him there. 
 
 After some months had passed, the parents got 
 anxious about their son ; and as they heard nothing of 
 him, they determined to start in search of him. After 
 much toil and many hardships they came to the spot 
 where the pilgrim's body still swung in the air. They 
 were passing under it, all unconscious of its being their 
 son, when the body spoke to them. 
 
 " I am not guilty of the robbery for which they put 
 me up here," it said ; " but although dead to you in 
 the flesh, I am very happy and well elsewhere, through 
 the intercession of the blessed St. Dominic." 
 
 The parents, much delighted with this news, and 
 thinking it a miracle (as indeed it was), hurried off to 
 the magistrate to tell their good tidings. 
 
 The magistrate, who was rather hasty in his temper, 
 was just sitting down to his dinner when the farmer and 
 his wife desired the honour of speaking to him. There 
 was a pair of plump roast fowls before him on the 
 table, and when he heard what the good people had 
 to say, he laughed at them outright, and said sneeringly, 
 " Why, you might as well tell me that those chickens 
 will get up and crow !" which they immediately did. It 
 is needless to say that the judge did not finish his meal. 
 The fowls were taken to the cathedral, where they were 
 placed near the high altar. A pair of live chickens are 
 still preserved there, and are supposed to be directly 
 descended from the miraculous pair. To this day a 
 white feather from these sacred chickens is worn in 
 the hat by the pilgrims to the shrine of Sant' Jago of 
 Compostella.
 
 XXVIII. 
 THE CHRIST OF THE OLIVE. 
 
 NOT far from the quaint old Moorish town of Cor- 
 dova, after you pass through the Puerta del Osario, 
 on the road to the Ermitas, there are several beautiful 
 olive plantations, which were owned at one time, long 
 ago, . by a rich Spanish noble. The vegetation in 
 the valley is splendid; the roads are bordered with 
 hedges of magnificent aloes, which grow very tall and 
 throw out enormous leaves. There are orange trees 
 covered with fruit, and stately palms wave their grace- 
 ful heads, while the olive leaves tremble in the wind, 
 and show their silvery twinkle. These plantations used 
 to produce an enormous quantity of oil, and were a 
 source of great wealth to the proprietor. A sort of 
 bailiff lived upon the place with his wife and one little 
 daughter, who was called Consuelo. She was the very 
 joy and sunshine of their existence, with her pretty 
 brown hair and dark eyes. She was a peasant like all 
 those among whom she lived, but she seemed to be far 
 above them. Not a boy in Cordova, or in the country 
 round about where they lived, would have said one 
 word to hurt her, or have done anything to injure her. 
 With all their hearts they would have defended and 
 shielded her from all evil. Among the peaceful olives 
 her life was chiefly spent, until she grew to woman- 
 hood. Her only outings were to mass on Sundays, at 
 
 17
 
 258 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 the cathedral, and to market sometimes, when her 
 father was going in with his olives, or to buy the neces- 
 saries for the house. 
 
 It is impossible in Spain for a girl so pretty as Con- 
 suelo to be long without lovers. At fifteen years old she 
 had plenty of swains, all more or less pleased at being 
 allowed even to look at her or adore her from afar. 
 Three or four were too bashful to give her more than a 
 passing greeting and significant glances when she sat 
 at the window, with an occasional serenade on the 
 guitar. But there were others who were bolder, and 
 who courted her openly and admiringly. Among them 
 was the overseer a young man of twenty-eight, who 
 worked under the father of Consuelo. His name was 
 Diego Montales ; he had known Consuelo ever since 
 her babyhood, and with his strength had grown his 
 love for her. As a lad he had been assistant on the 
 plantations, and, when he had no special work to do, 
 had played with Consuelo as a baby, guided her totter- 
 ing footsteps ; and as she grew older, and more and 
 more lovely, he became her companion and taught 
 her to read, write, and keep accounts. In fact, he 
 taught her almost all he knew himself. And Con- 
 suelo unwittingly returned his love. But she was not 
 conscious of it, until an unlooked-for event forced the 
 confession from them both. 
 
 Once in every three months the secretary of the 
 master of the property came to visit the plantations, 
 to look over the accounts, take back the moneys re- 
 ceived, and generally explain to the Marques de San- 
 tillana how matters were progressing. In an evil 
 moment he met Consuelo ; he was riding over the 
 olive farms with the bailiff, and saw her, with a 
 basket at her feet, receiving the olives in her apron as 
 they were thrown down to her from the trees, and
 
 THE CHRIST OF THE OLIVE. 259 
 
 placing them in her basket, ready for pressing and 
 putting into brine. Her pretty head was well defined 
 by the gay amber-coloured handkerchief round her head, 
 tied across her forehead and fastened in a knot under 
 her hair with a coquettish bow at the side. This 
 fashion is popular among peasants who work under 
 the hot sun, because it prevents sunstroke. In the 
 tree above stood Diego Montales, cutting, pruning, and 
 gathering the olives, which he threw into the bright- 
 coloured apron spread wide open to receive them. 
 With her eyes upturned towards the man she loved 
 best in the world, what wonder that they sparkled 
 with a soft and radiant light, that her cheeks were 
 flushed, and that her pretty mouth was parted with 
 a beaming smile which showed her small, even, pearly 
 teeth ? Altogether she made a very attractive picture 
 to the eyes of the amorous secretary, so unaccustomed 
 in the city to find anything so fresh, so unstudied and 
 so picturesque-looking as Consuelo Cadenera. Never 
 in his life had he seen anyone at all like her, or 
 anyone who so completely charmed him as she. He 
 was accustomed, of course, in his capacity of secretary 
 to a noble, to meet all sorts and kinds of men ; but 
 as to women his experience was limited, he having 
 only met hitherto those whom his master was used 
 to meeting. They were fond of flirting, and their 
 ideas never went much further than talking of dress 
 and fashion and the last scandal. But here was a 
 creature completely different, so simple and fresh, with 
 such pretty ways and unstudied manners, that the 
 young secretary, Pepe Hernandez, suddenly discovered 
 that his supervision was necessary oftener than ever 
 before, and his visits became more and more frequent, 
 much to the disgust of Diego. With a lover's keen- 
 ness of sight he soon perceived what the frequency 
 
 172
 
 260 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 of the secretary's visits meant, and he guarded Con- 
 suelo most jealously whenever Don Pepe (as he was 
 called) appeared. Apparently the parents of the girl 
 saw nothing. They may have had their own private 
 opinions about Don Pepe and the interest he had so 
 suddenly developed in olive-farming. But, if they had, 
 they said nothing to Consuelo about it, and the girl 
 went on her unconscious way as simple and fresh as 
 ever. 
 
 But although Diego did his best to keep Consuelo 
 out of the way when Don Pepe came to the plantations, 
 the latter thwarted all. his plans by continually throwing 
 himself in Consuelo's path. The two men soon under- 
 stood each other's game, and their mutual regard was 
 certainly not increased by the knowledge. 
 
 At last, Diego could bear it no longer, and spoke out 
 his heart to Consuelo one evening as they were walking 
 home from work among the olive groves. 
 
 It was a lovely evening. The sky was full of soft, 
 fleecy, pink and white clouds, changing from one shade 
 to another under the setting sun. The new moon was 
 visible, and the air was sweet with the scent of 
 flowers. 
 
 " I wish," said Diego, as they went along, " that 
 Don Pepe would come less often. I cannot see that 
 he is of any use here, and I cannot bear to have him 
 poking his nose into your father's affairs as he does," 
 he cried passionately. " One would think, to see him, 
 that we were all thieves plotting to rob the Senor 
 Marques of half the farm produce." 
 
 Consuelo laughed. " Oh ! Diego," she said, " I do 
 not think he means to suspect us ; and I know that 
 my father finds his opinion valuable when he is 
 ignorant of the wishes of the Seftor Marques, for he 
 told me so himself. I think you are unjust to Don 

 
 THE CHRIST OF THE OLIVE. 261 
 
 Pepe. He can have no reasons for being unkind and 
 suspicious." 
 
 " I suppose I am jealous," answered Diego, with a 
 smile. " For to tell the truth, Consuelo, I cannot bear 
 to see him near you. I believe that I am jealous of 
 the wind blowing upon you, or the sun shining upon 
 you. Oh ! querida, if you only knew how I love you, 
 I am sure you could not have the heart to refuse me, 
 or not to love me in return !" 
 
 " But I do love you," cried Consuelo. "And I do- 
 not think that you need be jealous of Don Pepe ; for 
 he neither cares for me nor, I am sure, do I for him." 
 
 So the matter was settled entirely to their own 
 satisfaction, and Diego and Consuelo were as happy 
 and as blithe as any two birds. But they reckoned 
 without their host, if they thought that Don Pepe 
 would leave them happy without a struggle. He had 
 seen at once how matters stood with Diego, and 
 determined to do his best to part the two lovers. 
 
 Consuelo's father was a sturdy old peasant, who had 
 a sharp tongue, but whose heart was kindness itself. 
 Diego had grown up under his eye from boyhood, and 
 he loved him like his own son. But the old man had 
 a great admiration for Don Pepe's opinion, and a 
 blind belief in his capacity and his word. If he found 
 fault with any of the work, woe betide that particular 
 farm-servant who had done it ! Don Pepe began by 
 finding fault with the work done by Diego, and gradu- 
 ally insinuated a little word of distrust of him and his 
 morals into the old man's ear from time to time, 
 pvery visit that he paid he had some fresh scandal and 
 misdeed of Diego to tell, and although old Cadenera 
 was slow to believe anything against his favourite 
 Diego, he at last was roused into dismissing him. It 
 was like a thunderbolt both to Diego and to Consuelo.
 
 262 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Even her mother cried out against the injustice of 
 sending Diego away, with no proof excepting the word 
 of Don Pepe. For old Juana Cadenera was no fool, 
 and saw what her husband did not, that Don Pepe 
 hated Diego because he loved Consuelo and wanted to 
 get rid of his rival. But the old man said it was as 
 much as his place was worth to contradict or disobey 
 Don Pepe, and he hd'd brought instructions from his 
 master for the dismissal of Diego. So, much as he 
 regretted it, Diego must go. 
 
 Poor Consuelo was utterly heart-broken at the 
 departure of her lover, in such an ignominious way, 
 just as he was beginning to put by money for himself. 
 
 Two paths met not very far from the house, and 
 at the corner stood a large wooden crucifix with 
 all the emblems of the Passion arranged upon it a 
 common practice in Roman Catholic countries, in 
 small and out-of-the-way villages. It had got the 
 name of the Christ of the Olive, from a small branch of 
 the tree being always placed underneath it. Consuelo 
 could not sleep for thinking about Diego and Don 
 Pepe's injustice, and, after tossing about half the night, 
 she determined to go out and pray to the Christ of the 
 Olive, so near to her own door. Everyone had gone 
 home long ago, and there was nothing to hurt her in 
 those peaceful groves of olive trees, with their silvery 
 pale leaves, the colour of which tradition said came from 
 their still reflecting a little of the glory which flooded 
 the earth at the transfiguration on Mount Olivet.* 
 
 It was a lovely night. The moonlight was stream- 
 ing down over the pale ghostly trees, and not a star 
 was visible as the moon seemed to sail calmly through 
 the peaceful summer sky. The dark crucifix rose high 
 
 * Spanish popular belief has thus localised the scene of the 
 Transfiguration.
 
 THE CHRIST OF THE OLIVE. 263 
 
 into the air. Consuelo knelt at the foot of the cross 
 and poured forth her heart in sobbing supplication. 
 
 "Oh, Cristo, dulce Jesu," she cried, "if Thou wilt 
 not help me none can. Diego will go, and my heart 
 will break. Oh ! what shall I do ! What shall I do !" 
 She prayed for a long time and then got up from her 
 knees, and was returning to the house, when she heard 
 a voice say, " Be comforted, my daughter, all shall be 
 well." And looking up she saw that the arm of the Christ 
 was stretched out over her, and His hand was blessing 
 her. She uttered a cry of wonder and fright, and fell 
 on her knees ; but when she looked up again, the hand 
 was still blessing her. Thanking the Lord with all her 
 heart, she then went home, and soon fell into a sweet 
 sleep. 
 
 The next morning she told her mother what had 
 happened. The old woman was very much startled, 
 and made Consuelo repeat her story two or three times. 
 
 " It must have been a dream," she said at last ; and 
 Consuelo went to her work with a heavy heart. But 
 her story set her mother pondering, as she went about 
 the house-cleaning and cooking. If, she thought to 
 herself, the Cristo actually said that he would help the 
 little one, there can be no harm in asking Don Pepe to 
 repeat his stories about Diego before him. To my 
 mind they are all lies, told to make his own love-making 
 easier. 
 
 When her husband came home to dinner, therefore, 
 she took him aside and told him about Consuelo's 
 dream, as she called it. " Now, there can be no 
 reason," she said, "why Don Pepe should refuse to 
 repeat his tales of Diego before that divine image, if 
 they are really true. And it would ease the child's 
 mind of the impression made upon her last night." 
 
 Old Cadenera had felt anything but easy in his
 
 264 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 mind about his treatment of Diego. The lad had 
 always, hitherto, been known as honest and hard- 
 working ; and it was difficult to believe that he could 
 so suddenly become as bad and vicious and idle as 
 Don Pepe had made out. But the master had sent 
 orders that Diego was to be dismissed, and therefore it 
 must be done. If it would make Consuelo happier to 
 hear Don Pepe repeat what he had said before the Cristo, 
 it could do no harm, though it would do no good as far as 
 Diego was concerned. It had always been the desire 
 of his heart that Consuelo and Diego should marry, 
 and he had purposely thrown them as much together 
 as he could. But, of course, if the boy was as bad as 
 Don Pepe represented him to be, why, it was better to 
 know it in time, and save Consuelo any further un- 
 happiness. He did not know anything about their con- 
 fession to each other, and, as Consuelo's manner 
 towards Diego was very much the same as usual, he 
 had never suspected that any understanding existed 
 between them. After turning the matter over in his 
 mind for a long time, he determined to ask Don Pepe 
 to repeat his accusations before the Christ. 
 
 When Don Pepe came on his next visit, therefore, 
 Carlos Cadenera told him the whole story of Con- 
 suelo's dream, as they all called it (excepting Consuelo 
 herself), and asked him if he would mind, as a personal 
 favour to him, repeating the charges against Diego 
 before the Christ of the Olive. 
 
 " It is not that I doubt them or your word for one 
 minute, you understand, senor; and it can really make 
 no difference as to Diego's going, but it will relieve 
 the little one's mind very much, for then she cannot 
 imagine any longer, as she does now, that Diego is un- 
 justly treated." 
 
 " But surely you do not believe in any such nonsense
 
 THE CHRIST OF THE OLIVE. 265 
 
 as that, Cadenera, do you ?" asked Don Pepe, turning 
 very red. 
 
 " Eh, sefior, who can tell? Strange things have 
 been brought to light by the Christ before now, and 
 there may be more things in heaven and earth than 
 we think possible. But you will do me this favour, 
 sefior, will you not ?" said Cadenera. 
 
 " Oh, certainly, if you care for any such foolery," 
 replied Don Pepe, laughing. 
 
 The news of Consuelo's dream and the willingness of 
 Don Pepe to repeat his accusations against Diego soon 
 spread through the plantation. Diego was a great 
 favourite with his mates, and they one and all believed 
 him to be the victim of a base calumny, and were much 
 delighted when they heard that Don Pepe was to go 
 through this ordeal. They were all very superstitious, 
 as Spanish peasants are, and believed that he would 
 not be able to stand the ordeal without a miracle taking 
 place. 
 
 It was a motley crowd that gathered around the 
 Christ of the Olive the morning that Diego was to go 
 away. Big burly peasants, both men and women, 
 wild-looking, unkempt creatures, stood about with 
 their knives or pruning-hooks, or with just what they 
 happened to have been working with, in their hands. 
 Don Pepe began his complaints against Diego : Diego 
 was idle ; Diego was immoral ; Diego had done this, 
 Diego had done that. Suddenly he stopped short in 
 the middle of a sentence. A cry came from the 
 frightened peasants. " El Cristo ! el Cristo !" they 
 cried. Everyone looked up. The arm of the Christ 
 was again stretched out, and Don Pepe never spoke 
 again, for he was dumb. 
 
 The miracle was duly reported to the proprietor of 
 the plantations, who answered that he had never
 
 266 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 ordered Diego's dismissal, nor had he ever heard any- 
 thing against him. Don Pepe was disgraced, and not 
 very long afterwards Diego and Consuelowere married, 
 to the great joy of both parents, but especially of 
 old Juana, who said triumphantly, " If I had not 
 urged Carlos to do it, we should never have known the 
 truth." 

 
 XXIX. 
 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 
 
 ON the road from Logrono to Calahorra the traveller 
 has to pass several small villages before reaching 
 Lodosa, which is not far from Calahorra. It lies, at 
 the foot of some high rocky hills. The country around 
 is very fertile and well cultivated, and in the rocks 
 and hills are some curious holes or caverns which are 
 supposed to have been excavated by the Moors. 
 
 Every now and then the river Ebro, which runs 
 close to Lodosa, overflows its banks, and occasions 
 much distress among the peasantry. In the old days 
 when these inundations occurred, the peasants used to 
 have special masses said, and made a pilgrimage to the 
 village of Mendavia, some miles distant from Lodosa, 
 near which lived a very saintly hermit, whom they 
 consulted on all occasions of famine and distress. But 
 in the course of nature this good and saintly man died, 
 and the hermitage of San Anatol remained empty. 
 The inhabitants for a long time were puzzled as to 
 what to do and to whom to go in cases of affliction 
 and misery. 
 
 About six months after the death of the good old 
 hermit of San Anatol, as he was called, a rumour went 
 round the village that a venerable and exceedingly holy 
 old hermit, called Brother Bartolomeo, had taken up 
 his abode, as good luck would have it, in one of the
 
 268 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 rock-habitations near Lodosa. This was welcome news 
 for the villagers, who flocked to see the new adviser. 
 
 He was apparently very far advanced in years, which 
 led the worthy peasants to fear that their newly found 
 treasure and friend could not long remain among them. 
 His hair and beard were snow-white, and the latter 
 reached to his waist. He was very pious and very 
 austere, so people said, and he performed miracles. 
 He healed the sick and raised the dead, and helped 
 everyone who needed his aid or was in trouble. 
 
 Every Sunday crowds of people went to visit him in 
 the rough-hewn, dreary cave which he had chosen for 
 himself. It was the first of a number of rock-hewn 
 houses which extended in a line far out of the village 
 of Lodosa on to the lonely road leading to Calahorra. 
 He was renowned for his goodness to the poor, although 
 it seemed that they could hardly be poorer than him- 
 self. His cell was small and cramped. His bed was 
 a bundle of straw, or grass when he could get it, up in 
 one corner of the miserable hut. A pitcher of water 
 and a loaf of bread were all that was visible for food ; 
 and, excepting a large crucifix and a skull and cross- 
 bones, there was no other furniture. From time to 
 time the villagers brought him presents of cakes, dishes 
 of " puchero," or bottles of red Val de Penas. But 
 these presents were rare, for the poor creatures had 
 neither the time nor the gifts to offer frequently. 
 
 It was a stormy, cold, raw day. The wind was 
 bitter and keen, and the rain poured in torrents. In 
 the village there was woe and distress, inside as well 
 as outside a certain house, where lived a young 
 peasant, named Manuel Hermuelo. He, without any 
 fault of his own, had had many losses from bad 
 crops and misadventure ; and now, to add to his 
 troubles, the little money which he had saved (and
 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 269 
 
 very little it was) had been stolen from him. From 
 the time that he had learned the news when he came 
 in to his frugal midday meal, he had been as if stunned. 
 His wife, Maria, was frightened at the stupor which 
 seemed to come over him after hearing of his loss, 
 and which prevented him from returning to his work. 
 There he sat, staring into vacancy, his elbow on the 
 table, and his chin resting on his hand. For an hour 
 or more he remained there, never heeding anything 
 that she said, although she constantly urged him to 
 go to his work ; for she said, " It is no use crying after 
 what is gone, it would be better to make more money 
 to take its place and forget it." 
 
 To this, however, he paid no attention until about 
 two hours after Maria, looking at him with tears in 
 her eyes, as he sat there gloomy and unhappy, said 
 suddenly, " Why not go and see the Fraile Bar- 
 tolome ? He could counsel thee, and perhaps find the 
 robbers and recover thy money." 
 
 Manuel looked at his wife in a dazed sort of way, 
 and after she had repeated it several times he seemed 
 to understand and grasp what she meant. For he said, 
 "That is a good idea which the saints have put 
 into thy head. Very likely something can be found 
 out from the old man. But he is very old, and per- 
 haps his wits are not very quick." 
 
 " All the more reason why thou shouldst make the 
 most of his stay," was Maria's quick retort. " But 
 thou must not go empty handed : I will prepare thee 
 a little present for the good father." 
 
 In a few minutes after this conversation, Manuel 
 started on his mission, laden with a basket full of 
 good things. Maria had put in a cake which she had 
 baked as a special feast for the Sunday following, 
 which would be Manuel's birthday, a bottle of Val
 
 270 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 de Penas which had been a present from her father, 
 and some grapes for the holy man, who she thought 
 might help her husband in his need. She had done 
 this rather against her wish, because of her feeling as 
 to the people who had given them these delicacies ; 
 but she muttered to herself, as she packed them in 
 the basket, " The more dainty the things are, perhaps 
 the more he will help Manuel ;" and so Manuel un- 
 consciously trudged away to the rock-cave of Fraile 
 Bartolome with all his birthday surprises on his back. 
 
 The rain poured in torrents. The wind nearly blew 
 poor Manuel over as he trudged along the lonely road 
 outside Lodosa, which led to the cave of the Hermit 
 of the Rock (as he was called). 
 
 Manuel was always the most simple and gentle of 
 souls, and easily frightened, owing to his firm belief 
 in superstitions. But, unhappy as he was through 
 his misfortunes, he never noticed the whisperings 
 around him as he passed up the road to the hermit's 
 house. 
 
 Two or three times on the way he thought that he 
 would turn back and go another time, when it was 
 fine, and when the sun would cheer him on his errand. 
 But he decided, after much wavering, that perhaps no 
 sunny days would come for a month or more, and that 
 if he waited for fine weather his anger and despair 
 would have melted away, and he would not have the 
 courage to try and find out who the robbers were that 
 had ruined him and made his heart so heavy. So he 
 pushed on as bravely as he could in spite of the storm. 
 
 To his surprise, when he had climbed the steep 
 ascent to the hermit's cave, he could find no one. 
 There was a small torch of lighted pine stuck as usual 
 against the wall, in an iron ring fastened ingeniously 
 into the rock. The crucifix and miserable bed were 

 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 271 
 
 there, and the pitcher, bread, and skull and crossbones, 
 but no hermit. No human being was to be seen. 
 
 Manuel, wet to the skin, stood in the narrow door- 
 way and stared about for the old man, to whom he was 
 accustomed to confess all his sins and troubles. No 
 one was there. He stepped inside and laid down his 
 basket on the floor. He was thinking that the hermit 
 must have been summoned away to some deathbed, 
 when his eyes suddenly fell upon a snow-white beard 
 and a white wig which had been thrown carelessly 
 upon the straw bed in the corner. A sense of horror 
 crept over poor simple Manuel. His mind was not 
 capable of much reasoning, but he immediately guessed 
 that something awful had happened to the lonely man 
 who had been so good to others. He stood for a few 
 minutes motionless, trying to imagine what had hap- 
 pened. Instead of being able to help himself in his 
 trouble, Manuel thought the poor hermit had fallen a 
 prey to robbers, perhaps the very same who had ruined 
 him. And they had murdered him ruthlessly and 
 barbarously, it would seem, for they had scalped him 
 and torn off his beard. When he had recovered from 
 the first sense of horror at the deed, a sense of his 
 own danger came over him. The robbers who had 
 done this brutal deed could not be very far off, he 
 thought, and his life would not be safe for one minute 
 if they should return and find him there. 
 
 He turned quickly, and was just flying out of the 
 cave-door, regardless of the basket which he had 
 left on the floor, when he heard a harsh loud voice say 
 behind him, " What do you want here at this time of 
 night ?" and turning round he confronted a fierce- 
 looking man, a little older than himself, with a clean- 
 shaven face and a pair of angry flashing dark eyes 
 which examined him from head to foot. In one hand
 
 272 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 was a large dagger. Poor Manuel was so taken aback 
 at this reception that for a moment or two he was 
 speechless. But he soon recovered himself, and 
 stammered out, while he pointed to the basket on the 
 floor behind them : 
 
 " I brought a few gifts to the padre, whom I hoped 
 to find and to take counsel with on an important 
 matter." 
 
 Here his eyes fell upon the beard and hair in the 
 corner, and filled with tears. His voice broke as he 
 remembered the probable fate of the hermit. 
 
 "Well, well, well," said the fierce-looking man 
 soothingly, " the fraile is not here to-night, but he will 
 be glad to find your presents when he returns. I will 
 tell him about your kindness ;" and with these words 
 he fairly pushed Manuel out of the cave into the rain 
 and darkness outside. 
 
 Manuel raced home as fast as his legs would carry 
 him, and breathlessly told Maria all his adventures, 
 and that he was sure the good brother had been 
 murdered. 
 
 Now Maria was a wonderfully sharp-witted woman, 
 and was not to be deceived by any story told after 
 hasty judgment. At first she was much startled at 
 Manuel's tale, and rather agreed with him that some 
 misfortune had befallen the unhappy hermit, who, in 
 his lonely cave, might be murdered at any moment and 
 no one be any the wiser. But when she heard of the 
 hair and beard left loose on the bed, she made up her 
 mind that some trickery was being played up there in 
 that lonely cave ; and she determined to discover 
 what the secret of the hermit was. That he had been 
 murdered she no longer believed, and was more than 
 ever confirmed in this opinion when she heard of the 
 fierce-looking young man who had promised to give
 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 273 
 
 the fraile those presents which she had been at so 
 much pains to prepare and relinquish. 
 
 " But surely," she said to her husband, " thou wast 
 not stupid enough to leave the basket with that young 
 man ! He tell the reverendo of the presents and thy 
 kindness ! He will eat them himself, and never tell the 
 fraile anything about them." 
 
 Manuel was accustomed to hearing sharp things 
 from his wife when he had done anything exceedingly 
 stupid, but he thought she was a little unjust in her 
 present accusation, and exclaimed indignantly : 
 
 "But, Maria, you would have done just the same 
 thing if you had looked into that man's eyes and felt 
 that at any moment your life was not worth a peseta. 
 And he pushed me out, too gave me a very sharp 
 push, which sent me out of the door in a second. I 
 was so pleased (and so would you have been) to find 
 my head safe on my shoulders that I never gave the 
 basket a thought till I reached home." 
 
 "Well, there were all your birthday surprises in it," 
 retorted Maria, spitefully. " Ij thought the sacrifice 
 worth while, so long as there was a chance of your 
 getting back your lost money. But I never counted 
 on your leaving the contents for strangers to eat, if 
 the fraile is murdered as you say." 
 
 Manuel now began inwardly to wish that he had 
 brought his basket back again, but he would have died 
 rather than allow anything of the kind to Maria, so he 
 answered sharply : 
 
 " I would rather lose my presents than my life." 
 And Maria, unaccustomed to have her husband 
 answer back to any of her sharp sallies, was so 
 astonished at this temerity that she held her tongue, 
 and Manuel felt that for once he was master of the 
 field. 
 
 18
 
 274 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 But, though she did not refer to the subject again 
 in Manuel's hearing, she hardly ever let this day's 
 adventures out of her thoughts. Who was the fierce- 
 looking man who had first threatened her husband and 
 finally pushed him out on the road ? And how did he 
 come into the cave when there was no one there when 
 Manuel had entered ? There must be some connec- 
 tion between the different cave-houses which up to that 
 time people had supposed were separated from each 
 other by a wall of rock. That the hermit, who looked 
 so good and holy with his white beard and his snowy 
 hair, was no saint she was convinced. And she was 
 also certain that he was still alive. She had noticed on 
 one of the few occasions on which she had accompanied 
 Manuel that the hands which he held out to them 
 were not those of an old and feeble man just tottering on 
 the brink of the grave, but rather like those of a young 
 man in the full strength of manhood : the veins were 
 blue and soft, not knotted and almost purple, and the 
 knuckles flushed with young fresh red blood. She had 
 said nothing to her husband, or indeed to anyone else, 
 about her fancies. But she distrusted the hermit and 
 all his ways, and, although she hardly dared to confess 
 it to herself, she suspected that he had had a finger in 
 many of the misfortunes, robberies, and murders which 
 had been making the good villagers of Lodosa anxious 
 and miserable for some time past. She hated herself 
 for thinking such ill of a man who was much respected 
 and reverenced. But the longer she struggled against 
 the feeling the more it became conviction. All she 
 could do under the circumstances was to caution her 
 husband to hold his tongue about his adventures at 
 the cave. 
 
 " For the love of the saints," she said, " Manuel, 
 for once be wise and be guided by me. Don't go 

 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 275 
 
 prating about in the village of thy losses and the 
 accident up at the cave. I am quite sure that in a 
 few days thou wilt see the fraile walking about the 
 village as usual, and none the worse for having his 
 beard and hair torn off. I have my ideas on this 
 matter, which I cannot at present tell to thee ; but in 
 time I think I shall be able to recover the money that 
 was stolen. For I am sure that I am on the right road. 
 But all will depend upon thy entire silence. If thou 
 failest me, I shall do nothing." 
 
 This was the first time that she had mentioned the 
 subject to Manuel since the night of his adventure at 
 the cave. Manuel looked at her in a rather frightened 
 way as she made her speech, and after a moment's 
 thought answered : 
 
 " Well, Maria, perhaps thou art right ; and if thou 
 canst do anything to recover the money, I shall be 
 glad, and will hold my tongue so as not to impede 
 thee." 
 
 Manuel had not arrived at believing in Maria's 
 superior wisdom all of a sudden. The fact was that 
 to his amazement he had actually met the Fraile 
 Bartolome walking about the village only a day after 
 the supposed murder in the cave. He knew that his 
 wife would renew the unpleasantly sharp talk of the 
 night before, and he had determined in his own mind 
 to say nothing about it to Maria, and to let her believe 
 what she liked of that night-adventure until she should 
 find the matter out for herself. When she besought 
 his absolute silence on the subject, he naturally sup- 
 posed that she had at last discovered that the fraile 
 was still alive ; but Maria had drawn her own con- 
 clusions, and was ignorant of the well-being of the 
 fraile. 
 
 18 2
 
 276 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 Manuel therefore had no difficulty in obeying his 
 wife's injunctions. 
 
 A few days after Maria had begged Manuel to guard 
 his tongue, she met the fraile face to face in the 
 market, while she was buying her provisions for the 
 week. Feeling confident, as she did, that Manuel 
 had had some trick played upon him, and that the 
 hermit was alive, she was not at all surprised at 
 meeting him ; nor at finding that, in spite of Manuel's 
 belief in his murder, he still had his long white beard 
 and flowing locks. The old fraile spoke to her, asked 
 after her husband, and thanked her for her basket of 
 good things in bland, soft tones, and passed on his 
 way to see a sick and dying man. 
 
 About a month after Manuel's adventure at the 
 cave, he was absent at a piece of work which was 
 about twelve miles from Lodosa. Now was the time 
 for Maria ! No one would know anything about her 
 actions, and with her husband away she had a clear 
 field for carrying out her plan for discovering the 
 secret of the supposed saintly hermit. 
 
 One fine moonlight night she sallied forth on her 
 errand. She had no children, so after banking up 
 her little bit of fire, and locking the door of the 
 house, she started in the direction of the hermit's 
 cave. The moon was at the full, and the road looked 
 as clear and bright as at noontide. Not a soul did 
 Maria meet. When she got to the cave, she found 
 exactly what her husband had seen. The light was 
 flaring up in its iron ring against the wall but no 
 hermit was there. She looked about her carefully. 
 In the corner, on the rough straw bed, she perceived 
 a white beard and a white wig. These she immedi- 
 ately thrust into her pocket, and listened intently for 
 several minutes. But, hearing nothing, she began feel- 

 
 THE HERMlt OF THE ROCK. 277 
 
 ing the inner walls, tapping and pushing them with 
 the tips of her fingers. After much exertion and 
 trouble, she was rewarded by finding that, at the 
 corner opposite the entrance of the cave, the wall 
 gave way and yielded to her pushing. A roughly 
 made door swung back and revealed an inner cave. 
 For a minute she stood irresolute. Should she go 
 on, or not ? Her heart beat so fast and so hard that 
 she could hardly breathe freely. But the thought 
 that her husband's whole future and the recovery of 
 his money depended on her courage roused her to 
 new energy. Without another doubt, she took a small 
 end of candle out of her pocket, lit it at the torch, and 
 plunged into the adjoining cave. This cave had an 
 open door leading into another cave, and although 
 she examined every corner and crevice, she could find 
 nothing. She wandered through several caves, and 
 though dreading every minute lest she should meet 
 the man or men who were at work there somewhere 
 (for of that she felt convinced), she kept on going 
 forward and searching every place through which she 
 passed. At last there was a faint murmur of voices 
 in the distance. She stopped and listened eagerly. 
 There were several voices, for she could distinguish the 
 different tones. Blowing out her bit of candle she 
 stole nearer and nearer to the sounds until she saw a 
 light not very far from her. Towards this she crept on 
 her hands and knees. Stealthily, and without any 
 noise, and although the stone floor of the cave was 
 deadly cold, she made her way to the corner of the 
 cave nearest to the company, where through the open 
 doorway she could see one half of the next cave. 
 
 For a moment she was dazzled by the splendour. 
 In one corner, piled up in a great heap, were satins of 
 richest colours, gold plate of all kinds, swords, jewels,
 
 278 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 and everything which would naturally fall into the net 
 of the robber. In the light of the torches which were 
 placed in iron rings all round the walls of the cave, 
 these treasures glittered and blazed into the eyes of 
 the poor woman, who was watching outside in the 
 cold cavern, till she felt faint and sick with mingled 
 fear, curiosity, and covetousness. 
 
 She noticed, in spite of her anxiety and excitement, 
 that the floor of the cave where the men sat was 
 covered several inches deep with sand. From her 
 position she could see three or four men seated on 
 cushions round some object, whether a table or not 
 she could not make out. She listened very carefully, 
 and putting two and two together, what she saw with 
 what she heard, in the distinct differences of intonation 
 and voice, she concluded that ten men sat in the inner 
 cave. 
 
 Opposite to her, at the head of the table, sat a man 
 whose eyes she recognized at once, for they were those 
 of the fraile to whom she had so often confessed. 
 
 " Ah ! perfidious one !" she said in a whisper to 
 herself, " to think that I should have confessed my 
 small and insignificant sins to you, while you had 
 deeper transgressions on your soul ! Well, I have my 
 revenge upon you now." Here she put her hand in 
 her pocket and felt the wig and beard of the supposed 
 hermit, which she had secured. 
 
 The robbers were as merry as larks, and every now 
 and then the man with the bright glassy eyes blew a 
 peculiar note on an old horn which he kept close 
 beside him. Every time that he sounded this horn, 
 the company laughed long and loud. Maria had often 
 heard this sound before, and wondered what it could be. 
 Among the peasants of Lodosa she knew that there 
 was a superstition existing, that these caves were
 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 279 
 
 haunted because of this peculiar sound, which occurred 
 only at night. And, now that she knew how it was 
 produced, the whole thing was clear to her. In a flash 
 she understood that these men were robbers, and that 
 they had sounded the horn expressly to make people 
 believe that the caves were haunted after dark. It 
 answered their purpose admirably, and kept curious 
 and timid people away. 
 
 " But, brothers, it is late, and dawn will soon break," 
 said the hermit. "We must make haste over the busi- 
 ness that still remains to be done. I have had infor- 
 mation that a rich man, with his family, will pass here 
 to-morrow on his road to Calahorra. He is moving 
 into a new place, and will therefore have all his trans- 
 portable property with him. We will help to lighten 
 his responsibility and care, and be on the road to greet 
 him on his way. At midnight we will meet at the 
 usual place to-morrow. Let us go, and adios." 
 
 With this the others rose ; two or three of the 
 robbers went to the corner of the cave, opposite to 
 where the booty was lying in a heap, and after scrap- 
 ing away all the sand for three or four inches square, 
 Maria saw one of them pull up an iron ring in the 
 floor, while the others gathered up the satins and 
 jewels and bright glittering things and threw them 
 down the trap-door. Then extinguishing all the 
 torches except two, after a few minutes they separated. 
 Maria trembled and shuddered, when she thought what 
 her fate would be if she were discovered. She crept 
 very quietly on hands and knees to the farthest and 
 darkest corner of the cave. She was only just in time, 
 for the hermit passed through on his way back, with a 
 lighted torch in his hand. But the cold air met the 
 flame and blew it nearly out, so that she was not seen 
 in her distant corner.
 
 280 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 To her surprise, no one else followed ; but she heard 
 the tread of feet going the other way, and the voices 
 of the other men dying away in the distance. She 
 therefore concluded that there must be another door 
 into the open air than that by which she had come. 
 She was thankful for this, because her heart sank 
 within her, now that the excitement was over, at the 
 thought of how she could slip away unseen. If she 
 had been obliged to go back the same way by which 
 she had come, the hermit would not scruple to murder 
 her a defenceless woman. He would by that time 
 have discovered the loss of his wig and beard, and 
 would be pitiless. She took a flint and stone from 
 her pocket and carefully relighted her little end of 
 candle, and passed through into the next cave. All 
 round the cave the walls were of stone, and apparently 
 very strong and thick. But remembering her experi- 
 ence in the hermit's cave, and that she had found a 
 door in even that apparently solid rock, she immedi- 
 ately felt and tapped the outer side of this cave, and 
 after a few minutes (during which she trembled all over 
 and her knees quaked, lest the hermit should return 
 and find her there), she felt the wall move, and a door 
 swung silently back, and she found herself, to her great 
 joy and relief, out in the open road. She carefully 
 pushed the door back into its place, and, still with the 
 fear of the hermit's pursuit, she scrambled down the 
 rough and rocky path, skirted on both sides by thick 
 brushwood and small fir-bushes. She hid herself 
 behind one of the latter, dreading to hear footsteps 
 behind her. But after listening with a beating heart 
 for several minutes, and hearing nothing, she crept 
 noiselessly out from her hiding-place and got into the 
 dusty highway. 
 At first Maria was much bewildered to discover 

 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 281 
 
 where she was. The country about did not look like 
 any that she had seen before. The moon was still 
 shining, but not as clearly as when she climbed the hill 
 to the cave where the hermit lived. For great dark 
 masses of cloud completely eclipsed the moon every 
 few minutes, as she sailed calmly through the sky to 
 her setting. 
 
 There are two small villages between Lodosa and 
 Calahorra, the one, named Sartaguda, being perched up 
 on a hill, and the second, Murillejo, being surrounded 
 by olive woods. Between the glimpses of moonlight, 
 Maria could see the white houses of a village on the 
 top of a hill opposite, and realized at once that she was 
 half-way to Calahorra. She was very tired after the 
 excitement and fright which she had undergone. But 
 she was a peasant, and brought up to hard work. She 
 sat down beside the roadside, to think over what she 
 should do. Her husband was away, and would be for 
 some days. As far as she was concerned, she could as 
 well postpone her journey to Calahorra till another day. 
 But this robbery was to take place at midnight on the 
 following night. So she had no time to lose if she 
 wished to give information to the authorities at Cala- 
 horra and return to catch the robbers. 
 
 She therefore decided to go on and finish the work 
 which she had undertaken. But, first, she gathered an 
 armful of brushwood and placed it alongside of the 
 road, and underneath the low-hanging branches of one 
 of the fir-bushes opposite this pile she tied the red 
 handkerchief from round her neck, so that she could 
 mark the place where one of the entrances of the cave 
 was to be found. 
 
 Then she walked quickly along the road to 
 Calahorra. She met not a soul, and the loneliness 
 and solitude frightened her. She was always dreading
 
 282 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 lest any of the robbers should have been watching her 
 movements, and should unexpectedly jump out upon 
 her and murder her. No one would be the wiser. 
 
 At last the sun rose and streamed over hill and 
 dale, and in the distance the poor tired Maria spied 
 the walls and houses of Calahorra. 
 
 As soon as the court-house was open she went there, 
 and told her story to the magistrate who happened to 
 be listening to complaints that day. He looked rather 
 incredulous at first ; but as she went on and described 
 the caves, her stay there all night, all that she had seen, 
 and finally brought out the false beard and white wig, 
 and told of the new violent robbery which was planned 
 for that night at twelve, the magistrate's eyes glistened, 
 and he said : 
 
 " Young woman, if you will conduct the party, and if 
 your words are true, you shall be well rewarded. We 
 have long been looking for the Hermit, as you call him, 
 and although we suspected much evil of him, we have 
 had no proof. Leave me these," pointing to the beard 
 and wig, " and at twilight you shall conduct a guard 
 of soldiers to the place which you have described." 
 
 " But, senor, a guard of soldiers will not be enough. 
 For there are two entrances, and they may have agreed 
 to meet elsewhere. The words were, ' At the usual 
 place,' and that might be as far off as the village 
 beyond Lodosa." 
 
 " Never fear," returned the magistrate ; " all shall 
 be provided for." 
 
 And Maria was forced to be satisfied. 
 
 When she started at night, with a large guard, the 
 officer commanding it said : 
 
 " Show us both the entrances that is all you have 
 to do. For the rest, I have my orders, and you have 
 no responsibility." 

 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 283 
 
 Maria felt much relieved by this assurance, and con- 
 ducted the men until they came to the little heap of 
 brushwood. Here they stopped and examined the 
 bushes carefully. There she at last found her red 
 handkerchief, and quietly led the way to the cave. Here 
 a sufficient number of men were left on guard. The 
 others then, with Maria, continued their way till they 
 reached the ordinary path which led to the Hermit's 
 Cave. Here the officer and Maria, with a large body of 
 men, remained watching and hidden in the brushwood, 
 while the rest went on to the village beyond Lodosa. 
 
 They waited until one o'clock struck from the bell- 
 tower of the Lodosa church. They heard nothing in 
 the shape of a vehicle coming towards Lodosa, and 
 naturally concluded that their friends had met with a 
 desperate resistance and that very likely both the 
 occupants of the carriage and the soldiers were the 
 victims of a disastrous fate. 
 
 An agreement had been made with the men who were 
 left at the other entrance that a large bonfire should be 
 made of brushwood, in the road, if any sound were made 
 inside the cave. Then those at the Hermit's Cave were 
 to enter and meet the others at the dining-room of the 
 cave, and that a part should be told off to protect the 
 trap-door of treasure, of which Maria had spoken to 
 them. 
 
 While they were waiting, therefore, in great anxiety 
 and perplexity, Maria saw the flaring light of the bonfire 
 against the sky. She crept out of her hiding-place and 
 called the men. She lit a torch and let them through 
 the caves which she knew so well ; and when they got 
 to the last cave of all, they heard the murmur of voices. 
 Evidently a consultation was going on as to what they 
 should do next. Silently the soldiers filed into the cave, 
 while the robbers stood confounded and uncertain, taken
 
 284 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 so completely by surprise. Silently some covered the 
 trap-door to which Maria led without a word. Quietly 
 she went to the opposite corner of the cave, pushed 
 open the door, and admitted the remainder of the 
 guard. 
 
 The robbers, taken utterly by surprise, could do 
 nothing. They saw that with such odds against them 
 they could not hope to gain anything, and succumbed 
 without resistance. Maria showed the soldiers the 
 trick of the subterranean cave, in which they found 
 plenty of booty, which they secured and carried back 
 along with the prisoners to Calahorra. The Hermit, 
 when he saw Maria, gave a cry of recognition. 
 
 " Is it possible," he said, " that you, a mere woman, 
 have found me out when for so many years I have 
 deceived all the men ?" 
 
 " When a woman with any wit about her has had her 
 husband robbed, and that husband returns from a visit 
 to his confessor, telling of a loose wig and beard and a 
 young man in the fraile's cave, naturally the wife puts 
 two and two together and watches," snapped Maria in 
 reply; and the Hermit, to the marvel of all his followers, 
 merely bowed his head and said not a word. 
 
 After collecting all the treasure that could be found, 
 the prisoners were marched back to Calahorra between 
 files of soldiers. Maria returned to her own home, and 
 a few days after her husband returned. 
 
 When he came back, he found everyone discussing 
 the fact that the fraile had for some time utterly dis- 
 appeared from Lodosa. W T here he had gone no one 
 could say. But there had been a dreadful robbery 
 committed beyond Lodosa, and since then he had not 
 been heard of. 
 
 " He has been murdered at last," thought simple 
 Manuel, and, when he went home, retailed to Maria all
 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 285 
 
 that he had gathered in the market-place. Maria did 
 not say much, or seem much astonished, when he told 
 her this (to him) extraordinary and inexplicable news. 
 
 " I always told you that the fraile was a fraud," she 
 said scornfully, "and that some time or other he would 
 come to a bad end." 
 
 And there the matter dropped between them. Not 
 by a word or a gesture or a sign of any kind did Maria 
 show that she knew anything more than her neighbours 
 and her husband, i.e., that the hermit had mysteriously 
 disappeared ; and not one of the many to whom Maria 
 spoke of the affair suspected for a minute that she 
 really knew more and could tell more than they, who 
 thought that she heard the news for the first time. She 
 thought a great deal over everything that had passed 
 before her husband returned, and decided that until 
 something more happened she would hold her tongue. 
 That something else would happen before very long she 
 felt quite sure, and therefore she waited. And she was 
 not mistaken. 
 
 Manuel was much startled one day by a poor old 
 man, who said he had come from the Calahorra prison 
 and had a message for him from the Fraile Bartolome. 
 Would he come to see him at the prison in Calahorra, 
 for " he had something to tell him ? Manuel, much 
 alarmed and taken aback that his friend should be 
 in prison after all, eagerly asked the messenger for 
 particulars. But he, old and very deaf, could tell him 
 nothing more than the message that had been entrusted 
 to him. But Maria came up at this moment, and, 
 touching Manuel on the shoulder, said : 
 
 " Wait till the man has gone, and I will tell thee all 
 that has happened." 
 
 After making him promise to tell no one until she 
 gave him leave, Maria then explained to Manuel
 
 286 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 everything that had occurred, and her share in the 
 affair. 
 
 He, timid soul, was more frightened than ever, and 
 fell back upon his wife for advice as to what he should 
 do about accepting the fraile's invitation to visit him. 
 
 " I will go with thee," she replied promptly, " for I 
 am also summoned by the authorities to come to Cala- 
 horra and receive the reward which was promised to 
 me, if I conducted the party in safety, and if what I 
 said was true. As it has all turned out as I believed 
 and expected, there will be no difficulty. But when 
 thou goest to the Hermit, I will go with thee. As 
 thou knowest, every piece of cloth will not make a sail ; 
 and I trust him not. Having injured thee once, I 
 feel sure that he will revenge himself upon thee." 
 
 Manuel was so stupefied at all that Maria had told 
 him, that he thankfully accepted the offer of her com- 
 pany. They therefore started together on their journey 
 to Calahorra, especially as Maria had said there would 
 be no difficulty about the reward due to her ; and after 
 receiving this she accompanied her husband to the 
 prison. 
 
 The cell in which the hermit-robber had been placed 
 was very small ; it was lighted by a window at the 
 very top of the wall, by which they saw the Hermit 
 chained hand and foot to a stone bench, against the 
 wall. His eyes were as bright and as restless as ever, 
 and when he caught sight of Maria and Manuel a 
 smile of satisfaction came over his face, and Manuel 
 recognised in him, to his amazement, the young man 
 whom he had met in the cave. 
 
 The Hermit broke the silence by saying, " So you 
 have come at last !" 
 
 " Yes," answered Manuel, " I am here as you see. 
 What is it you want of me ?" 

 
 THE HERMIT OF THE ROCK. 287 
 
 For a long time the Hermit said no more ; he sat as 
 if he were thinking over things very quietly to himself ; 
 then he said : 
 
 " As I helped to rob you, I wish to tell you where 
 you will find something that will repay you. All my 
 comrades in the robbery were hung this morning, and 
 I, as their leader, shall not have many hours to live. 
 Not another human being knows what I am going to 
 tell you. In the end cave, which your wife knows, you 
 will find in the floor a trap-door with an iron ring. 
 Maria knows well where to look for it ; but she does not 
 know that by going down a flight of steps she will find 
 a larger cave, with the same sort of swing-door in the 
 wall as in the place above. This door leads into a 
 small room, and whatever treasure you find there is 
 yours. There is no more to be said. Go !" 
 
 Manuel and Maria followed the instructions given, 
 and on becoming possessed of the treasure determined 
 to quit the poor village of Lodosa, and went to live at 
 Valencia, where they bought a farm and grew prosper- 
 ous and wealthy. 
 
 The robber-chief was executed very shortly after, but 
 he is still spoken of in Lodosa as the " Hermit of the 
 Rock."
 
 XXX. 
 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE province of Soria is, next to that of Granada, 
 famous in Spain for picturesque legends. It is one of 
 the smallest and most arid of the Peninsula, and the 
 climate is the coldest imaginable in the sunny south. 
 Chains of mountains encircle deep valleys, picturesque 
 in their form, but unattractive from their sterility. In 
 certain parts the vegetation is strong and rich, and 
 here and there rise great stretches of pine and oak 
 forests. In other parts lie immense pasture grounds, 
 formerly overspread by flocks of sheep ; but the greater 
 part of the country consists of nothing but bare moun- 
 tains which are covered with snow for a great part of 
 the year. The huge masses of granite tower above on 
 each side of the pathway, and every here and there 
 deep ravines and cascades supply the springs, in which 
 the water is supposed to be extraordinarily good. The 
 children of the inhabitants near these springs are em- 
 ployed to fetch the water for the household, and there 
 is a superstition existing among them that those of the 
 little ones who are the best and the purest will one day 
 come upon a treasure hidden in the mountain. 
 
 Carmenita Todega was the daughter of a well-to-do 
 farmer of Soria ; her mother had died when she was 
 born, and thus ended a contention which had lasted 
 

 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 289 
 
 all through her married life ; for Miguel Todega had 
 married, to please himself, a sweet and pretty woman, 
 but she was poor, and so had not satisfied his old 
 mother's ambition. The latter died soon after her 
 daughter-in-law, and Carmenita was brought up by an 
 aunt who detested her for her mother's sake, for not 
 only did she resemble her in mind and spirit, but also 
 in face and figure. One would have thought that a 
 little baby like that might have softened the heart of 
 even a stone ; but Juana Todega had no heart, and she 
 said she had no time for sentimentality of that kind. 
 She herself had worked hard in her youth, and she 
 meant that Carmenita should do the same. She was a 
 grasping, mischievous, hard-featured woman, with a sour 
 temper and a sharp tongue, and all little Carmenita's 
 peccadilloes were treated with the utmost harshness. 
 
 If Miguel Todega had been much at home he would 
 have seen how his child was treated, but he was con- 
 stantly absent on business, and Carmenita never com- 
 plained. She adored her father, who loved her passion- 
 ately, not only because she was his only daughter, but 
 because she resembled so much the beloved Carmen, 
 the love of his youth, whom he had lost. 
 
 The little child obeyed her aunt's orders, and did her 
 work well ; but sometimes there was a weary and pathetic 
 look on her face, which plainly said that her tasks were 
 beyond her strength. But she never murmured or 
 showed any temper, so people took no notice, and 
 thought that all was right in that household. 
 
 Every morning and evening, Carmenita was sent by 
 her aunt with two heavy copper jars to a spring about 
 half a mile from the house. There was a large black 
 mountain which reared its huge mass behind the little 
 spring in the valley, and which was fe'd by the cascades 
 and mountain torrents. The mountain was called by 
 
 19
 
 290 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 the peasants " El Diablo," because it was dark and for- 
 bidding-looking, because it wore a curious cap when- 
 ever a storm was coming on, and therefore must have 
 dealings and understandings with the Evil One, and 
 because strange and uncanny noises were constantly 
 heard near it after dark. Almost everyone feared to 
 go to this particular spring after nightfall, because of 
 these noises. But Juana Todega scorned the idea of 
 superstitions, and insisted that the little Carmen should 
 go and get water at the spring of El Diablo. And 
 though the child was sometimes awed by the grandeur 
 and loneliness of the mountains near by, she preferred 
 going there to staying at home and being scolded and 
 beaten by her aunt. 
 
 Carmenita was a great favourite among the other 
 children of the village, and when she could have a little 
 leisure from her usual dreary tasks, she was always as 
 welcome as the flowers. But there were times (if her 
 aunt had been unusually severe, and if, unable to bear 
 the accumulation of misery poured upon her, she had 
 cried until her eyes were all red and swollen) when 
 she preferred to be alone. Then she would take her 
 bit of knitting and retire to the spring of El Diablo to 
 think over her trouble, and calm her wounded spirit to 
 bear whatever else was in store for her. 
 
 She had often heard the curious superstition attached 
 to the mountains about the Soria, but she never thought 
 much about the possible treasure to be found, because 
 she was not, she felt quite sure, good enough for such 
 fortune. 
 
 Her father's return home was always an unmixed 
 delight, for besides the pleasure of seeing him and being 
 with him, Juana Todega was then more merciful to her. 
 She knew from experience how angry Miguel could get 
 if he were once roused, and she did not dare to scold 

 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 291 
 
 or maltreat his daughter before his very eyes. So 
 Carmenita always had a respite from her aunt's 
 tongue and evil temper while her father remained at 
 home. 
 
 And so matters continued until Carmenita was 
 seventeen. She was very like her mother, and made 
 her father sigh as he looked at her. Graceful and 
 shapely, with sweet deep grey eyes and a fresh clear 
 voice, she made many a man's heart turn within him, 
 as she passed on her way to El Diablo with her water- 
 jars, and answered to his greeting with her sunny smile 
 and a few pleasant words. 
 
 It was St. John's Eve, and there was to be a dance 
 on the village green to finish the day. Carmenita 
 danced well, with a step as light as a fairy's ; and all the 
 youths of the neighbourhood vied with each other in 
 securing her as a partner for at least two dances. She 
 enjoyed these fete-days, when she was free from her 
 duties and drudgery, and could unbend in mere enjoy- 
 ment and delight, sure that her aunt WDuld not be near 
 to scold and find fault, according to her usual wont. 
 For Dona Juana did not approve of anything like 
 holiday-making. In her day, she used to say, no one 
 thought of dancing and frolicking about like lambs 
 and goats. A quiet walk and mass in the morning, 
 with a few friends to chat with in the evening, was all 
 the fete that was necessary for a young, well-conducted 
 peasant-girl like Carmenita, when she was young. So 
 she always declined accompanying Carmenita to any 
 of these little merry-makings, but deputed a neighbour 
 an elderly and respectable peasant woman, with 
 daughters of her own, to take her under her care. 
 The neighbour was nothing loath, for her son Carlos 
 was much smitten with Carmenita's charms, and every- 
 one said that they would make a match of it. In 
 
 192
 
 292 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 truth they were a handsome pair, and each and all had 
 nothing to say but good of either of them. Old Dona 
 Ursula therefore considered Carmenita already as 
 another daughter, and was, if possible, prouder of her 
 than of her own girls. 
 
 On this particular St. John's Eve, Carmenita dressed 
 herself with especial care. In a few weeks, when her 
 father returned, her betrothal to Carlos would take 
 place, and this would be the last time that she would be 
 free to dance with whom she liked, and be her own 
 mistress. She knew that she should see Carlos there, 
 and she felt a pride in making herself as pretty as she 
 could, knowing that her lover would be doubly proud 
 of her. 
 
 Just as she was ready to start for Dona Ursula's house, 
 her Aunt Juana called to her, and said : 
 
 " It is not nearly dark yet, and there will be no danc- 
 ing for an hour or more. We have not a drop of water 
 in the house, and there will be plenty of time for you to 
 go and get the water and return." 
 
 Carmenita looked ready to cry, as she listened to her 
 aunt's words. 
 
 " Is it absolutely necessary for me to go, Tia Juana ?" 
 she said, " for I have put on my Sunday clothes, and I 
 shall get them splashed at the spring." 
 
 " You never have been splashed before, and if you 
 are careful you need not be now," was Juana's answer. 
 " But have the water we must ; for it is hot weather, 
 and we need it." 
 
 "But for once could you not get it yourself?" pleaded 
 Carmenita. " I do so want to go to the Plaza ; and 
 Carlos will be waiting for me." 
 
 Whereupon Juana burst out upon poor Carmenita 
 with a torrent of abuse mingled with curses. For a mo- 
 ment Carmenita stood speechless, and as though she had
 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 293 
 
 been stunned. She had been accustomed to her aunt's 
 unseemly language from her childhood, and she did not 
 mind the words and oaths which she used ; but the dis- 
 appointment was very great, almost more than she 
 could bear, and her eyes filled with tears, which she 
 kept from brimming over by sheer force of will. 
 
 Without another word she took up her jars and de- 
 parted on her errand. Dona Ursula lived quite at the 
 other end of the village from her, and so she could not 
 stop and give her warning that she might be late. But 
 she hoped that she might, if she hurried, get to the 
 Plaza in time to keep her appointment with Carlos. 
 
 But the hours slipped by, and still Carmenita did not 
 appear. Dona Ursula and her daughters waited until 
 the daylight faded away, and the stars came out one by 
 one. But still no Carmenita. At last they could wait no 
 longer, and went on to the Plaza, thinking that perhaps 
 she would be there. But she was nowhere to be seen, 
 although Carlos wandered about like a lost spirit, and 
 searched among the many groups of peasants who had 
 come for the festival and the dancing. 
 
 At first he was angry with Carmenita, thinking that she 
 had deceived him ; but as the evening came to an end 
 he became alarmed, and went to Miguel Todega's house 
 in the hope of finding her. But he found Juana instead, 
 frightened, as it seemed, nearly out of her wits, and 
 walking up and down the kitchen wringing her hands 
 and tearing her hair. 
 
 " Oh, Carlos, I cannot find her !" cried she, when 
 she saw him standing in the doorway. " I was cruel 
 and cross, and, in spite of her entreaties to go to the 
 dance in the Plaza, I sent her to fetch water at El 
 Diablo ; and she went without a murmur, although I 
 know that she thought me hard. But when in an hour 
 she did not return, I was fearful of what I had done,
 
 294 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 and went to find her. At the best of times, as you 
 know, El Diablo is not a cheerful place, and the lone- 
 liness and desolation along that road was awful. When 
 I got to the spring, I found the jars beside it on the 
 brink, but no Carmenita. I called and whistled, and 
 walked up and down, shrieking her name with all my 
 might. No one could I see, and not a sound could I 
 hear. All of a sudden I heard the tramp of horses' 
 feet, and on looking in the direction of the sound I 
 saw a procession of horses mounted by the stillest and 
 palest of men, who turned their heads neither to the 
 right nor to the left, but continued straight along in a 
 stately march on the high-road. They wore curious 
 twisted handkerchiefs on their heads, and were not 
 dressed like anyone I ever saw before. They did not 
 see me, for I was hidden behind a rock. After they 
 had passed, I called and called to Carmenita, but she 
 did not come ; so I came home again. If those 
 ghostly-looking men saw her, no one knows what her 
 fate might be. And it is all my fault. Kill me if you 
 like, Carlos ; for what shall I say to Miguel when he 
 returns? I, who have been the cause of some harm to 
 Carmenita ! " And she sobbed and cried and wrung 
 her hands as if no one were present. 
 
 Carlos had listened to Juana's long speech with won- 
 derment. It was the longest harangue that he had 
 ever heard her make, for she was usually a singularly 
 taciturn person with her neighbours. But when she 
 mentioned the procession of ghostly people whom she 
 had seen, his cheek turned pale and he staggered into 
 a chair ; for he remembered that it was the Eve of St. 
 John, and the night when all good Moors, wherever 
 buried, rise from their resting-places and go to do 
 homage to their king in Granada. What if they had 
 taken Carmenita along with them ?
 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 293 
 
 For some time he stared at her in silence, but his 
 anger at last overcame him, and he overwhelmed Juana 
 with reproaches. 
 
 "Accursed woman !" he cried, "you have been the 
 torment and slave-driver of my poor girl. All her life 
 you have made her miserable when her father was not 
 near to see how you treated her. And now, on this 
 night, when you knew, as all Spaniards do know, that 
 the spirits of the dead are free to go about the earth 
 as on the night of All Hallowe'en, you forced her to go 
 to the spring of El Diablo for your own caprice, and 
 because you wished to curtail her innocent pleasure, in 
 which you can take no part. If anything happens to 
 Carmenita, I shall hold you responsible, and shall charge 
 you publicly with her death." 
 
 With these words he rushed out of the house, leav- 
 ing Juana pale as a ghost, wringing her hands and 
 speechless with terror. 
 
 Carlos meanwhile made his way towards the spring 
 of El Diablo. The moon was sailing through an un- 
 clouded sky. Every rock and tuft of grass were as 
 clearly seen as if it were noontide. He looked along 
 the road anxiously to see whether his beloved Carmen- 
 ita were in sight ; but not a soul could be seen along 
 the bright, straight, dusty highway. When he reached 
 the spring to which Carmenita was in the habit of 
 going, he could see by the moonlight the water-jarr 
 which she had brought, filled to the very brim, ant. 
 standing just where she had placed them ready to take 
 home. In vain he wandered about in search of her in 
 the defiles and paths of the mountain, calling her name. 
 The echoes alone answered him, and no one appeared, 
 and he could find no traces of his beloved Carmenita. 
 
 After searching for some hours alone near the dread- 
 ful mountain, hearing the trampling of horses' feet, and
 
 296 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 groans all about him, but seeing nothing, he returned 
 home. On his way, however, he stopped and told 
 Juana Todega of what he had heard, and of his ill- 
 success. She seemed to be almost a mad creature, 
 and sprang at him when he entered, caught him by 
 the wrist and shoulder and shook him, her eyes glaring 
 at him like a she-bear deprived of her young. 
 
 " Well have you found her ? Where is she ?" 
 she cried. And when he made no answer she shook 
 him again. "Speak!" she almost shrieked. "Have 
 you found her or is she dead ? Speak ! or I will be the 
 death of you as you stand." 
 
 Carlos was so weak from anxiety and misery that he 
 could only shake his head, yet with such a fierce expres- 
 sion in his eyes that involuntarily Juana let go her hold 
 of him and recoiled into the farthest corner of the 
 room, standing at bay as if she were afraid of him. 
 
 But, in less time than it takes to tell it, he had lifted 
 the latch of the door and had gone away from her. 
 
 Meanwhile Carmenita was in no danger, although 
 she had missed the fete, and had caused all this alarm 
 to her aunt and lover. 
 
 She had gone as usual to the spring of El Diablo, 
 had filled her jars, and was preparing to return home, 
 when she heard a sound of horses' feet, and she saw a 
 long procession of horses with riders upon them dressed 
 in curious costumes and trappings, who passed her in 
 solemn and stately dignity. For a few minutes she was 
 astonished, and looked on in childlike delight. But as 
 the procession of pallid, stately faces came near her and 
 passed her, she suddenly felt cold and paralyzed with 
 fear. What for, she knew not, and could not under- 
 stand, but she trembled in every limb, and her teeth 
 chattered even on that warm June evening. After 
 the procession had passed she came to herself, and
 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 297 
 
 was preparing to take up her jars and start for home, 
 the Plaza, and Carlos, when she felt a hand laid on her 
 arm, and on turning round saw a beautiful woman, 
 with a lovely fair face and golden hair, and the most 
 enchanting blue eyes that she had ever beheld. She 
 was very pale, and stood looking earnestly at her for 
 several minutes after their eyes met. At last she said, 
 in a low sweet voice : 
 
 " I have been looking for you a long time. Will 
 you come and help me in a very serious difficulty ? It 
 will not take you very long, and I have waited for years 
 for you. For you the few minutes will be nothing, but 
 for me they will be an eternity." 
 
 Carmenita was much disturbed in her mind when 
 she heard these words, and thought to herself: 
 
 " I am fated not to get to the Plaza and to Carlos to- 
 night ; but if I can help this poor soul, who has waited 
 so long for me, I have not the heart to refuse." 
 
 " Carlos can wait," replied the fair woman, answering 
 her thoughts. And when Carmenita started at finding 
 the inward workings of her mind so well known to her 
 companion, and turned towards her, the beautiful blue 
 eyes were fixed upon her, sad with the sadness of 
 death. " Do not refuse me," she said, in a faint 
 whisper, " but come with me." 
 
 And without a word Carmenita followed .her, leaving 
 the water-jars at the brink of the stream. 
 
 They walked for nearly a mile without saying a word, 
 the fair woman walking, or rather gliding in front, and 
 Carmenita following. Where she was going, or what 
 she was to do when she got to her destination, never 
 troubled her mind. She felt that she could be of use 
 to this fair proud woman, so strange and distant in her 
 manner, who knew all about Carlos, and had assured 
 her that he could wait. That surely meant that she
 
 298 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 would be safe, and return to him in a little while. 
 Suddenly her guide turned. The rocks opened at 
 her touch, and she walked into a large cave, black as 
 night. 
 
 " Shut your eyes and give me your hand," said her 
 companion, "and rest assured that no harm of any 
 kind shall befall you." 
 
 Carmenita felt so sure that her guide would keep her 
 word, that without a doubt she shut her eyes and 
 put her hand in that of the beautiful lady. She 
 noticed that it was as cold as ice, but the clasp was 
 firm, almost like a vice, and hurt her a little. 
 
 They seemed to go through several large rooms, and 
 at last her companion stopped short. 
 
 " Open your eyes now," she said ; " we are in a place 
 where we can speak without being overheard. 
 
 Carmenita looked about her, and saw with astonish- 
 ment that the walls glittered like ice, and that every 
 here and there there seemed a tinge of gold mixed with it. 
 " Sit down here near me," said her new friend, 
 " and I will tell you what you can do for me. You 
 can free me from my dreadful bondage. Centuries 
 ago I lived in the flesh. I am Moorish, and was taken 
 prisoner by the Christians in the wars with the Moors. 
 I loved my Christian master, and cheerfully left my 
 own people for his sake, following him to his country 
 and repudiating my ancestors and their religion. My 
 father cursed me with his last breath, and wished that 
 I might never find rest for my soul till some pure young 
 guileless maiden should on St. John's Eve willingly kiss 
 my lips, and of her own sweet charity free my wandering 
 and unhappy spirit. Are you willing to do this for me ? 
 Remember that I shall have to take various forms be- 
 fore my spirit will be liberated, but pray be faithful and 
 stand by me to the end. Nothing can harm you, if you
 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 299 
 
 keep repeating your prayers. But do not for one 
 minute stop or be afraid. So many have promised, 
 but I have been disappointed hitherto, and still remain 
 under this accursed spell. Hold this pitcher in your 
 left hand, tight, and don't let it go. It will bring you 
 fortune ; but never cease your prayers for one minute, 
 nor be frightened at anything you may hear or see. 
 And, above all, do not answer to any question, or cry 
 out, lest you may not hear. Remember that my life is 
 in your hands, and be faithful." 
 
 " I will," said Carmenita, grasping the curious dark 
 bronze-looking pitcher in her left hand, and beginning 
 her prayers. 
 
 Suddenly her companion changed into a black ape, 
 and sat beside her. The cave was filled full with other 
 large black apes, who chattered and grinned at her and 
 at each other. This lasted about five minutes : to Car- 
 menita they seemed five hours. But she grasped her 
 pitcher tightly in her left hand, and repeated her prayers 
 as earnestly and fervently as she could. She tried to 
 shut out the grinning, ugly faces, but to her horror 
 she found that she could not shut her eyes. She 
 was obliged to see everything that happened that 
 night. 
 
 Suddenly she heard the tramp of horses' feet, but she 
 could see nothing ; but every now and then there would 
 be a call of " Mona " (monkey), followed by peals of 
 laughter and shouts of derision. Then for a time 
 everything was quiet, excepting that the apes still 
 grinned and chattered at her. Suddenly she heard 
 her own name called, in Carlos' voice : " Carmenita, 
 Carmenita!" it cried; "where are you, my love? I 
 am looking for you, and am wild with terror." 
 
 She started up eagerly, but still grasped the pitcher 
 in her left hand. In an instant more she would have
 
 300 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 answered Carlos, had she not felt a hand on her arm, 
 and caught sight of the piteous and beseeching look in 
 the eyes of the poor ape sitting beside her. " Carlos 
 can wait!" came into her mind; she said her prayers 
 out loud, as fast as she could, so that she might not hear 
 that dear voice calling her in vain. Again after a time 
 all was still. She turned round to look at her friend, 
 when to her horror she found that instead of a monkey's 
 shape sitting beside her, there was that of a devil, and 
 lo and behold the cave was filled with devils, all dancing 
 and laughing and jeering at her. 
 
 " Indeed I have fallen into strange quarters," was 
 the thought that crossed her mind as she continued 
 her prayers ; but somehow, though she tried to speak 
 fast, her tongue seemed tied. She still managed to 
 articulate, however, and grasped the pitcher in her 
 left hand all the more tightly. The little devil at her 
 side suddenly burst out into flames, and through the 
 fire Carmenita could see her beautiful guide taking 
 human shape again. 
 
 " Kiss me on the lips now," whispered a faint voice 
 at her side. 
 
 " Gloria in excelsis Deo !" cried Carmenita, as she 
 stooped forward, and in spite of the heat of the flames 
 she kissed the poor creature who had wandered so long 
 upon earth under a curse. The sound echoed through 
 the cave; a sudden darkness came over Carmenita, 
 and an irresistible sleepiness overpowered her. When 
 she awoke, she was lying on the brink of the spring of 
 El Diablo, her two water-jars by her side, but grasping 
 in her left hand a golden pitcher, of antique shape and 
 exquisite Oriental workmanship. 
 
 The dawn was breaking, and the birds were beginning 
 their morning song, when Carmenita turned her face 
 homewards. 

 
 THE GOLDEN PITCHER. 301 
 
 On the road she met Carlos, looking dishevelled and 
 unhappy. She smiled at him, but at first he could 
 hardly believe his senses. Then he caught her in his 
 arms ; he kissed her, and laughed, and cried over her by 
 turns. 
 
 " O mi amor, mi corazon, where have you been ? 
 The spirits have been merciful and sent you back to 
 me, for they knew that I should die without shriving if 
 you were not with me to make me as pure and good 
 as yourself." 
 
 Carmenita then told him all that had happened to 
 her. When she showed him the golden pitcher, lo ! it 
 was full of gold coins. In his eagerness he put his 
 hand into the pitcher to grasp the money, and brought 
 out pebbles. But when Carmenita put hers inside, she 
 drew out a handful of gold pieces. 
 
 " Ah," cried Carlos, " only the pure in heart can 
 touch it and keep the pitcher bright. I have learned 
 my lesson ;" and he kissed Carmenita more tenderly 
 and reverently than ever before, knowing that he had 
 won a rare treasure for his wife. 
 
 She, simple child, wondered but said nothing. On 
 reaching home she found her aunt Juana in great 
 distress of mind, wringing her hands and tearing her 
 hair, rocking herself from side to side, wondering how 
 she should dare to face Miguel and tell him that through 
 her fault harm had come to Carmenita, and that she 
 was lost to them for ever. There was great rejoicing 
 in the household, as may be imagined, when Carlos 
 led Carmenita triumphantly into the house. In her 
 own mind Juana Todega made splendid resolutions that 
 she would never be unkind or cross again. The pitcher 
 was placed in a niche where everyone could see it. Of 
 course the whole village crowded to see this wonderful
 
 302 SPANISH LEGENDARY TALES. 
 
 relic, and everyone said with all his heart that no one 
 deserved such good fortune as Carmenita. 
 
 Miguel's return home was still delayed. All went on 
 in the usual routine, and the adventure at El Diablo 
 gradually became an old story. Carmenita took her 
 water-jars to the spring every day, and went through 
 her usual drudgery. 
 
 One day, when Carmenita was out at El Diablo, the 
 devil entered into Juana's heart. She was all alone in 
 the house, and no one would know what she was doing, 
 she thought. She did not know the secret of the 
 pitcher, but had noticed that when Carmenita wanted 
 any money she only went and put her hand in and 
 drew out what she wanted. So, tempted by the demon, 
 she went to the pitcher, which looked of a dull bronze 
 colour, and put her hand in. She drew it out very 
 quickly with a loud cry, and found her hand covered 
 with red ants, which had bit and stung her sharply 
 before she could get to the pail of water and drown 
 them. For days she went about with her hand bound 
 up, swollen to twice its usual size. But she was 
 warned by this experience, and never tampered with 
 Carmenita's golden pitcher again. 
 
 In the course of time Miguel returned to his house, 
 and a few weeks after Carmenita and her faithful Carlos 
 were married. They went to Barcelona to live, and 
 Carlos in course of time bought a large silk manufac- 
 tory there. One of the most conspicuous things in 
 their house is the Golden Pitcher, which is said not to 
 have lost all its virtues. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.
 
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 BY BASIL. 
 A Drawn Game. 
 
 BY W. BESANT & JAMES RICE. 
 Ready-Money, Mortiboy. 
 My Little Girl. 
 Tha Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 This Son of Vulcan. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 By Cclia's Arbour. 
 The Monks of Thelema. 
 'Twas In Trafalgar's Bay. 
 The Seamy Side. 
 Thu Ten Years' Tenant. 
 The; Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 Dorothy Forster. 
 
 BY WA.LIER BESANT. 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 The Captains' Room. 
 Ail In a Garden Fair. 
 Dorothy Forster. 
 
 BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 A Child of Nature. 
 God and the Man. 
 The Shadow of the Sword. 
 The Martyrdom of Madeline. 
 Love Me for Ever. 
 Annan Water. I The New Abelard. 
 Matt. I Foxglove Manor. 
 
 BY MRS. H. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian. 
 
 BY MORTIMER COLLINS. 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 Transmigration. 
 From Midnight to Midnight. 
 MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 The Village Comedy. 
 You Play me False. 
 
 BY WILKIE COLLINS. 
 
 Antonina. 
 Basil. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 The Dead Secret. 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 My Miscellanies. 
 Woman in White. 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 Miss or Mrs. ? 
 
 BY DUTTON COOK. 
 
 Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
 BY WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 By ALPIIONSE DAUDET. 
 Port Salvation. 
 
 BY JAMES DE MILLE. 
 A Castle in Spain. 
 
 New Magdalen. 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 The Law and the 
 
 Lady. 
 
 TheTwo Destinies 
 Haunted Hotel. 
 The Fallen Leaves 
 Jezebel'sDaughtep 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science
 
 28 
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY 
 
 PICCADILLY NOVELS, continued 
 
 BY J. LEITH DERWENT. 
 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
 BY M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 
 Felicia. | Kitty. 
 
 BY MRS. ANNIE EDWARDES. 
 Archie Lovell. 
 
 BY R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 Olympla. I One by One. 
 
 Queen Cophetua. I A Real Queen. 
 Prefaced by Sir BARTLE FRERE. 
 Pandurang Harl. 
 
 BY EDWARD GARRETT. 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 BY CHARLES GIBBON. 
 Robin Gray. | For Lack of Gold. 
 In Love and War. 
 What will the World Say? 
 For the King. 
 In Honour Bound. 
 Queen of the Meadow. 
 In Pastures Green. 
 The Flower of the Forest. 
 A Heart's Problem. 
 The Braes of Yarrow. 
 The Golden Shaft. 
 Of High Degree. 
 Fancy Free. | Loving a Dream. 
 
 BY HALL CAINE. 
 The Shadow of a Crime. 
 
 BY THOMAS HARDY. 
 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 
 BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 Garth. 
 
 Elllce Quentln. 
 Sebastian Strome. 
 Prince Saroni's Wife. 
 Dust. | Fortune's Fool. 
 
 Beatrix Randolph. 
 Miss Cadogna. 
 
 BY SIR A. HELPS. 
 Ivan de Biron. 
 
 BV MRS. ALFRED HUNT. 
 Thornlcroft's Model 
 The Leaden Casket. 
 Self-Condemned. 
 
 BY JEAN INGELOW. 
 Fated to be Free. 
 
 BY HARRIETT JAY. 
 The Queen of Connaught 
 The Dark Colleen. 
 
 BY HENRY KINGSLEY. 
 Number Seventeen. 
 Oakshott Castla 
 
 PICCADILLY NOVELS, continued 
 BY E. LYNN LINTON. 
 Patricia Kemball. 
 Atonement of Learn Dundaa. 
 The World Well Lost. 
 Under which Lord? 
 With a Silken Thread 
 The Rebel of the Family 
 "My Love !" | lone. 
 
 BY HENRY W. LUCY. 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P. 
 
 The Waterdale Neighbours. 
 My Enemy's Daughter. 
 Llnley Rochford. | A Fair Saxon. 
 Dear Lady Disdain. 
 Miss Misanthrope. 
 Donna Quixote. 
 The Comet of a Season. 
 Maid of Athens. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAC DONALD. LL.D. 
 Paul Faber, Surgeon. 
 Thomas Wingfold, Curate. 
 
 BY MRS. MACDONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
 BY KATHARINE S. MACQUOID. 
 Lost Rose | The Evil Eye. 
 
 BY FLORENCE MARRY AT. 
 Open ! Sesame ! | written In Fire. 
 
 BY JEAN MIDDLEMASS. 
 Touch and Go. 
 
 BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 Coals of Fire. 
 Val Strange. 
 Hearts. 
 
 Life's Atonement. 
 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 
 A Model Father. 
 
 By the Gate of the Sea 
 
 The Way of the World. 
 
 A Bit of Human Nature. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 
 Whlteladies. 
 
 BY MARGARET A. PAUL. 
 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 BY JAMES PAYN. 
 Lost Sir Massing- Carlyon's Year. 
 
 berd. 
 
 Best of Husbands 
 Fallen Fortunes. 
 Halves. 
 
 Walter's Word. 
 What He Cost Her For Cash Only. 
 Less Black than Some Private 
 
 We're Painted. 
 By Proxy. 
 High Spirits. 
 Under One Roof. 
 
 A Confldentia 
 
 Agent. 
 From Exile. 
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 Thorn. 
 
 Views. 
 
 Kit : A Msinory. 
 The Canon's 
 
 Ward. 
 BY E. C. PRICE. 
 
 Valentlna. | The Foreigner*. 
 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival.
 
 CHATTO & W 'INDUS, PICCADILLY. 
 
 29 
 
 PICCADILLY NOVELS, continued 
 BY CHARLES READS, D.C.L. 
 It is Never Too Late to Mend. 
 Hard Cash. I Peg Wofflngton. 
 Christie Johnstone. 
 Griffith Gaunt. | Foul Play. 
 The Double Marriage. 
 Love Me Little, Lovs Me Long. 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 The Course of True Love. 
 The Autobiography of a Thief. 
 Put Yourself in His Place. 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 The Wandering Heir. I A Simpleton. 
 A Woman-Hater. | Readiana. 
 Singleheart and Doubleface. 
 The Jilt. [mals. 
 
 Good Stories of Men and other Ani- 
 
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 Her Mother's Darling. 
 Prince of Wales's Garden-Party. 
 Weird Stories. 
 
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 Women are Strange. 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
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 Bound to the Wheel. 
 Guy Waterman. | Two Dreamers. 
 One Against the World. 
 The Lion In the Path. 
 BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 Joan Merryweather. 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 Gideon's Rock. I Heart Salvage. 
 The High Mills. I Sebastian. 
 
 PICCADILLY NOVELS, continued 
 
 BY T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. 
 
 BY R. A. STERN DALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 BY BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Proud Maisie. | Cressida. 
 The Violin-Player. 
 
 BY ANTHONY TROLLOPS. 
 The Way we Live Now. 
 The American Senator 
 Frau Frohmann. | Marlon Fay. 
 Kept In the Dark. 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 
 BY FRANCES E. TROLLOPS. 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Anne Furness. 
 Mabel's Progress. 
 
 BY T. A. TROLLOPS. 
 Diamond Cut Diamond 
 By IVAN TURGENIEFF and Others. 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists. 
 
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 What She Came Through. 
 The Bride's Pass. 
 Saint Mungo's City. 
 
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 Mistress Judith. 
 
 BY J. S. WINTER. 
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 Regimental Legends. 
 
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 BY EDMOND ABOUT. 
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 Carr of Carrlyon. | Confidences 
 
 BY MRS. ALEXANDER. 
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 Valerie's Fate. 
 
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 Grantley Grange. 
 BY W. BBS A NT & JAMES RICE 
 Ready-Money Mortlboy. 
 With Harp and Crown. 
 This Son of Vulcan. | My Little Girl. 
 The Case of Mr. Lucraft. 
 The Golden Butterfly. 
 By Cella's Arbour, 
 The Monks of Tholema. 
 
 BY BESANT AND RICE, continued 
 'Twas in Trafalgar's Bay. 
 The Seamy Side. 
 The Ten Years' Tenant. 
 The Chaplain of the Fleet. 
 
 BY WALTER BESANT. 
 All Sorts and Conditions of Men. 
 The Captains' Room. 
 All In a Garden Fair. 
 
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 Chronicles of No-man's Land. 
 
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 An Heiress of Red Dog. 
 The Luck of Roaring Camp. 
 Callfornlan Stories. 
 Gabriel Conrey | Flip.
 
 CHEAP POPULAR NOVELS, continued 
 BY ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 
 of 
 
 TheMartyrdomof 
 
 Madeline. 
 Annan Water. 
 The New Abelard. 
 
 The Shadow 
 the Sword. 
 A Child of Nature. 
 God and the Man. 
 Love Me for Ever. 
 
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 Surly Tim. 
 
 BY MRS. LOVETT CAMERON. 
 Deceivers Ever. | Juliet's Guardian. 
 
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 The Cure of Souls. 
 
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 The Bar Sinister. 
 
 BY WILKIE COLLINS. 
 
 Antonina. 
 
 Basil. 
 
 Hide and Seek. 
 
 The Dead Secret. 
 
 Queen of Hearts. 
 
 My Miscellanies. 
 
 Woman In White. 
 
 The Moonstone. 
 Man and Wife. 
 Poor Miss Finch. 
 Miss or Mrs.? 
 
 BY MORTIMER COLLINS. 
 
 The New Magda- 
 len. 
 
 The Frozen Deep. 
 Law and the Lady. 
 TheTwo Destinies 
 Haunted Hotel. 
 The Fallen Leaves. 
 
 Jezebel'sDaughter 
 The Black Robe. 
 Heart and Science 
 
 Sweet Anne Page. 
 Transmigration. 
 
 From Midnight to 
 Midnight. 
 
 A Fight with Fortune. 
 MORTIMER & FRANCES COLLINS. 
 Sweet and Twenty. | Frances. 
 Blacksmith and Scholar. 
 The Village Comedy. 
 You Play me False. 
 
 B7 DUTTON COOK. 
 Leo. | Paul Foster's Daughter. 
 
 By WILLIAM CYPLES. 
 Hearts of Gold. 
 
 By ALPIIONSE DAUDET. 
 The Evangelist; or, Port Salvation. 
 
 BY DE MILLE. 
 A Castle In Spain. 
 
 By J. LEITH DERWENT. 
 
 Our Lady of Tears. | Circe's Lovers. 
 
 By CHARLES DICKERS. 
 
 Sketches by Boz. 
 Pickwick Papers. 
 
 Oliver Twist. 
 Nicholas tyckleby 
 
 By MRS. ANNIE EDWAtiDES. 
 A Point of Honour. | Archie Lovcll. 
 
 By M. BETHAM-EDWARDS. 
 Felicia. | Kitty. 
 
 By EDWARD EGGLESTON. 
 Roxy, 
 
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 By PERCY FITZGERALD. 
 Bella Donna. | Never Forgotten 
 The Second Mrs. Tlllotson. 
 Polly. 
 
 Seventy five Brooke Street. 
 The Lady of Brantome. 
 By ALBANY DE FONBLANQUE. 
 Filthy Lucre. 
 
 By R. E. FRANCILLON. 
 Olympla. I Queen Cophetua 
 
 One by One. I A Real Queen. 
 Prefaced by Sir H. BARTLE FRERE. 
 Pandurang Harl. 
 
 By HAIN FRISWELL. 
 One of Two. 
 
 By EDWARD GARRETT 
 The Capel Girls. 
 
 By CHARLES GIBBON. 
 Robin Gray. 
 For Lack of Gold. 
 
 What will the 
 
 World Say? 
 In Honour Bound. 
 The Dead Heart. 
 In Love and War. 
 For the King. 
 In Pastures Green 
 
 Queen of the Mea- 
 dow. 
 
 The Flower of the 
 
 Forest. 
 
 A Heart's Problem 
 The Braes of Yar- 
 row. 
 
 The Golden Shaft. 
 Of High Degree. 
 
 By WILLIAM GILBERT. 
 Dr. Austin's Guests. 
 The Wizard of the Mountain. 
 James Duke. 
 
 By JAMES GREENWOOD. 
 Dick Temple. 
 
 By ANDREW HALLIDAY. 
 Every-Day Papers. 
 By LADY DUFFUS HARDY. 
 Paul Wynter's Sacrifice. 
 
 By THOMAS HARDY. 
 Under the Greenwood Tree. 
 
 BY JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
 Garth. I Sebastian Strome 
 
 Ellice Quentln. | Dust. 
 Prince Saronl's Wife. 
 Fortune's Fool. 
 Beatrix Randolph. 
 
 By SIR ARTHUR HELPS. 
 Ivan de Biron. 
 
 By TOM HOOD. 
 A Golden Heart. 
 
 By MRS. GEORGE HOOPER. 
 The House of Raby. 
 
 By VICTOR HUGO. 
 The Hunchback of Notre Dniria
 
 CHEAP POPULAR NOVELS, continued 
 
 BY MRS. ALFRED HUNT. 
 Thorn Icroft's Model. 
 The Leaden Casket. 
 SelfCondemned. 
 
 BY JEAN INGELOW. 
 Fated to be Free. 
 
 BY HARRIETT JAY. 
 The Dark Colleen. 
 The Queen of Connaught. 
 
 BY HENRY KINGSLEY. 
 Oakshott Castle. | Number Seventeen 
 
 BY E. LYNN LINTON. 
 Patricia Kemball. 
 The Atonement of Learn Dundas. 
 The World Well Lost. 
 Under which Lord ? 
 With a Silken Thread. 
 The Rebel of the Family. 
 "My Love!" | lone. 
 
 BY HENF.Y W. LUCY. 
 Gideon Fleyce. 
 
 BY JUSTIN MCCARTHY, M.P. 
 
 Dear LadyDisdain Llnley Rochford. 
 The Waterdale MIssMisanthrope 
 
 Neighbours. Donna Quixote. 
 
 My Enemy's The Comet of a 
 
 Daughter. Season. 
 A Fair Saxon. Maid of Athens. 
 
 BY GEORGE MAC DONALD. 
 Paul Faber, Surgeon. 
 Thomas Wingfold, Curate. 
 
 BY MRS. MACDONELL. 
 Quaker Cousins. 
 
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 The Evil Eye. | Lost Rose. 
 
 BY W. H. MALLOCK. 
 The New Republic. 
 
 BY FLORENCE MARRYAT. 
 
 A Little Stepson. 
 Fighting the Air. 
 Written in Fire. 
 
 Open! Sesame! 
 A Harvest of Wild 
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 Half-a-dozen Daughters. 
 
 BY JEAN MIDDLEMASS. 
 Touch and Go. | Mr. Dorilllon. 
 BY D. CHRISTIE MURRAY. 
 
 ALIfe'sAtonement 
 A Model Father. 
 Joseph's Coat. 
 Coals of Fire. 
 
 By the Gate of the 
 Sea. 
 
 Val Strange. 
 Hearts. 
 
 BY MRS. OLIPHANT. 
 Whiteladics. 
 
 CHEAP POPULAR NOVELS, continued 
 BY MRS. ROBERT O'REILLY. 
 Phoebe's Fortunes. 
 
 BY OUIDA. 
 
 Held In Bondage. 
 
 Strath more. 
 
 Chandos. 
 
 Under Two Flags. 
 
 Iclalia. 
 
 Cecil Cast I e- 
 
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 Trlcotrln. 
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 Moths. 
 
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 Pascarel. Wanda. 
 
 Signa. Frescoes. 
 
 BY MARGARET AGNES PAUL. 
 Gentle and Simple. 
 
 BY JAMES PAYN. 
 
 Lost Sir Massing 
 herd. 
 
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 sure. 
 
 Bentlnck's Tutor. 
 
 Murphy's Master. 
 
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 Best of Husbands 
 
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 Married Beneath 
 
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 BY EDGAR A. POE. 
 The Mystery of Marie Roget. 
 
 BY E. C. PRICE. 
 Valentlna. 
 The Foreigners. 
 Mrs. Lancaster's Rival. 
 
 BY CHARLES READE. 
 It Is Never Too Late to Mend 
 Hard Cash. 
 Peg Wofflngton. 
 Christie Johnstone.
 
 BOOKS PUBLISHED BV CtiATTO <S- WlXDUS. 
 
 CHEAP POPULAR NOVELS, continued 
 By CHARLES READS, continued. 
 
 Griffith Gaunt. 
 
 Put Yourself in His Place. 
 
 The Double Marriage. 
 
 Love Me Little, Love Me Long. 
 
 Foul Play. 
 
 The Cloister and the Hearth. 
 
 The Course of True Love. 
 
 Autobiography of a Thief. 
 
 A Terrible Temptation. 
 
 The Wandering Heir. 
 
 A Simpleton. 
 
 A Woman-Hater. 
 
 Readlana. 
 
 Singleheart and Doubleface. 
 
 Good Stories of Men and other 
 Animals. 
 
 The Jilt. 
 
 By MRS. J. H. RIDDELL. 
 
 Her Mother's Darling. 
 
 Prince of Wales's Garden Party. 
 
 Weird Stories. 
 
 The Uninhabited House. 
 
 Fairy Water. 
 
 BV F. W. ROBINSON. 
 
 Women are Strange. 
 
 The Hands of Justice. 
 
 (BY W. CLARK RUSSELL. 
 
 Round the Galley Fire. 
 
 BY BAYLE ST. JOHN. 
 
 A Levantine Family. 
 
 BY GEORGE AUGUSTUS SALA. 
 
 Gaslight and Daylight. 
 
 BY JOHN SAUNDERS. 
 
 Bound to the Wheel. 
 
 One Against the World. 
 
 Guy Waterman. 
 
 The Lion in the Path. 
 
 Two Dreamers. 
 
 BY KATHARINE SAUNDERS. 
 Joan Merryweather. 
 Margaret and Elizabeth. 
 Gideon's Rock. 
 The High Mills. 
 
 BY ARTHUR SKETCHLEY. 
 A Match in the Dark. 
 
 BY T. W. SPEIGHT. 
 The Mysteries of Heron Dyke. 
 
 BY R. A. STERNDALE. 
 The Afghan Knife. 
 
 BY R. LOUIS STEVENSON. 
 New Arabian Nights. 
 
 BY BERTHA THOMAS. 
 Crcssida. j Proud Maisle. 
 
 The Violin Player. 
 
 BY W. MOY THOMAS. 
 A Fight for Life. /j 
 
 BY WALTER THORNBURY. 
 Tales for the Marines. 
 
 CHEAP POPULAR NOVELS, continued 
 BY T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPS. 
 Diamond Cut Diamond. 
 
 BY ANTHONY TKOLLOPE. 
 The Way We Live Now. 
 The American Senator. 
 Frau Frohmann. 
 Marlon Fay. 
 Kept In the Dark. 
 Mr. Scarborough's Family. 
 The Land-Leaguers. 
 The Golden Lion of Granpere. 
 John Caldigate. 
 
 By FRANCES ELEANORTROLLOPB 
 Like Ships upon the Sea. 
 Anne Furness. 
 Mabel's Progress. 
 
 B7 IVAN TURGENIEFF, &c. 
 Stories from Foreign Novelists.'! 
 
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 Tom Sawyer. 
 An Idle Excursion. 
 A Pleasure Trip on the Continent 
 
 of Europe. 
 A Tramp Abroad. 
 The Stolen White Elephant. 
 
 By C. C. FRASER-TYTLER. 
 Mistress Judith. 
 
 By SARAH TYTLER. 
 What She Came Through. 
 The Bride's Pass. 
 
 By J. S. WINTER. 
 Cavalry Life. | Regimental Legends. 
 
 By LADY WOOD. 
 Sablna. 
 
 By EDMUND YATES. 
 Castaway. | The Forlorn Hope. 
 Land at Last. 
 
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 Paul Ferroll. 
 Why Paul Ferroll Killed his Wife. 
 
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 Kathleen Mavourneen. By Author 
 
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 Lindsay's Luck. By the Author of 
 
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 The Garden that Paid the Rent. 
 
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