Chapter II: Part 2

"Beautiful indeed!" echoed Stuart, as the tall and portly duke, attired in an old-fashioned dress, with his broad beaver under his left arm, and, encased in a white glove, the little hand of Donna Olivia drooping on his right, entered the dancing-rooms, followed by Lisle leading Donna Virginia. Both the sisters were tall, and of queen-like figures. Their dresses of white satin were richly trimmed with fine lace, and lofty ostrich-feathers nodded above their glossy ringlets, amid which many a diamond and other gem sparkled and blazed when they moved. Long white Spanish veils, descending from the head, hung down behind them, giving to their figures still greater grace and dignity.

"They are lovely creatures!" said Macdonald. "But Virginia moves like an empress among all the plumed and jewelled beauties around her."

"What a thrice enviable sub is Master Louis, to be their cavalier! All eyes are turned upon them."

"And a knight of Alcantara, yonder, leaning against the mantel-piece, seems to eye Lisle with a very unfriendly look. In truth, Donna Olivia appears like some being of another world. Her features are Grecian rather than Spanish; and her eyes--by Jove! they are brighter than diamonds, and flash like lightning when she smiles.

"You seem quite enraptured with her."

"I am a connoisseur; but fair as she is, there is one bonnie lass in the Western Isles, who to me seems fairer still. Olivia is a bold and beautiful girl, but there is something softer, yet not less pleasing, in the hazel eyes of Virginia."

"Virginia! By heavens, I should know her face! Where can I have seen it before?"

"Hush! they are moving this way, smiling and coquetting as if they meant to be the death of us all."

"Faith! Alister, I hope Lisle will have the charity to introduce us."

"Tush! A Spanish officer has carried off Olivia. He has engaged her for the next dance. He is bowing to you, Stuart."

Ronald's eyes at that moment encountered those of the Conde de Truxillo. Both bowed, and the conde placing his arm around Olivia, wheeled her into the circle of the waltzers, where they were seen only for a moment now and then. Fassifern led away the duke to one of the refreshment-tables in the garden; while Lisle, followed by the sharp eyes of many a jealous cavalier, advanced towards Stuart and Macdonald, with Virginia leaning on his arm.

"I wish one of you would find a partner," said he; "we want a _vis-a-vis_ for the next quadrille."

"With pleasure."

"I am engaged to dance with Donna Isabel de Campo," said Alister; "but pray introduce me, Louis."

"And me," added Ronald. "A most lucky dog you are!" These observations passed in English; but the formal introduction was gone through in choice Castilian. "I have surely had the happiness of seeing Donna Virginia before," said Ronald. "It is impossible I could ever forget."

"Holy Mother! _Senor Officiale_," exclaimed the young lady with an air of pretty surprise, as she raised her fine eye-brows; "is it possible that you recognise me, arrayed as I now am in a garb so different from that which I wore in the convent of Santa Cruz?"

"Do I behold the Madre Santa Martha of Jarciejo in Donna Virginia? What riddle is this, senora?"

"A strange one truly, senor, and a very agreeable transformation," replied the lady, blushing and smiling as she glanced at her figure, which was fully reflected in an opposite mirror.

"What is all this?" asked Lisle in surprise. "Then you are acquainted with each other, it seems?"

"O yes, Don Louis; quite old friends indeed," replied the lady, with a vivacity which piqued Don Louis a little. "We met on a sad occasion--a very sad one, truly,--of which I will give you the history when we are at leisure. 'Tis quite a romance, and Cervantes of Esquivas,[*] or Juan de Valencia,[**] have never written any thing like it."

[*] Cervantes is said to have been born at Esquivas, near Toledo.

[**] Author of _El Patranuelo_, and other old-fashioned works.

"Allow me to lead you, Donna Virginia; the dancers are arranging themselves. Had we not better take our places?"

"Certainly, senor; but our _vis-a-vis_, remember. Shall I introduce your friend to the Condessa Estremera.--she waltzes beautifully."

"The Condessa is engaged; she appears resolved to make quite a conquest of Bevan of ours."

"Are we to look all night for a _vis-a-vis_? Oh! here comes my sister Olivia; she is beautiful enough to make him die of love, and I shall introduce him, if it was only to make Truxillo jealous."

Truxillo regarded Stuart with no pleasant eye as he carried off his donna. However, he endeavoured to dissemble, and said with a smile, "I congratulate you, senor, on obtaining the highest order of knighthood that a Spanish king can confer. You will find it easy work to protect the pilgrims who visit Compostella from the insults of the Moors in the nineteenth century. I am myself a commander of the order," he added, displaying a richer cross, around which was the motto,--_Sanguine Arabum_.

"I am again to be the rival of this fiery conde. I am always in some confounded scrape," thought Ronald, as he led his partner to her place.

"_Santa Anna_, senor! these rooms are suffocating," said the lady.

"As soon as the dance is ended, permit me to have the honour of leading you to the garden."

"Pray relieve me of my scarf." The thin gauze screen was transferred from the white shoulders of Olivia to Ronald's arm.

"See, senor,--the Condessa; how well she is looking. Ah! had she only worn her tiara on her black curls, she would have been matchless."

"Impossible, while Donna Olivia is present."

"Look at that officer of Villamur's regiment,--a handsome cavalier; he bows. How do you do, Pedro? What can that old knight of Calatrava be whispering to the rich widow of the Calle Mayor. Ah, I would give the world to know! How they smile at each other. Love must be very agreeable. _Santos_! I have dropped my fan. Quick, senor; pick it up, before the feet of the dancers---- A thousand thanks," she added, as Ronald restored it to her. "I would not have it destroyed for the universe,--'tis a present from Don Carlos Avallo: he, too, is looking this way. How d'ye do, Carlos?" and thus did Olivia run on during all the intervals between the figures of the dance.

No sooner was the quadrille over, than the galopade was proposed.

"_Viva la galopade!_ cavaliers," cried Cameron, striking his hands together. Lisle still kept Virginia, and Ronald her gay sister, and all the cavaliers of Old and New Castile grew hot with indignation and jealousy. Away flew the dancers to the crash of music from the orchestra. The scene was indeed glorious. A hundred couples went round hand in hand, plumes waving, ear-rings trembling, jewels and epaulets, stars and medals flashing and glittering, spurs and poniards clanking, the light feet and muslin drapery of the graceful Spanish girls flying about and mingling with the buckled shoes and dark green tartans of the Highlanders. Bravo! It was beautiful.

The dance was over, and the ladies, breathless and overcome, with bosoms panting, cheeks blushing, and eyes sparkling, clung to the arms of their cavaliers, who led them through the open casements to promenade in the cool gardens, where the female waiters, little sylph-like girls about twelve or fifteen years old, clad in white, with their black curls streaming about, glided through the illuminated arbours and walks, handing ices to the ladies, and cool and sparkling champagne or Malaga to the gentlemen. When promenading with Olivia through one of the beautiful walks, from each side of which he was constantly culling fresh flowers for her bouquet, Ronald heard familiar voices conversing in an orange-bower, the interior of which was brilliantly illuminated with parti-coloured lamps.

"Yes, sir; we turned their flank, and fell upon them with the bayonet, and with God's help cut to pieces every mother's son of them in five minutes," said Campbell within the bower, striking his heavy hand emphatically on the seat; adding afterwards in another tone, "Most excellent champagne this, Don Ascasibur, and much obliged we are to the ex-king of Spain for leaving it here to be drunk by better men."

"_Satanas_ take the ex-king!" replied Ynuerritegui. "And so it was as you tell, that this very noble old cavalier was slain?"

"Ay, sir; the shot struck him _here_, and he fell sword in hand from his saddle. A gallant fellow was Sir Ralph, and under his command I was initiated into all the sublime mysteries of soldiery."

"Campbell has been fighting Egypt over again to my _patron_," thought Stuart. "Major," said he, looking in, "how can you and Don Ascasibur be so ungallant as to forsake the ladies for champagne flasks? Fie upon you! senores."

"The ladies will not break their hearts: such a fright old Ynuerritegui is!" whispered Olivia behind her fan.

"Campbell, do you mean to sit here all night?" said Chisholm, looking in on the other side as he passed with a lady. "They are arranging themselves for the galope again."

"It is fit only for subs," replied the major testily. "The idea of a field-officer galloping any way but on horseback!"

"It seems quite the rage here at Aranjuez," said Stuart, as Chisholm moved off. "But then the girls here galope so beautifully, they are in the right to have it so. So, major, you do not mean to join the dancers to-night?"

"Yes," answered the other, shaking the flasks, which all proved empty; "but neither at waltz, quadrille, or galope. I have no idea of flying round a room at the rate of ten miles an hour, in mortal terror the while of crushing the ladies dear little feet and white satin shoes with my heavy brogues. Besides, the dance is too intricate for me--'chassez to the right and left, turn your partner, balancez, turn again, galopade a la chassez to places!' Pooh! I would rather dance Tullochgorm or the _Ruighle Thulaichean_, or any other decent fling; but I have no love for your Spanish dances and galopade quadrilles. They ill become the _sporran_ and _breacan-anfeile_ of the Highlandman, and are no more to be compared to a strathspey than a Toledo is to a real-fluted Andrea Ferrara." The major snapt his fingers, and chanted with a loud voice a verse of the Grant's reel:

"There needs na be sae great a phrase,
Wi' dringing dull Italian lays,
I wadna gie our ain strathspeys
For half a hundred score o' em.

They're douff an' dowie at the best,
Douff and dowie, douff and dowie,
They're douff an' dowie at the best,
Wi 'a' their variorum.

They're douff and dowie at the best,
Their allegros and a' the rest,
They canna please a Highland taste,
Compared wi' Tullochgorm."

Stuart was leading away Donna Olivia, who laughed excessively at the major's song, which sounded wondrously uncouth to her ears, when Campbell called to him. "I say, Stuart," said he, "I am going to show the ladies here a new fling. I have sent for Ranald Dhu and the six pipers. Fassifern, Ronald Macdonuil, and myself, are about to perform the sword dance. We astonished old Mohammed Djedda with it in Egypt. You must join us."

"I should be most happy, but I am the honoured cavalier of one of the prettiest girls in Aranjuez, and it is impossible I can join you; but we will witness it in the hall."

A few minutes afterwards the pipers arrived, and preparations were made for the Highland dance. Claymores were taken from the wall, and laid across each other on the floor. The colonel, Campbell, and two other officers took their places, while seven pipers stood at the end of the hall, and on a given signal struck up an appropriate air.

"_Santa Maria!_" screamed the senoras, and "_Morte de Dios!_" growled the senores, while they covered their ears with their hands to protect them from "so dangerous an invasion." Many an English and Irish officer did so likewise, for the sound of the pipes in the vaulted hall was tremendous. Away went the dancers to the sound of the first note, and continued to leap, skip, and "hooch and hoo!" while they flung about with true Scottish spirit and agility, moving with miraculous precision among the bare blades of the claymores, while applauses loud and long rewarded them. 'Twas a new sight indeed to the Spaniards, and the eyes of every Scotsman present lighted up with enthusiasm, although many of them had never witnessed the martial dance before. Long after the others had resumed their seats, the gigantic Campbell, strong, active, and filled with perfect delight, continued to dance, wave his arms and the folds of his enormous kilt and plaid, until at last compelled to sink into a seat, amid loud huzzas and astounding vivas.

Quadrilles, galopades, and waltzes again followed, and before the ball broke up the light of the morning sun had replaced the illuminations of the palace and its gardens. Then came the gallant farewells, and shawls, mantillas, and furred shoes were in requisition, the gentlemen making themselves as busy as possible in wrapping up the ladies to protect them from the chill morning air; and then, muffling themselves in their cloaks, many an officer and cavalier strode away behind the lumbering carriage or sedan, which conveyed to her home some lady to whom they had been particularly attentive during the night, and whom, as in duty bound, they wished to squire to the door of her own residence,--the streets of continental cities not being very safe at these hours, when _picaros_ and _valientes_[*] of every kind are on the watch, to exercise their talents on the unsuspecting or unprotected.

[*] Rogues and ruffians, or bravos.

On the following evening a grand bull-fight was to be held in the marble square, for the entertainment of the British. The splendid mansion of the Duke of Alba de T---- formed nearly a whole side of this elegant Plaza, and from its windows an excellent view could be obtained. The Conde de Truxillo, Fassifern, Seaton, Lisle, and Stuart, and many other officers, dined with the duke that day. The ladies were all smiles and beauty, although a little pale with the fatigues of the preceding evening; but Olivia, and her cousin the bright-eyed condessa, were as gay and vivacious as ever. The dinner, which consisted of a variety of stews, cutlets, and light confectionary, began by a course of fruit, just as ours ends. Afterwards came chocolate, and cigars for those gentlemen who chose to lounge on the balconies, and plenty of flirting, waltzing, singing and music at the piano and guitar, for those who remained with the ladies.

During the whole day preparations had been making for the approaching display. All the streets leading to the Plaza were strongly barricadoed with bullock-cars, mule-carts, and every thing that could serve to enclose the arena, and prevent the escape of the bulls.

Four of them were imprisoned in a den at one end of the square, where they were undergoing a process of torture, being goaded by steel pikes through holes in the roof, to rouse them to the requisite pitch of madness and ferocity. It was a beautiful sunny evening, and about four o'clock the people began to collect; at six the Plaza was crowded to excess,--the balconies, roofs, and windows were all taken possession of, and hundreds of pennons, streamers, and garlands flaunted from the houses; while the bands of the 28th and the 6th Portuguese cacadores filled the air with strains of music, and delight shone in every Spanish eye at the amusement promised by their favourite national pastime.

The guests of the duke occupied the large balcony, which extended along the front of his house. It was covered with a piece of tapestry, and the ladies were seated in front, while their cavaliers stood behind. Here Stuart missed the conde, who had been by Donna Olivia's side all day. He was about to inquire for him, when Balthazzar suddenly appeared in the arena, arrayed in a very singular garb. A small velvet cap was on his head, fully displaying his short curly hair and fine features. He wore a close-fitting doublet of black cloth, slashed with white; a mantle of a bright orange colour hung on his left arm, and in his right hand he carried a short pike about five feet long, the head of which was of sharp and bright steel. Three other cavaliers, similarly accoutered, made their appearance in the arena, and the people raised a cry of "_Viva Baltazar, el valiente soldado! Viva el gracios caballero Ascasibur Ynuerritegui_! Here are the bulls! Here are the bulls!"

Balthazzar kissed his hand to Donna Olivia, who threw him a flower from her breast, and he placed it in his cap.

"Beware, my poor conde," said she, "and be not over rash. Remember that your foes are bulls from the Xamara."

"Are they different from any other bulls, Donna Virginia?" asked Louis.

"Oh! have you not heard? They are the very fiercest in Spain,--perhaps in the world. When once aroused, nothing tames them but being slain."

"And to these the conde is about to oppose himself. Are you not concerned for his safety, senoras?"

"Balthazzar has a sharp pike and a sure heel," answered Olivia, fanning herself, "and I have no fears for him."

"Have you ever seen any one killed in the arena?"

"Yes. A bull of Xamara tossed our poor cousin, the Conde Estremera, into the air, and he came down dead."

"And still you like this sport?" said Cameron, "sport which our Scottish ladies would shudder to look upon."

"Yes, senor. _O viva Santissima!_" answered all the ladies at once, clapping their white hands, "here come the bulls!"

A shout of delight from the multitude shook the Plaza. A sort of portcullis had been raised, and forth from his den rushed a bull into the arena, his eyes darting fire, with nostrils elated, and mouth covered with foam, the hair of his neck bristling up like the mane of a lion, and every muscle quivering with the torture he had undergone. He rolled his red eyes about, as if to select a convenient object to attack. The conde waved his orange mantle across the face of the bull, which, uttering a roar, plunged forward upon him. Closely pursued by his formidable adversary, Truxillo ran round the arena. This was the most dangerous part of the game, as a fall, or the least false step, would be certain death. At the moment when the bull was preparing for a grand plunge "with hoof and horn," the conde sprung over a barrier, dropping his mantle as he did so. It was instantly transfixed and tossed into the air by the bull, which was now attacked in the rear by Don Ascasibur, who carried a red mantle and a pike, which he plunged into the brawny flank of the victim. With a roar of fury and agony the beast thundered over the marble pavement after his assailant, but was diverted from the pursuit, being pierced by the pikes of a third and fourth cavalier, who kept him galloping round the arena in every direction, dropping their mantles and leaping the barriers whenever the danger became too pressing, until he sunk exhausted and bloody at the base of the statue of Charles the Fifth, where the conde put an end to its agony by plunging his pike repeatedly into its body. Three others were slain in the same manner, and all the performers had narrow escapes for their lives at different times. The four bulls were sent away to the kitchen of the _Casa de los locos_[*] for the benefit of the patients and the poor people of the town. Extraordinary agility, skill, and courage were displayed by the four cavaliers in this daring Spanish game, which, though not less cruel, had in it, by the personal risk incurred, something infinitely nobler and more chivalric than the brutal custom of bull-baiting, which so long disgraced South Britain.

[*] Asylum for the insane.

In the course of an hour all the bulls had fallen in succession, and yielded the palm to their four tormentors, who were greeted with enthusiastic applause by the multitude, on whose shoulders they were lifted up, and carried by force triumphantly round the square.

When this display was over, the conde resumed the brown uniform and silver epaulets of the 4th Spanish infantry, and rejoined the duke's guests in the balcony, from which they were beholding other feats of dexterity. A tall and powerful Spaniard, Gaspar Alozegui, the strongest and most athletic man in the two Castiles, entered the arena, bearing a large cannon-shot, and a sledge-hammer. He waved his broad hat to the populace, who cheered their favourite, as no man yet had ever rivalled him in feats of strength and agility. Taking up the cannon-shot, the weight of which I have forgotten, he poised it for a moment in his hand, and then tossing it from him, sent it whizzing along the pavement, as a bowler does a cricket ball, from one end of the Plaza to the other, where it rebounded against the wall of a house and lay still. Alozegui arrogantly challenged any man among the thousands there assembled to throw it within ten feet of the spot where it then lay, offering in that case to forfeit a purse of ten _onzas_ presented to the victor by the fair _patronas_ of the day,--the daughters of the Duke of Alba de T----. Alozegui looked around him triumphantly; but no man answered the challenge, which was not delivered in very moderate language, and he now grasped the shaft of his ponderous hammer. Swinging it thrice round his head, he hurled it from his hand with the speed of a thunderbolt. The crowd for a moment held their breath, and the gaze of their eyes followed the semicircle which it described through the air. It alighted close by the shot, and again the cheers of the people broke forth; after which Gaspar repeated his challenge in the same arrogant terms.

"Such an insolent dog as this Alozegui deserves to be beaten," said the conde.

"He has thrown well," observed Stuart, as he leant over the balcony; "yet the sport loses its zest when there is no competitor."

"_Viva_, Alozegui," said Donna Olivia. "He deserves to kiss my hand, and should but for his bushy black beard."

"I am convinced that my servant, Dugald Mhor, old as he is, will throw these matters further," said Fassifern, who was indignant at Alozegui's challenge, and burned with eagerness to see him beaten. He spoke in English, "I suppose Dugald is below among the servants. He followed me here. As sure as my name is John Cameron, he will beat Alozegui."

"Let some one inquire if he is below?"

"I say, colonel," cried Seaton, who was seated at the other end of the balcony, with his glass at his eye; "surely, Campbell of ours is about to answer the challenge of the Spaniard. He has entered the arena."

"Now, by heavens! well done Colin, and Dugald Mhor too,--honest old Dugald! Look to yourself, Micer Alozegui; you will scarcely hold the prize against two such men," said Cameron in great glee. "Major, are you about to contend with this impudent loon?"

"We are indeed," replied Campbell, "and hard work the braggadocio will have to beat us. Dugald and I are comrades to-day, and mean to show these dons the mettle of Highlandmen, and what sort of muscle brose and brochan can produce. I have hurled a stone three times the size of that shot from Craigfianteach into Lochawe, and mean to strain every nerve to give the dons a surprise. I thought it a shame that so many British men should stand by quietly, and let a Spaniard boast thus. Throwing the hammer is a national amusement, and I hope that neither don or devil will beat a Scotsman at it. After we have conquered Senor Alozegui, Dugald and I will challenge the whole crowd to a game at quoits or shinty, whichever they like best."

Alozegui, on understanding that they had answered the challenges, laid the shot and hammer before them, carefully marking the places where they lay; a needless precaution, as he very soon learned.

"Dugald Cameron, my man, take you the shot," said the major, "and let them see that you are 'steel to the bane.' Ye showed true mettle the day Alexandria was fought, and can do so here, lyart though your pow may be. I will take the fore hammer, and now, my lads! here are two decent Highlandmen against all the bearded braggarts on this side of the Pyrenees."

"I am auld enough to be his gutcher twice ower and mair, as my siller haffets and runkled cheeks may tell you; but I will never shrink frae the task when a Hieland gentleman like your honour commands me," said Dugald, as he cast down his bonnet, sword, and plaid; and taking up the ball as if it had been a walnut, without once looking at it, threw it over the houses at the end of the square by a single swing of his arm.

"The Cameron for ever! Well done, Dugald!" exclaimed the major. "A foot lower and the Emperor had lost his head, which would have spoiled all the sport."

Dugald laughed, stroked down his white hairs, and casting his plaid around him, withdrew under the balcony where the delighted Fassifern was standing. He received a cheer, though not a very cordial one, from the people; and Alozegui bestowed upon him a most formidable scowl of rage and hatred, to which he replied by a laugh, and a direction to "gie the gowd he had tint to the puirfolk." Now came the major's turn, and the Spaniard began to tremble for his fame. The former, after examining the ponderous hammer to assure himself that the handle was firmly fixed into it, swung it once around his head, and straining every muscle to conquer, cast it from his hand with a force and swiftness truly amazing. Describing a complete arch over the spacious Plaza, it whirled through the air, and passing over the houses of an adjacent street, lighted among the reeds on the banks of the Tagus, where it was discovered next day. However, it could not be found for that night, and the only reward Campbell received from the Spaniards for his prowess, was the half-muttered ejaculation of astonishment at the flight taken by the missile. The dons were very angry at their hero being beaten by a foreigner and heretic, and so astonished at his wonderful strength, that they readily adopted the opinion of some old Capuchine padres, "that he had been assisted by the devil."

"Hoich, major! weel dune," shouted old Dugald, waving his bonnet. "Fair play a' the warld ower,--_Cothram na feine_,[*] as we say at hame in Lochiel. Ferntosh and barley-bannock are the stuff to mak' men o'; no accadenty and snail-broth,--deevil tak' them baith!"

[*] The equal battle of the Fingalians,--a Highland proverb.

"Long life to you, major!" cried many of the Highlanders; and hundreds of soldiers belonging to the 66th, 34th, and other corps of the division huzzaed him loudly. On receiving from the duke's _contador_ (steward) the purse of thirty _onzas_, Campbell, knowing that Dugald was too proud to touch a maravedi of the money placed it in the hands of Alozegui, telling him not to be cast down, as Dugald and himself had beaten better men than ever trod the realm of Spain. This taunt only stung more deeply the fiery and enraged Spaniard, who scorned to receive the purse, which he tossed among the people, and leaping over the barriers, disappeared. Campbell waved his hummel-bonnet (a plain cap without feathers) to the assembled multitude, and withdrew to finish the night over a pigskin with Don Ascasibur, and tell endless narratives about Egypt and Sir Ralph.

During that evening, from a thousand little circumstances which it is needless to rehearse, it was evident to Ronald that Louis Lisle was deeply enamoured of the beautiful Virginia; and that she was not unfavourable to him was also manifest, although she took every means to conceal it: but Ronald had a sharp eye for these matters. What the opinion of the proud old duke might be on such a subject it was not difficult to say; and his conscience would not in the least have prevented him from employing the poniard of some matador to rid his family of such a suitor. However, his mind was at that moment too much taken up with political schemes to permit him to observe the growing passion between his daughter and the young Scottish subaltern, to whom twenty days' residence in his palace had given every opportunity to press his suit that a lover could desire.

The party at the De T---- palace broke up about eleven o'clock, and ruminating on the probabilities of Louis's winning the donna, should he really propose for her hand, Ronald passed slowly through the marble square, and down a street leading towards his billet, which was near the Calle Mayor. A gush of light, streaming into the darkness through the open portal and traceried windows of an illuminated chapel, invited him to enter, in expectation of beholding some solemn religious ceremony; but the building was entirely empty, and the blaze of light proceeded from some hundreds of tapers burning around the gilded shrine of the patron saint of Aranjuez. From this spot a strong flood of crimson light glared through the nave and chancel, tinging with the hue of blood the black marble pavement, the slender pillars, and the groined roof of fretted stone work. Many mouldy portraits of saints adorned the walls; around the lighted shrine were hung certain strange memorials, placed there by the piety of those whom the saint was supposed to have cured. Crutches, even wooden legs and many stucco casts of deformed limbs, were there displayed, all doubtless the work of cunning priests, to impose upon the credulity of the Spaniards. But what chiefly raised his wonder, was some hundred little images of children, with which the place was absolutely crowded.

His attention was next attracted by several standards, the trophies of war, which hung from the highest part of the chapel, where the roof rose somewhat in the form of a dome. These belonged to various nations; and one, by the crescents on it, he judged to be Moorish; but the other two he remarked more particularly. The one was the ensign of a British ship of war which had been wrecked on the coast of Spain; the other was an ancient Scottish standard of white silk, crossed with St. Andrew's blue cross, and splendidly embroidered with silver thistles. About the latter he could not obtain the least information, although he made every inquiry next day. But it was probably the regimental colour of some of the Scottish auxiliaries who served in the Low Countries against the Emperor Charles the Fifth. Ronald was revolving in his own mind the means of capturing or destroying both these standards, when the entrance of the Conde de Truxillo diverted him from his purpose, and saved to the Spaniards those trophies which most likely still adorn the chapel royal of Aranjuez.

"What adventure are you in search of now, senor, that you have not yet sought your billet in the Calle Mayor?"

"I understand," replied the conde, "that the Carbineros of Medina del Campo marched into Aranjuez about sun-set. I have a very dear brother, an officer in them, and I am searching for some one to direct me to his quarters, late as the hour is. Manuel and I were very dear friends in youth, being educated together at our old castle near Truxillo; but we have not seen each other for six years, as our regiments have always campaigned in different provinces. He was a slender youth, without a hair on his lip when I saw him last, but now he must be a stout and well-whiskered cavalier. Ah, how much I long to behold him!"

"I regret, conde, that I can give you no information as to where the quarters of the Carbineros are. Some of the quarter-guards may perhaps inform you."

"Ho! senor Stuart," exclaimed Truxillo, as his eye fell on the shrine with all its little images and blazing tapers. "Lo, you now! behold what rogues our padres are. Do you know the meaning of all these images?"

"No. I own I was somewhat puzzled to discover."

"Well, senor," answered Truxillo with a loud laugh, "all these are the images of children born unto ladies who had long pined for them before they had visited this miraculous shrine,--so the monks tell us."

"Strange, if true."

"Its reputed sanctity is truly amazing; and all the dames of old and new Castile, Leon, and Arragon consider a visit to this place a sovereign remedy. They are shown the tomb of the saint in the vaults below; and its influence, aided by the attentions of a few stout padres, certainly has brought about singular cures; and---- But here comes my servant; he has been searching for the quarters of the Carbineros, and will---- Hah!" exclaimed Truxillo, his countenance changing as a servant belonging to the De T---- family entered the chapel, "do you seek me?"

The servant, who wore the orange-coloured livery of the duke, replied by whispering something into the ear of Don Balthazzar, whose "brow grew black as thunder."

"_Falsificador!_ madman! what is this you have dared to tell me?" he exclaimed, furiously grasping the menial by the throat.

"The solemn truth, most noble conde. Release me! San Juan in the wilderness could not speak more truly. I am faithful to you,--I am, by the virgin!--Oh--" It is probable the fellow would never have spoken again, had not Ronald released his neck from the clutch of the conde.

"Cavalier!" exclaimed the latter, seizing Ronald's hand, "I know you to be brave and honourable as man can be. I have been basely betrayed this night. Will you follow me, that I may recover my lost honour, or perish? A deadly insult has been offered to me."

"I pledge you my word I will, Balthazzar. But what has this trembling blockhead told you?"

"Satanas! that Donna Olivia, to whom not an hour ago I plighted my love and troth, has even now a cavalier in her chamber."

"Impossible; he lies!"

"He does not--I know that he does not. I have bribed him to watch his mistress, and have long found him faithful. But Olivia, false and base Olivia! I have long suspected her falsehood and coquetry, and this night I will fearfully revenge them both upon herself. It must be Carlos Avallo. Malediction! I will slay him before her face. By our Lady of the Rock! my most sacred oath, I swear it!"

Balthazzar rushed away from the chapel, and Stuart followed to prevent him, if possible, from committing any outrage, and pursued him through the dark streets at his utmost speed. In a few seconds they stood before the mansion they had quitted but a short time ago. It was completely involved in darkness, save one room, from the windows of which a light straggled through the white curtains upon the balcony from which they had witnessed the bull-fight.

"The sisters sleep in separate apartments; that is Olivia's," whispered Truxillo, in a voice husky with the passions which possessed his heart. "Did you not see a tall shadow pass the window?"

"Let me entreat you, noble conde, to stay--to hold but for a single moment!"

"_Carajo!_ may it be my last if I do!" replied the other fiercely, as he grasped a carved stone ornament projecting from the wall, and swung himself into the balcony, where he drew his sword, and applied his eye to the opening of the window curtains. Apprehensive that he might commit some rash deed, Ronald followed him, but with infinite trouble, rage having enabled the conde to climb by means which the other could not find. He was not without some secret fears that this rival cavalier might be Louis Lisle, and grasping Truxillo by the arm, he detained him by main force; and had the parties within been less occupied with themselves than they were, they must undoubtedly have heard the half-muttered threats of Balthazzar, and the scuffling which ensued on the balcony.

Through the half-opened casement they surveyed the chamber and its occupants. The sleeping-place of the donna was certainly a splendid one; the hangings, the chairs, the bed, and covering of the estrado, raised at one end of the floor, were all of white or rose-coloured velvet, fringed and embroidered with gold, and every thing else was of corresponding richness. A lamp, the globe of which was of rose-coloured glass, shed a warm light through the apartment; and three large vases of fresh flowers, placed on the verge of the _estrado_, gave forth an agreeable perfume. In a splendid easy-chair, which glittered with gilding and gilt nails, the beautiful Olivia was seated near her toilet-table,--the looseness of her dress and the disorder of her ringlets showing that she had been preparing for repose before her visitor had entered by the window, a place of ingress used oftener than the door by Spanish lovers. An officer in a Spanish cavalry uniform was kneeling at her feet, and his cloak and helmet lay on the floor near him.

"Lo! holy Virgin, a pretty piece of daring," said the lady as they approached the window.

"Pardon me, beautiful one!" said the officer; "and remember, that if I had not visited you thus, I might never have seen you at all."

"And what then, senor?"

"Cruel Olivia! can you trifle with a passion so earnest as mine?"

"A pretty fellow, to visit me like a bravo by the window, with a sword in your hand. This will teach me to bolt my shutters more securely. Come now, senor, I have heard quite enough of this: you must retire. _O santos!_ should you be seen!"

"Heartless Olivia! and you bid me leave you thus?"

"Heartless? You are mighty gallant, _mi amigo_!"

"Remember that we march to-morrow, and I may never see you again."

"Well, I suppose I shall not want for a husband. The Conde of Truxillo, Pedro de Esquivias, or Carlos Avallo will, any of them, be glad to have me when I choose. O 'tis a gay thing to be loved by many cavaliers! But leave me, I intreat--no, command you!" said the lady, curling up her black tresses with her white slender fingers.

"Grant me but a single kiss, Olivia, and I will retire never to trouble you again. I will seek death in our first encounter with the enemy."

"You love yourself too well for that."

"Grant me but one salute, and I leave you. Oh, after all the misery of my long year's absence, do not refuse me that!"

"Take it, thou false _picaro_, and be gone," replied the coquettish girl, pouting her cherry mouth, towards which the cavalier advanced his well-moustached lip.

"Perish first!" exclaimed the enraged Truxillo, rushing forward and driving his sword through the back and breast of the unfortunate lover. "Die in your audacity, whoever you are, you false interloper! Die, villain!" he added, repeating the stab; and the cavalier died without a groan. "Farewell for ever, false Olivia," cried the savage conde; "and remember that my love, unworthy as you are of it, alone protects you from the effects of my fury and disappointment!" He was about to leave the place, when his eye fell upon the countenance of the cavalier he had so ruthlessly and rashly slain. He was now lying stark and dead, the blood from his wounds streaming over the oaken floor of the room. Truxillo groaned deeply, and striking his forehead, staggered back, dropping his sword, while his countenance became pale and livid.

"_El Espiritu Santo santissimo! O Dios mio!_" he cried in a husky voice, the tone of which was heart-piercing and horrible, "I have slain my brother,--my brave brother! _O Manuel el Carbinero_,--is it you I have murdered? Ten thousand maledictions blast you, false woman! blast you, and follow you to all eternity! 'Tis you have wrought me this deadly sin!" And rushing into the balcony he sprung into the street, leaving Ronald in the apartment of the lady, standing irresolute and stupified with amazement at the suddenness of this catastrophe, which came to pass in less time than I have taken to record it. Olivia, whose voice had at first failed her in the extremity of her terror, now shrieked long and loudly to arouse the household, which she did so effectually, that in three minutes they were all mustered in her chamber, armed with all sorts of weapons, and among others Lisle with his drawn sword. Great indeed was their astonishment to see Ronald in the sleeping-room of Donna Olivia at midnight, and an officer lying dead on the floor, weltering in a pool of blood. All clamorously demanded an explanation of this singular scene, and the indignation of the old duke it is impossible to describe, such room was there for scandal in the story of a cavalier being slain at night in the bed-room of his daughter. _Diavolo!_ thought he, all Spain, from Cape Ortegal to Gibraltar, will be ringing with the tale! Some of the females attempted to recover the lady, who had sunk on her bed in a swoon; while the others required Ronald, in shrill tones of anger and surprise, to give a detail of the matter. This he hesitated to do, not wishing to criminate the conde, and still less wishing to be taken for the culprit himself.

In this dilemma the bustle and commotion were increased by the arrival of a pompous old alcalde, who dwelt opposite, and Senor Rubio, the notary, with six alguazils, who were for arresting Ronald on the instant; but, laying his hand on the hilt of his dirk, he vowed to run through the heart the first who laid a finger upon him; upon which the limbs of the law, recoiling, began to handle the locks of their heavy _trabucos_, and more blood would probably have been shed had not the alcalde interfered.

This magistrate, whose person and authority the duke had always treated with contempt, was very glad to have opportunity of affronting him; and assuming as much consequence as he could, he administered an oath to Ronald in the Spanish manner, by swearing him across his sword and dirk, and then desiring him to relate what he knew of this matter,--and word for word his relation was committed to writing by the keen-eyed and sharp-visaged little notary. Englishmen might have doubted the relation; but in Spain the words of an honourable cavalier are not to be questioned, and the account proving satisfactory to the alcalde, in so far as concerned Ronald Stuart, he was permitted to retire; while Senor Rubio, and the six men with blunderbusses, were sent off in pursuit of the conde, whom they discovered on his knees before the very shrine he had made the subject of his jests an hour before. Three days afterwards he was tried by a general court-martial, composed of Spanish officers,--the General de Costa being president. Every man supposed his death to be certain; but he was, strange to say, acquitted. Yet life was no boon to poor Truxillo, who, being continually haunted by the miserable death of his brother, became reckless of existence, and by throwing himself madly in the way of danger, endeavoured to perish in expiation of the crime he had committed in the blindness of his rage and jealousy.

This occurrence appeared for the present to be a death-blow to the hopes of Louis Lisle. On the following day the duke quitted Aranjuez with his family, retiring suddenly no one knew whither. He was so much enraged against Olivia, who indeed was not to blame, that he threatened to disgrace her for ever, by incarcerating her in the _Monasterio de los Arrepentidas_[*] of Seville, but the tears and entreaties of Donna Virginia made him change his intention: the sisters were separated, and for ever. Olivia was sent off to Galicia, and confined in a solitary convent among the wild ridges of the Sierra de Mondonedo, where, if living, she probably still resides.

[*] A place of confinement for ladies who misbehave.

*CHAPTER III.*

*THE SKIRMISH OF FUENTE DUENNA. THE LEAGUER
OF ALBA DE TORMES.*

"Comrades, should it please high Heaven
That we see Castile once more,--
Though we now go forth as outcasts,
Sad, dishonoured, homeless, poor,--
We'll return with glory laden,
And the spoilings of the Moor."
_The Cid._

About the middle of October the legions of Marshals Jourdan and Soult, having formed a junction, advanced, under the command of the latter, fifty thousand strong, from Valencia on Madrid, and in a short time arrived within a few leagues of Aranjuez. Combining his forces with those of Generals Elio and Freire, and with the Spaniards of Don Carlos de Espagna, Sir Rowland Hill, at the head of forty thousand well-tried soldiers, moved to meet them, commencing his march from Aranjuez on the 23rd of October. Many a sorrowful farewell was said that morning, and many a bright eye grew dim as the retiring sound of the British drums died away among the windings of the Tagus. Crossing the latter, immediately below the walls of the palace, the division marched to Colmenare de Orijo, a town of Toledo. Here different brigades were posted at the several fords of the Tagus, by which Soult's infantry might attempt to pass. That at Fuente Duenna fell to the lot of the first brigade. On the second day after their bivouacking there, a party of the enemy's cavalry were seen approaching the river, either to cross or reconnoitre. The light company of the Gordon Highlanders, and Captain Blacier's company of the German rifles, were ordered to receive them at the ford. Unluckily for himself, Lisle accompanied "the light bobs" on this occasion as a volunteer, in place of an officer who was sick. Seaton commanded the whole, and he placed the companies in ambush among some laurel-bushes, willows, and long reeds which grew by the water-side, overlooking the place where the dragoons must cross if such was their intention. The Highlanders knelt down on the right knee, but the Germans, who were posted among the reeds, lay flat on the ground, and levelled their short rifles over the glazed tops of their shakoes, which they placed before them. All were ready to let fly a volley among the unsuspecting Frenchmen, who came forward at a gallop with their carbines unslung. The party consisted of nearly eighty heavy dragoons. An officer of cuirassiers and two others in staff uniform accompanied them. They drew their bridles at the brink of the river, and from his place of concealment Stuart recognised his friend De Mesmai in the cuirassier; and in one of the staff officers Monsieur Law, the Baron de Clappourknuis, in the other their late host at Aranjuez, the Duke of Alba de T----.

"Stuart," whispered Lisle, "is it possible, that the officer without the epaulets is really the duke?"

"Without doubt 'tis he."

"How base and treacherous!"

"He will receive the reward of his treason instantly. It has always been whispered that he was false to King Ferdinand and his allies. A base wretch! to join the invaders of Spain when so many brave men are struggling with heart and hand to free her from the grasp of the Buonapartes. Evan, bring that officer down. Mark him when the word is given to fire."

"Were he as fause as Menteith, an ounce o' cauld leed will settle him," replied Evan, blowing some loose powder from his lock. "I'll tak' him canny, and wing him aucht inches below the oxter,--that's just in the belt."

"No, no, for God's sake!" whispered Louis to Stuart. "He is the father of Virginia de Alba, and were he as false as Judas that would save him."

"Hush!" whispered Seaton, in the same low tone; "they are conversing, and I should be glad to hear the news from Valencia."

"_Monsieur le Duc_ will perhaps be so good as to inform us whereabouts this infernal bridge of Fuente Duenna lies?" said De Mesmai.

"Ah!" chimed in the baron, in Spanish, "this is the place marked by the marshal in his map."

"The bridge lies lower down the river," replied the duke; "but there is a ford in this neighbourhood, which I will have the honour to show you, senores."

"Do so, in the devil's name!" replied De Mesmai hastily, while he surveyed the duke with an expression on his dark face which showed how much he despised such an auxiliary, notwithstanding his rank. "We have ridden quite far enough to see this ford, and when you have shown it to the baron, I will condescend to thank you."

"De Mesmai!" said the baron, holding up his hand warningly.

"Bah! _Monsieur le Baron_,--I comprehend; the British may look for a visit in the morning, which will yield them more danger than delight. With your permission, Monsieur Law, after reconnoitring this ford we will retire as soon as possible, because I little like riding here in such open ground. These bushes opposite might contain a thousand riflemen, or some of your bare-legged brethren, than whom I would rather face the devil. I have provided a white stake to drive into the ground, which will mark the ford for Lamorciere's chasseurs, who lead the way in our attack on Hill's troops to-night."

"Colonel Lamorciere shall be welcome," said Seaton, as De Mesmai moved his horse along the bank of the river, chanting gaily an old rondeau beginning with,--

_"Pauvres Anglais!_
_Vous n'avez que de l'arrogance,_
_Pauvres Anglais" &c. &c._

At that moment the Highland bugle-boy, who knelt by Beaton's side, sounded "_fire!_"

The bugle of the Germans answered on the left, and a deadly volley, which enveloped the whole place in smoke, was poured upon the French, nearly one half of whom fell from their saddles. Horses were seen galloping off in all directions, dragging their riders by the stirrup, or leaving them dead or dying on the ground. The traitor dashed his spurs into his horse's flanks and fled at full gallop, followed by the baron. But not so De Mesmai, whom this unexpected volley had filled with the utmost astonishment and ferocity, although it struck a temporary panic into the dragoons.

"Revenge! _mes camarades_. Follow me,--charge! By the name of the bomb! I will cleave to the gorget the first dastard who attempts to fly. _Vive l'Empereur_! Forward--charge!"

Animated by his example they crossed the ford at a gallop, dashing the water right and left; and forcing their horses up to the bank, even while exposed to a hot fire, they fell furiously with hoof and blade among the scattered Highlanders. It was a piece of unexampled daring for a few dragoons to cross a river thus, under a hot fire from concealed musquetry.

"_Vive l'Empereur_! No quarter to the Germans!" shouted De Mesmai, leaping his horse over the underwood.

"Form square!" cried the deep and manly voice of Seaton. "Rally--rally! Quick, Highlanders, or you will be cut to pieces! Close to the centre, Germans and all; blow 'the assembly,' bugler! Hurrah, my lads! Shoulder to shoulder, Highlandmen! and give them the bayonet." With the speed of thought a rallying square was formed. Blacier's Germans and the Highlanders mingled, the long cross-hilted daggers of the former acting efficiently as bayonets when fixed to the muzzles of their rifles. Ronald, while dressing, as it is technically termed, one of the faces of the square, narrowly escaped a cut aimed at him by a dragoon, who was instantly shot by Angus Mackie, a private next to him; and Seaton had the feathers of his bonnet sheered away by a stroke from De Mesmai's sword. But the cavalry seldom came within a pike's length of them; the stunted brushwood, the broken nature of the ground, and the prostrate men and horses encumbered their advance, while the steady fire of the little square disheartened and disconcerted them. After two brave attempts to break the band of infantry, De Mesmai was compelled to recross the ford, leaving sixty dragoons killed or wounded behind him. Notwithstanding the hasty nature of their retreat, the twenty who retired with him cut down and carried off several of the straggling riflemen, dragging them across their holster-flaps by main strength of arm. Some of these they were soon compelled to drop, when galled in retreat by the fire of the victorious light infantry, who again lined the bank, and kept blazing away so long as they were within range.

"Well done 60th!" exclaimed Seaton, as he mustered the companies together. "'Tis hard to say whether the green jackets or the tartan kilts have distinguished themselves most this morning. Lamorciere's chasseurs will have need of other guides than the dragoons, if they visit the ford to-night."