The Alhambra 37

The Alhambra 37

“How is this, villain!” cried the alcalde, in a furious voice. “You told

me that the infidel who died in your house left nothing behind but an

empty coffer, and now I hear of your wife flaunting in her rags decked

out with pearls and diamonds. Wretch that thou art! prepare to render up

the spoils of thy miserable victim, and to swing on the gallows that is

already tired of waiting for thee.”

 

The terrified water-carrier fell on his knees, and made a full relation

of the marvellous manner in which he had gained his wealth. The alcalde,

the alguazil, and the inquisitive barber listened with greedy ears to

this Arabian tale of enchanted treasure. The alguazil was dispatched to

bring the Moor who had assisted in the incantation. The Moslem entered

half frightened out of his wits at finding himself in the hands of the

harpies of the law. When he beheld the water-carrier standing with

sheepish looks and downcast countenance, he comprehended the whole

matter. “Miserable animal,” said he, as he passed near him, “did I not

warn thee against babbling to thy wife?”

 

The story of the Moor coincided exactly with that of his colleague; but

the alcalde affected to be slow of belief, and threw out menaces of

imprisonment and rigorous investigation.

 

“Softly, good Señor Alcalde,” said the Mussulman, who by this time had

recovered his usual shrewdness and self-possession. “Let us not mar

fortune’s favors in the scramble for them. Nobody knows anything of this

matter but ourselves; let us keep the secret. There is wealth enough in

the cave to enrich us all. Promise a fair division, and all shall be

produced; refuse, and the cave shall remain forever closed.”

 

The alcalde consulted apart with the alguazil. The latter was an old fox

in his profession. “Promise anything,” said he, “until you get

possession of the treasure. You may then seize upon the whole, and if he

and his accomplice dare to murmur, threaten them with the fagot and the

stake as infidels and sorcerers.”

 

The alcalde relished the advice. Smoothing his brow and turning to the

Moor, “This is a strange story,” said he, “and may be true, but I must

have ocular proof of it. This very night you must repeat the incantation

in my presence. If there be really such treasure, we will share it

amicably between us, and say nothing further of the matter; if ye have

deceived me, expect no mercy at my hands. In the mean time you must

remain in custody.”

 

The Moor and the water-carrier cheerfully agreed to these conditions,

satisfied that the event would prove the truth of their words.

 

Towards midnight the alcalde sallied forth secretly, attended by the

alguazil and the meddlesome barber, all strongly armed. They conducted

the Moor and the water-carrier as prisoners, and were provided with the

stout donkey of the latter to bear off the expected treasure. They

arrived at the tower without being observed, and tying the donkey to a

fig-tree, descended into the fourth vault of the tower.

 

The scroll was produced, the yellow waxen taper lighted, and the Moor

read the form of incantation. The earth trembled as before, and the

pavement opened with a thundering sound, disclosing the narrow flight of

steps. The alcalde, the alguazil, and the barber were struck aghast, and

could not summon courage to descend. The Moor and the water-carrier

entered the lower vault, and found the two Moors seated as before,

silent and motionless. They removed two of the great jars, filled with

golden coin and precious stones. The water-carrier bore them up one by

one upon his shoulders, but though a strong-backed little man, and

accustomed to carry burdens, he staggered beneath their weight, and

found, when slung on each side of his donkey, they were as much as the

animal could bear.

 

“Let us be content for the present,” said the Moor; “here is as much

treasure as we can carry off without being perceived, and enough to make

us all wealthy to our heart’s desire.”

 

“Is there more treasure remaining behind?” demanded the alcalde.

 

“The greatest prize of all,” said the Moor, “a huge coffer bound with

bands of steel, and filled with pearls and precious stones.”

 

“Let us have up the coffer by all means,” cried the grasping alcalde.

 

“I will descend for no more,” said the Moor, doggedly; “enough is enough

for a reasonable man--more is superfluous.”

 

“And I,” said the water-carrier, “will bring up no further burden to

break the back of my poor donkey.”

 

Finding commands, threats, and entreaties equally vain, the alcalde

turned to his two adherents. “Aid me,” said he, “to bring up the coffer,

and its contents shall be divided between us.” So saying, he descended

the steps, followed with trembling reluctance by the alguazil and the

barber.

 

No sooner did the Moor behold them fairly earthed than he extinguished

the yellow taper; the pavement closed with its usual crash, and the

three worthies remained buried in its womb.

 

He then hastened up the different flight of steps, nor stopped until in

the open air. The little water-carrier followed him as fast as his short

legs would permit.

 

“What hast thou done?” cried Peregil, as soon as he could recover

breath. “The alcalde and the other two are shut up in the vault.”

 

“It is the will of Allah!” said the Moor, devoutly.

 

“And will you not release them?” demanded the Gallego.

 

“Allah forbid!” replied the Moor, smoothing his beard. “It is written in

the book of fate that they shall remain enchanted until some future

adventurer arrive to break the charm. The will of God be done!” so

saying, he hurled the end of the waxen taper far among the gloomy

thickets of the glen.

 

There was now no remedy; so the Moor and the water-carrier proceeded

with the richly laden donkey toward the city, nor could honest Peregil

refrain from hugging and kissing his long-eared fellow-laborer, thus

restored to him from the clutches of the law; and, in fact, it is

doubtful which gave the simple-hearted little man most joy at the

moment, the gaining of the treasure, or the recovery of the donkey.

 

The two partners in good luck divided their spoil amicably and fairly,

except that the Moor, who had a little taste for trinketry, made out to

get into his heap the most of the pearls and precious stones and other

baubles, but then he always gave the water-carrier in lieu magnificent

jewels of massy gold, of five times the size, with which the latter was

heartily content. They took care not to linger within reach of

accidents, but made off to enjoy their wealth undisturbed in other

countries. The Moor returned to Africa, to his native city of Tangiers,

and the Gallego, with his wife, his children, and his donkey, made the

best of his way to Portugal. Here, under the admonition and tuition of

his wife, he became a personage of some consequence, for she made the

worthy little man array his long body and short legs in doublet and

hose, with a feather in his hat and a sword by his side, and laying

aside his familiar appellation of Peregil, assume the more sonorous

title of Don Pedro Gil: his progeny grew up a thriving and

merry-hearted, though short and bandy-legged generation, while Señora

Gil, befringed, belaced, and betasselled from her head to her heels,

with glittering rings on every finger, became a model of slattern

fashion and finery.

 

As to the alcalde and his adjuncts, they remained shut up under the

great tower of the seven floors, and there they remain spell-bound at

the present day. Whenever there shall be a lack in Spain of pimping

barbers, sharking alguazils, and corrupt alcaldes, they may be sought

after; but if they have to wait until such time for their deliverance,

there is danger of their enchantment enduring until doomsday.

 

 

 

 

THE TOWER OF LAS INFANTAS

 

 

In an evening’s stroll up a narrow glen, overshadowed by fig-trees,

pomegranates, and myrtles, which divides the lands of the fortress from

those of the Generalife, I was struck with the romantic appearance of a

Moorish tower in the outer wall of the Alhambra, rising high above the

tree-tops, and catching the ruddy rays of the setting sun. A solitary

window at a great height commanded a view of the glen; and as I was

regarding it, a young female looked out, with her head adorned with

flowers. She was evidently superior to the usual class of people

inhabiting the old towers of the fortress; and this sudden and

picturesque glimpse of her reminded me of the descriptions of captive

beauties in fairy tales. These fanciful associations were increased on

being informed by my attendant Mateo, that this was the Tower of the

Princesses (La Torre de las Infantas); so called, from having been,

according to tradition, the residence of the daughters of the Moorish

kings. I have since visited the tower. It is not generally shown to

strangers, though well worthy of attention, for the interior is equal,

for beauty of architecture and delicacy of ornament, to any part of the

palace. The elegance of the central hall, with its marble fountain, its

lofty arches, and richly fretted dome; the arabesques and stucco-work of

the small but well-proportioned chambers, though injured by time and

neglect, all accord with the story of its being anciently the abode of

royal beauty.

 

The little old fairy queen who lives under the staircase of the

Alhambra, and frequents the evening tertulias of Dame Antonia, tells

some fanciful traditions about three Moorish princesses who were once

shut up in this tower by their father, a tyrant king of Granada, and

were only permitted to ride out at night about the hills, when no one

was permitted to come in their way under pain of death. They still,

according to her account, may be seen occasionally when the moon is in

the full, riding in lonely places along the mountain-side, on palfreys

richly caparisoned and sparkling with jewels, but they vanish on being

spoken to.

 

But before I relate anything further respecting these princesses, the

reader may be anxious to know something about the fair inhabitant of the

tower, with her head dressed with flowers, who looked out from the lofty

window. She proved to be the newly married spouse of the worthy adjutant

of invalids; who, though well stricken in years, had had the courage to

take to his bosom a young and buxom Andalusian damsel. May the good old

cavalier be happy in his choice, and find the Tower of the Princesses a

more secure residence for female beauty than it seems to have proved in