LITMIR.BIZ

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not see his riding-boots; but, stretched on the floor with his head against the door, so that it was impossible to open it without disturbing him, lay the big servant fast asleep, his immense legs reaching nearly the whole length of the gallery. I crossed myself, as well I might, for the wind was howling even as it is now, and the rain was rushing down into the gallery in torrents; yet there lay the big servant fast asleep, without any covering, without any pillow, not even a log, stretched out before his master’s door.

      “Señor, I got little rest that night, for I said to myself, I have evil wizards in my house, folks who are not human. Once or twice I went up and peeped into the gallery, but there still lay the big servant fast asleep; so I crossed myself, and returned to my bed again.”

      “Well,” said I, “and what occurred next day?”

      “Nothing particular occurred next day: the jorobado came down and said comical things to me in good Spanish; and the big servant came down, but whatever he said, and he did not say much, I understood not, for it was in that disastrous jabber. They stayed with me throughout the day till after supper-time, and then the jorobado gave me a gold ounce, and mounting their horses, they both departed as strangely as they had come, in the dark night, I know not whither.”

      “Is that all?” I demanded.

      “No, Señor, it is not all; for I was right in supposing them evil brujos: the very next day an express arrived, and a great search was made after them, and I was arrested for having harboured them. This occurred just after the present wars had commenced. It was said they were spies and emissaries of I don’t know what nation, and that they had been in all parts of the Asturias, holding conferences with some of the disaffected. They escaped, however, and were never heard of more, though the animals which they rode were found without their riders, wandering amongst the hills; they were common ponies, and were of no value. As for the brujos, it is believed that they embarked in some small vessel which was lying concealed in one of the rias of the coast.”

      Myself. – What was the word which you continually heard proceeding from the lips of the big servant, and which you think you can remember?

      Host. —Señor, it is now three years since I heard it, and at times I can remember it, and at others not; sometimes I have started up in my sleep repeating it. Stay, Señor, I have it now at the point of my tongue: it was Patusca.

      Myself. —Batuschca, you mean; the men were Russians.

      CHAPTER XXXIII

      Oviedo – The Ten Gentlemen – The Swiss again – Modest Request – The Robbers – Episcopal Benevolence – The Cathedral – Portrait of Feijoo.

      I must now take a considerable stride in my journey, no less than from Muros to Oviedo, contenting myself with observing, that we proceeded from Muros to Velez, 23 and from thence to Gijon, where our guide Martin bade us farewell, and returned with his mare to Rivadeo. The honest fellow did not part without many expressions of regret; indeed he even expressed a desire that I should take him and his mare into my service. “For,” said he, “I have a great desire to run through all Spain, and even the world: and I am sure I shall never have a better opportunity than by attaching myself to your worship’s skirts.” On my reminding him, however, of his wife and family, for he had both, he said, “True, true, I had forgotten them: happy the guide whose only wife and family are a mare and foal.”

      Oviedo is about three leagues from Gijon. Antonio rode the horse, whilst I proceeded thither in a kind of diligence which runs daily between the two towns. The road is good, but mountainous. I arrived safely at the capital of the Asturias, although at a rather unpropitious season, for the din of war was at the gate, and there was the cry of the captains and the shouting. 24 Castile, at the time of which I am writing, was in the hands of the Carlists, who had captured and plundered Valladolid in much the same manner as they had Segovia some time before. They were every day expected to march on Oviedo, in which case they might perhaps have experienced some resistance, a considerable body of troops being stationed there, who had erected some redoubts, and strongly fortified several of the convents, especially that of Santa Clara de la Vega. All minds were in a state of feverish anxiety and suspense, more especially as no intelligence arrived from Madrid, which by the last accounts was said to be occupied by the bands of Cabrera and Palillos.

      So it came to pass that one night I found myself in the ancient town of Oviedo, in a very large, scantily furnished, and remote room in an ancient posada, formerly a palace of the counts of Santa Cruz. It was past ten, and the rain was descending in torrents. I was writing, but suddenly ceased on hearing numerous footsteps ascending the creaking stairs which led to my apartment. The door was flung open, and in walked nine men of tall stature, marshalled by a little hunchbacked personage. They were all muffled in the long cloaks of Spain, but I instantly knew by their demeanour that they were caballeros, or gentlemen. They placed themselves in a rank before the table where I was sitting. Suddenly and simultaneously they all flung back their cloaks, and I perceived that every one bore a book in his hand; a book which I knew full well. After a pause, which I was unable to break, for I sat lost in astonishment, and almost conceived myself to be visited by apparitions, the hunchback, advancing somewhat before the rest, said in soft silvery tones, “Señor Cavalier, was it you who brought this book to the Asturias?” I now supposed that they were the civil authorities of the place come to take me into custody, and, rising from my seat, I exclaimed, “It certainly was I, and it is my glory to have done so. The book is the New Testament of God: I wish it was in my power to bring a million.” “I heartily wish so too,” said the little personage with a sigh. “Be under no apprehension, Sir Cavalier; these gentlemen are my friends. We have just purchased these books in the shop where you placed them for sale, and have taken the liberty of calling upon you, in order to return you our thanks for the treasure you have brought us. I hope you can furnish us with the Old Testament also.” I replied, that I was sorry to inform him that at present it was entirely out of my power to comply with his wish, as I had no Old Testaments in my possession, but did not despair of procuring some speedily from England. He then asked me a great many questions concerning my biblical travels in Spain, and my success, and the views entertained by the Society with respect to Spain, adding, that he hoped we should pay particular attention to the Asturias, which he assured me was the best ground in the Peninsula for our labour. After about half an hour’s conversation, he suddenly said, in the English language, “Good night, sir,” wrapped his cloak around him, and walked out as he had come. His companions, who had hitherto not uttered a word, all repeated, “Good night, sir,” and, adjusting their cloaks, followed him.

      In order to explain this strange scene, I must state, that in the morning I had visited the petty bookseller of the place, Longoria, and having arranged preliminaries with him, I sent him in the evening a package of forty Testaments, all I possessed, with some advertisements. At the time he assured me that, though he was willing to undertake the sale, there was, nevertheless, not a prospect of success, as a whole month had elapsed since he had sold a book of any description, on account of the uncertainty of the times, and the poverty which pervaded the land; I therefore felt much dispirited. This incident, however, admonished me not to be cast down when things look gloomiest, as the hand of the Lord is generally then most busy: that men may learn to perceive, that whatever good is accomplished is not their work, but His.

      Two or three days after this adventure, I was once more seated in my large scantily-furnished room; it was about ten, of a dark melancholy morning, and the autumnal rain was again falling. I had just breakfasted, and was about to sit down to my journal, when the door was flung open and in bounded Antonio.

      “Mon maître,” said he, quite breathless, “who do you think has arrived?”

      “The Pretender, I suppose,” said I, in some trepidation; “if so, we are prisoners.”

      “Bah, bah!” said Antonio, “it is not the Pretender, but one worth twenty of him; it is the Swiss of Saint James.”

      “Benedict Mol, the Swiss!” said I. “What! has he found the treasure? But how did he come?

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