Tales from the Lands of Nuts and Grapes Part 9

Spain, in her religious fanaticism, is no more like other countries than Sebastian de las Cabras was like other men.

St. Vincent, be it known, is wors.h.i.+pped in the Peninsula as the guardian saint against that horrible scourge, small-pox.

In Galliza it is declared all diseases and misfortunes in life were produced in order that there should be patron saints; and this is just as true as the saying in Leon, that wheat was produced so that there might be stomachs.

Sebastian de las Cabras cared neither for the saints nor for the sayings; he feared neither the law nor the evil one; but he quailed before his wife, D. Barbara, whose beauty, like that of the demolished alcazar at Ecija, was a thing of the past.

D. Barbara was, however, a woman who made herself respected; and of all the saints in the calendar there was none for whom she had so great a veneration as St. Vincent, who had saved her when suffering from small-pox.

Not the three wives who got up from their graves in Merida and appeared to the husband to whom they had all been married, produced a more startling effect on that widower than D. Barbara on her husband Sebastian, when she would visit him as he was tending his herds on the mountain sides, for no woman ever had such a tongue. Even the Archbishop of Compostella, in pity to the clergy of his diocese, had ordained that D. Barbara needed no confession. He absolved her from all sin for the love and veneration she had for St. Vincent, but blamed the good saint for the mercy he had shown D. Barbara.

Sebastian de las Cabras had been to the tombs of St. Vincent in Compostella, in Salamanca, Cadiz, Malaga, and Seville, to induce the good saint to undo his good work; but the bodies were inexorable, and Barbara continued to plague him with her tongue, and to mark him with her nails.

Seeing that he could get no relief for his home troubles from St.

Vincent, Sebastian recollected the faith of his fathers, and bethought of applying for advice to an old Moor who lived in the neighbouring village.

To this wise man he therefore went; and, after explaining matters, he declared that he bore no ill-will to his wife, but rather to the saint, for that it was owing to him that D. Barbara was spared.

"It is a difficult matter," said the Moor, "and one that will require great consideration and prudence before attempting to master it. You Christians make saints to serve you, and because your interests are not all alike you blame the saints for not doing what is obviously impossible. Now, I know that he whom you call St. Vincent loved the tongue of a woman no better than the scimitar of the Saracen, and for this reason did he probably prefer to spare the life of D. Barbara than be importuned by her in his place of rest."

"What, then, would you advise me to do, for with D. Barbara I can no longer live?"

"There are St. Nicholas, St. Tiburtius, St. Bartholomew, and others who equally fear the noise of a woman's tongue; but little St. Francis died stone-deaf, and being naturally of an envious disposition, nothing would please him better than to revenge himself on his colleagues by foisting D. Barbara on to them."

"But if little St. Francis be deaf, how shall I make him hear my complaint?" demanded Sebastian.

"Thou art no true Catholic if thou knowest not the weakness of the saints in general, but of their keepers here on earth in particular.

Thou mayest shout thyself deaf, dance, and jump, but they may not hear thee; but if thou showest them the bright yellow gold thou wilt be heard and understood, even if thou hadst not a voice, and wert as dumb as thou wouldst wish D. Barbara to be," answered the Moor.

"I will away, then, to the market and sell some of my finest beasts, and the money which I receive for them will I gladly bestow on little St.

Francis," said Sebastian.

The oxen were sold, and Sebastian hurried away with the money to the shrine of little St. Francis; and after devoutly praying, he proceeded to count out the gold pieces one by one; and great was his joy when he noticed the saint commence to move, open his eyes, stretch out his hands, and declare that Sebastian's pet.i.tion should be granted.

That very night when Sebastian and his wife were in bed, and the latter was delivering a lengthy lecture on the coa.r.s.eness and want of breeding in snoring when a lady was speaking, little St. Francis appeared at the bedside with a mirror in his hand.

"Barbara," said the saint, "thy virtues are known to us, and as a reward we have decreed that thou shalt be restored to youth and beauty, which thou shalt thyself behold when looking into this mirror; but beware no angry or vain words pa.s.s thy lips, for then will thy lack of modesty be punished by hideous old age and infirmity, therefore, beware!" And saying this, he left the now happy pair-Barbara admiring herself in the mirror by the light of a cruse, and Sebastian enjoying that unbroken sleep which he had not known for years.

The mirror never pa.s.sed out of D. Barbara's possession, and was never known to leave her hand until her frame, gradually tired out by want of rest, succ.u.mbed to the fascination of little St. Francis's gift and the wisdom of the friendly Moor.

THE WATCHFUL SERVANT.

There was once a prince who was going to visit his lady-love, the only daughter of a neighbouring king; and as he required the services of an attendant, he sent for his barber, who was known in the town for his very good behaviour, as well as for his eccentric ways.

"Pablo," said the prince, "I want you to go with me to Granada to a.s.sist me on my journey. I will reward you handsomely, and you shall lack for nothing in the way of food. But you must don my livery, salute me in the fas.h.i.+on of Spain, hold my stirrup when I mount, and do everything that is required of a servant. Above all, you must not let me oversleep myself, for otherwise I shall be late in arriving at Granada."

"Sir," answered the barber, "I will be as true to you as the dog was to St. Dominic. When you are sleeping I will be on guard, and when you are awake I will see that no harm approaches you; but I beg you not to be annoyed with me if, in trying to be of service to you, I do unwillingly cause you any annoyance."

"Good Pablo," continued the prince, "say no more, but return to your shop, pack up your linen, and come here as soon as you can this evening.

If I am in bed when you arrive, you will know that it is because I must get up to-morrow morning by five o'clock, and see to it that you let me not sleep beyond that time."

Pablo hurried home, packed up his few articles of underclothing, and then proceeded to the princ.i.p.al wine tavern to tell his friends of his good fortune. They were all so pleased to hear of Pablo's good luck that they drank to his health, and he returned the compliment so often that at last the wine was beginning to tell on him, so he bid his friends good-bye and left, saying to himself, "I must wake his highness at five o'clock." This he kept repeating so often that he had arrived at the large courtyard of the palace before he was aware of it.

The prince's bedroom looked into the courtyard, and Pablo saw by the dim light that was burning in the room that the prince had retired to rest.

Afraid lest the prince should think he had forgotten all about awaking him, and that he might therefore be keeping awake, Pablo seized a long cane, with which he tapped at the window of the prince, and kept on tapping until the prince appeared, and opened the window, shouting out-

"Who is there? Who wants me?"

"It is I," said Pablo. "I have not forgotten your orders; to-morrow morning I will wake your highness at five."

"Very good, Pablo; but let me sleep awhile, or else I shall be tired to-morrow."

As soon as the prince had disappeared Pablo commenced thinking over all the princes of whom he had heard, and he had become so interested in the subject that when he heard the c.o.c.k crow, imagining it was daybreak, he again seized the cane and tapped loudly at the window.

The prince again lifted up the sash, and cried out-

"Who is it? What do you want? Let me sleep, or else I shall be tired to-morrow."

"Sir," exclaimed the barber, "the c.o.c.k has already crowed, and it must be time to rise."

"You are mistaken," replied the prince, "for it is only half an hour ago since you woke me; but I am not annoyed with you."

Pablo was now sorely troubled in his mind because he thought he might give offence to the prince, and so he kept revolving in his mind all that his mother had told him about the anger of princes, and how much it was to be dreaded. This thought so perplexed him that he resolved on putting an end to the life of the c.o.c.k that had caused the mistake. He therefore proceeded to the poultry-yard close by, and seeing the offender surrounded by the hens, he made a rush at him, which set all the fowls cackling as if a fox had broken in.

The prince, hearing the noise, hurried to the window, and in a loud voice inquired what the noise was all about.

"Sir," said Pablo, "I was but trying to punish the disturber of your rest. I have got hold of him now, and your highness may go to sleep without further care, as I will not forget to waken you."

"But," continued the prince, "if you waken me again before it is time, I will most decidedly punish you." Saying which he again retired to rest.

"Since the days when c.o.c.ks crew in the Holy Land they have always brought sorrow into this world," inwardly e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Pablo. "His proper place is in the pan, and that is where he should go if I had my way."

All at once Pablo commenced to feel very sleepy, so he walked up and down the yard to keep awake; but becoming drowsy he sank on the ground, and was soon so fast asleep that he dreamt a n.i.g.g.e.r prince was attacking him, which made him scream so terribly that it woke, not only the prince, but also all the dogs in the neighbourhood.

The prince again rushed to the window, and hearing Pablo scream out, "Don't murder me, I will give you all!" hurried down into the yard, and seeing how matters stood bestowed such a hearty kick on Pablo that he jumped up.

The frightened barber beholding the prince near to him, took to his heels, and ran home as fast as he could.

When he had got into bed he began regretting that he had run away from the prince's service, so he got up again, saying to himself, "The prince shall have a sharper spur than I could ever buckle on;" and, proceeding to the princ.i.p.al door of the palace, he wrote the following words with chalk, "Pablo has gone before your highness to court the Princess of Granada himself."

This had the desired effect, for when the prince arose in the morning and was leaving the palace alone, he read the words, and they caused him to be so jealous that he performed the distance in half the time he would otherwise have taken.

Pablo after that used to say that "a jealous man on horseback is first cousin to a flash of lightning and to a true Spaniard."