Tales of the Wonder Club Volume III Part 2

Who can cast a stone at Dame Rodriguez?

Oh, his head's gone; that's very clear, alas!

_My_ life! 'Twere well he thought about his own, Spent here mid dusty books and parchments old, With dirty bottles and queer instruments.

As no one ever saw the like before.

What he does with them, who can understand?

Shut up here like a hermit all day long.

A plague on him, and all his crotchety ways!

Wait till my mistress Inez doth return; She will enliven him, and 'twixt us two, We'll make a clearance of this dusty cell.

"Talk to her not of dress!" Poor silly man!

Why, how on earth is the poor child to know, Shut up these five years in those convent walls, Of all the latest fas.h.i.+ons of the day?

How should she dress herself without the aid Of old Rodriguez? See how these men are.

Do we live in a world or do we not?

I should not do my duty to his child Were I to listen to him. No I must, The instant she arrives, take her in hand.

"Talk to her not of gallants!" Why, forsooth?

Must the poor child see no society?

Is this hall a convent or a desert?

Was she not born to marry and to mix With other ladies of her state and rank?

How should she find a husband without me?

She's growing up now, and has no mother, And as for her poor father, he'd as soon Think of flying as of his daughter's weal.

No, no; but I will teach her how to cut A figure in this world as best becomes Her rank and station. I will teach her, too, What colours best become her, and how I, I, Rodriguez, figured once in youth, When I with train of yellow and scarlet silk, And stomacher of green, sleeves of sky-blue, First did meet my Carlos at the bull-fight.

I'll teach her how to dress, to use the fan-- Thus, also thus, and thus, and how to draw, With well-feigned coyness, the mantilla, thus, Across her face, leaving one eye exposed, And ogle, so, the gallants as they pa.s.s.

A few good lessons taken from an adept Will soon prepare her for society.

PEDRO. (_Without._) Rodriguez, Hola! Rodriguez, What ho!

_Enter_ PEDRO.

ROD. Donna Rodriguez, an it please you, sir.

PED. Well then, be it so, Donna Rodriguez, I've just met master coming from the castle, Apparently in no good humour. He Asked me if you'd given me a letter Addressed to Donna Inez at the convent, And bid me thither haste without delay, Threatening me with mine instant dismissal Should Mistress Inez fail to arrive to-morrow, And thus with hasty step and moody brow He pa.s.sed me by, as if old retainers Had not their privileges, eh? Rodriguez-- Donna Rodriguez, I should say. Pardon me.

ROD. Here is the letter; you had best be off.

Stay, Pedro. Did master look so savage?

PED. Even so.

ROD. Something must have angered him.

Prithee, good Pedro, hast thou not of late Noted a change in poor Don Silvio?

PED. Faith, I cannot tell. Since I have known him He hath been always the same moody man.

ROD. But has he not of late seemed more estranged, More dull, more gloomy, just as if there were Something of unusual import that Were hanging o'er him?

PED. In truth I know not.

ROD. He sees no company.

PED. That's nothing new.

ROD. I mean--save that of that old haughty Don, Old Don Diego from the neighbouring castle, Who ne'er vouchsafes me word, but when he comes Pa.s.ses me by as the veriest s.l.u.t, With not so much as "Good-day, Rodriguez,"

But asks me sternly if my master's in.

His visits have been frequent here of late.

What think'st thou is the meaning of all this?

PED. In faith, I know not, and do not much care.

ROD. Ha! thou carest not? Come now, good Pedro, Wilt thou that I confide a secret to thee?

PED. A secret that shall increase my wages, Take more work off my shoulders? Then declare 't; If it be ought else, then keep your secret.

I am tired of ever being the slave and drudge Of my old master for such paltry pay.

I've served here now some twenty years and more.

But matters were not always thus. I've seen The castle walls look handsomer in my day.

In Lady Dorothea's time I never Had to wait for my wages, and my suit Was always clean and new. Then were there more Servants in the castle who took near all The work off my hands. Now that they're dismissed The burden of the household falls on me, And the wages, 'stead of waxing more, I have to wait for. I know not how long 'tis I have not seen the colour of his gold.

Why, the castle's gone to rack and ruin.

I am ashamed to meet my former friends, The well-fed menials of Don Diego's hall, When they with grave and supercilious smile Do thus accost me, "Ha! good man, Pedro, How fares it with thee and thy poor master?

Thy suit, methinks, grows musty, like his castle, And, to speak truth, I once have seen thee fatter."

Then straight they talk about their master's bounty.

"Look how we fare," say they; "an I were thou I'd strike for higher wages or else leave."

And all these taunts I have to bear--for what?

ROD. Well, well, I fare but as yourself; but hark-- Something's astir within the castle.

PED. (_Turning round timidly._) Where?

ROD. Bah! I mean something's about to happen In this old hall, an I do not mistake.

A _change_.

PED. For the better? Out with it, Rodriguez.

Be quick, for with this note I must away. [_Going._

ROD. Just so; the letter. What think'st thou there's in 't?

PED. I never play the spy. Money, think you?

[_Holding it up to the light._

ROD. I trow not. I spoke but of it's import.

PED. Marry, what should it be but just to bid Young Mistress Inez home without delay?

ROD. Exactly; and canst divine the motive?

PED. Faith! Perhaps the charges of the convent Have grown too costly for the miser's purse, Or 't may be having stayed there her full time, She now returns unto her father's hall.

ROD. Not altogether that, for I well know Don Silvio would fain have kept her longer.

Hark, Pedro! thou know'st that I've always been A faithful follower of this ancient house, And no time-server as some others are.

PED. (_Aside._) Humph! That's meant for me. Time-server, forsooth!

ROD. Ill would 't become a faithful old retainer Not to take interest in her lord's affairs, So with this sense of duty upmost, aye, And marking something most unusual In these frequent visits of Don Diego, Then hearing once his voice in angry tones, And that of our poor master, trembling, meek, I naturally bent my ear until It level stood with the chamber's keyhole.