Another stratagem of a still more daring character, and infinitely more fatal to the Spaniards, was conceived and executed, almost at the moment when they thought the young monarch reduced to despair. But of that we shall have occasion to speak more at length hereafter. The thousand conflicts on land and water, that marked the progress of a siege so extraordinary, have but little connexion with the adventures of the two outcasts; and we are glad of the privilege to pass them by.
CHAPTER IX
When Magdalena was led from the presence of Juan, she was conducted through many chambers and passages, which gave her an idea of the immense extent of the palace, to the quarter especially appropriated to the women, and which was as carefully guarded from the approach of the other sex as the harem of an oriental monarch. It consisted of a series of dormitories and other small apartments, as well as a vast hall, covered with pictured tapestry and knots of flowers, in which the daily labour of the loom and spindle was shared by all, the princess and the slave alike, mingled with the more elegant occupations of embroidery and feather-painting.
But the toil of the day had been long since over, and when she entered, the maidens were amusing themselves, some talking and laughing, and others dancing to the sound of flutes, and all unconscious or heedless of the perils that were about to hem them in.
The appearance of a vision so strange, so often imagined, yet never before seen – a woman of the race of the invaders, and one at once so majestic and lovely as Magdalena – produced an immediate sensation throughout the merry crew. The dancing ceased, the music of the pipe was exchanged for a murmur of admiration, and all eyes were turned upon the novel apparition. But it was observable, that the maidens indulged in no rude demonstrations of curiosity or surprise. They neither thronged about her, nor uttered any loud exclamations; and however ardently they gazed, when unperceived, each cast her looks modestly to the floor, the moment she found the eyes of the stranger directed upon her.
Troubled as were Magdalena's thoughts by the strangeness of her situation, and conscious of her inability to exchange a word with these new companions, she yet felt a sort of relief, and even pleasure, to find herself once more surrounded by individuals of her own sex, who, as was evident from their appearance, were neither rude in manners nor degraded in mind.
In this happier frame of feeling, she suffered herself to be conducted to a chamber, where two young female slaves attended her with refreshments of meats, fruits, and confections, and pointing to a couch of robes, upon a little platform under a canopy, left her to her meditations.
She rose from a troubled and dreamy slumber at the dawn, and waited impatiently for the moment when she should be led to Juan. The slaves again made their appearance, bearing, besides food, which they set before her, rich garments of the most splendid hues, which they desired her by signs to substitute for her monastic attire. To this she acceded, after some hesitation, thinking it needful to humour the wishes of those upon whose friendship her existence, as well as that of Juan, so obviously depended. She exchanged, at least, the gray veil for a broad mantle embroidered with feathers and gold, and placed over her other dress three several tunics, each of a different hue, and each gorgeously ornamented. Her toilet was completed when the slaves had encircled her arms and neck with jewels, and wreathed her hair with chains of gold; to all which she passively, yet impatiently, submitted.
Thus dressed and decorated, she was conducted again to the great hall, and seated upon a throne cushioned over with feathers of every hue, when, to her great surprise, she found herself the object upon whom was to be showered marks of the most extraordinary honour. The crowd of maidens was huddled in the farther end of the apartment, where they stood with downcast eyes, giving place to a female, evidently of exalted rank, who came from among them, followed by five or six girls, much more splendidly dressed than the others, one of whom bore in her arms a sleeping infant.
The Indian lady was distinguished from her attendants by apparel similar in hues and splendour to that worn by Magdalena, and she had on her head a little cap or caul of emeralds, mingled with pearls. Her face was prepossessing, her figure well proportioned, and her bearing not without dignity. Yet there was in her aspect something of trouble and hesitation, and she went through the business of salutation, or rather homage, for so it appeared, with visible reluctance. She approached the throne, and kneeling before it, took Magdalena's hand, and laid it upon her head, speaking a few words which the Christian did not comprehend. Then taking the infant from the girl who bore it, she laid Magdalena's hand upon its innocent brows, in the same manner; after which she stepped aside, and the young attendants went each separately through the same ceremony. This accomplished, she stole from the apartment, and in a few moments, the spindle rolled, the shuttle of the simple loom rattled, and the fingers of the embroiderers and feather-painters moved over their tasks.
The morning passed away, and Magdalena still expected a summons to the presence of Juan. The evening darkened, the fragrant torches were lighted, the pipe and dance were again summoned to close the labours of the day, and Magdalena was, a second time, conducted to her chamber, to muse with fear and distrust over her singular situation.
The second day beheld the same ceremonies, succeeded by the same labours and diversions, and still not a movement indicated the approach of a messenger. She looked upon the maidens around, – their faces were grave and placid. They gazed upon her no more, except when her eyes were averted. She imagined a thousand reasons to account for her seclusion. Was her brother, notwithstanding his assurances to the contrary, in a state of as much restraint as herself? Or – was it possible? – did it not depend upon himself? – was it possible, he did not desire to see her? She thought of his slowness to admit her claim of consanguinity; she thought of the words of Camarga, – of their wildness – Had not Juan said he was insane? – of their insufficiency. Nay, she remembered that Juan spoke of his father, whom he well remembered; and among the tears she shed of doubt and disappointment, she blushed at the boldness and warmth with which she had advocated her claims.
Another day came, – another, and still another; and her heart sickened and her cheek grew pale with suspense and humiliation. Then impatience waxed into anger, and she stalked among the maidens with looks of determination, as if she would have commanded them to lead her from what she justly conceived to be imprisonment. But how command them? Her language was as the language of the gods to them, and their words were to her as unmeaning as the songs of the birds at the windows. Eyes can speak many things, but not all; and signs are of too arbitrary a nature to serve as the medium of communication betwixt two hemispheres. If she strove to depart from the chamber, she was followed by the two slaves, who seemed to be specially devoted to her service, and who, attending her from room to room, yet arrested her with humble and supplicating gestures, when she seemed to be overstepping the limits of the harem. If she persisted, she found herself in the power of certain antique beldames, who prowled around the sacred chambers, bearing wands to indicate their authority, and who opposed themselves, though without rudeness, to further egress. If she still made her way through these, she found herself stopped by passages, in which were armed barbarians, who did not hesitate to block up the avenues with their shields and spears. In other words, she found that she was a prisoner, confined to a society as recluse, as peaceful, and perhaps as happy as that from which it had been her misfortune to be released. The pride and energy of her nature were here lost; for there was nothing with which to contend, except her feelings, and nothing to excite, save a sense of wrong, inflicted she knew not by whom, nor why.
This was precisely the state of things to tame her spirit into submission and inaction; and, almost insensibly to herself, she began to accommodate her deportment to her condition, substituting anxiety for anger, and despondence for decision. She began to think that Juan was, like herself, a prisoner; and the apprehension of his distresses weighed on her heart more heavily than the sense of her own; and, as with all her strength of mind and passion, there was a tinge of superstition running through all her thoughts, she beheld, in the singular train of calamities that had brought her so often to his side, a revelation and proof that she was ordained, finally, to rescue him from this, as well as the other ills, which oppressed him. Another thought brooded also in her bosom. Hitherto, whatsoever efforts she had made for his good, had ministered only to his griefs; and what had they brought to her? From the moment in which she had first attempted deceit, by concealing the sanctity of her profession, her life had been but a history of agony and shame. Had she avowed herself, immediately after the shipwreck, the bride of the cross, Hilario had not died under the knife of the assassin, Juan Lerma had not forfeited the favour of his general, and she herself had, perhaps, closed her life in the peace with which it had begun. She began to picture to herself the sinfulness of her evasions of vows, and to consider these the causes of her sufferings. Such thoughts as these, and a thousand others, divided and harassed her mind by turns, and confounded while they tormented. But one idea never left her – and that was, the uncertainty of the fate of Juan Lerma, and the hope that it might be reserved for her to free him from the bondage of infidels. But how was this to be effected? She knew not.
Her first vague desire was to gain a friend among the grave and passionless creatures, by whom she was surrounded. She examined all their countenances, and soon fixed upon several in which she thought she could trace kindly feelings and simplicity of character. She strove also to acquire a little of their language, – an effort which she soon gave up, not so much from the difficulty of acquisition, as from the remoteness of any benefit to be derived in that way.
She perceived that the Mexican lady who, each morning, for the first fortnight of her captivity, (after which time she was seen no more,) commenced the ceremonies of salutation, so humble, and indeed to her so irksome, must be of the highest rank, – perhaps the queen of Guatimozin himself; though it seemed improbable that one so exalted would condescend to homage so servile. She was conscious also, that the six maidens who attended upon this princess were of no mean rank; for though they frequently remained in the hall, engaged in labour, like the rest, it was clear that the others looked upon them with the greatest deference. Of these she had long singled out one who was superior to the others in beauty and mildness of countenance; and it seemed to her that this one, in going through the morning ceremony, endeavoured to make her sensible that she did so with sincerity and feeling. Thus, besides placing Magdalena's hand on her head, she carried it also to her lips, expressing as much desire as her countenance could convey, to be esteemed the Christian's friend.
These things almost escaped Magdalena's notice at first; but she afterwards remembered them, and strove to respond with manifestations of similar inclination. She observed, however, that the maiden gradually changed from tranquillity to melancholy, as if something preyed upon her spirits. She repeated, indeed, her salutation each morning, but it was no longer with smiles, and with a disposition to linger about Magdalena's person. On the contrary, she retired without delay to a little nook under a window, where she continued her task among feathers and flowers, seldom stirring from the spot. It was evident to the penetrating eye of Magdalena, that the Indian maiden was wasting away under some grief as poignant and enduring as her own; and though she attributed it only to some of the evils of war, the commencement of which had long since been indicated by the distant explosions of artillery, she was the more favourably impressed by the damsel's emotion, since none of the others seemed to share it, nor to betray either fear or anxiety.
She attempted then to come to some understanding with this maiden. She sat down by her in her little nook, and watched, with what, had she been in a better frame of mind, would have been admiration, the progress of her toils, as well as the effects of previous labours. She beheld, with surprise, garlands and bouquets of flowers, constructed of feathers, and imitated with such wonderful precision, that when they were mingled with a few natural ones, and impregnated with their odours, it seemed almost impossible that they could be artificial. The same art has existed in other parts of the continent, and is practised to this day, in some of the nunneries of Brazil. There were also pictures, worked with the same beautiful materials, upon a groundwork of prepared cloth, which were chiefly confined to the representation of flowers and birds. When Magdalena first visited the maiden, she found her engaged upon what seemed a wood-pigeon, surrounded by a little wilderness of flowers and leaves. The design, though simple, was pretty and spirited; yet the maiden seemed dissatisfied with her work, and altered it daily, as if each day still more displeased; until, at last, she seemed to have hit upon a plan more to her taste, when she pursued her task with what seemed a morbid ardour. When Magdalena looked at it last, she found the whole design and character of the work changed. The flowers had been displaced by stones and brambles; an arrow was represented sticking through the neck of the bird; and the story of a wounded heart was told in the metaphor of the poor flutterer, harmed by some wanton bolt, and left dying in a desert place.
When Magdalena beheld this painted sentiment, she took the hand of the artist, and pressing it as if with sympathy, pointed to her bosom. A faint tinge of blood passed over her embrowned visage, but she looked confidingly into Magdalena's face, as if not ashamed to confess her grief. When Magdalena was persuaded she was understood, she directed the painter's eyes to the bird, and then pointed expressively to her own bosom, as if to signify that she also was unhappy. The maiden bowed her head upon her breast, and Magdalena saw that tears were stealing from her eyes. She thought they were the tears of sympathy; and when the damsel looked up, she cast off all reserve, and indicated as plainly as she could, by gestures, that she desired to make her way into the garden.
The maiden shook her head, and would have departed, but that Magdalena, rendered indiscreet by her impatience, arrested her, to make trial of a new appeal. She took the jewels from her hair, and without reflecting that the rank of the maiden, indicated by gems quite as valuable as her own, might render her inaccessible to such temptation, she made as if she would have thrown them upon her head and neck. She was sorry for the act; for as soon as the maiden understood what she designed, she drew back with a look of offended dignity, and with cheeks burning at once with mortification and anger. Then, gathering up her little picture, her bodkins, and basket of coloured feathers, she left the apartment, and returned to it no more that day.
Amid all her grief at the disappointment of her hopes, Magdalena had yet generosity enough to appreciate the spirit of the young pagan, and to lament having outraged her feelings.
That night, when the female slaves had departed from her chamber, and she was musing disconsolately in the light of a little night-lantern, consisting of a taper of resinous wood, surrounded by thin plates of gold, perforated with holes in many fantastic figures, which transmitted the light, she was roused by a sigh; and looking up, she beheld, to her great surprise, the young artist standing before her, in an attitude of sad and patient humility. As soon as the visitor perceived that she was seen, she approached, and knelt at Magdalena's feet, who now saw, with a touch of shame, and, at first, even of resentment, that, as if in requital of the insult of the morning, she held in her hands all the jewels that had decorated her hair and person, and offered them for her acceptance. But Magdalena's displeasure soon passed away; for the jewels were proffered with the deepest humility, and the damsel's eyes were suffused with tears. She murmured out some words, too, and the tone was expressive of grief.
All this was mysterious to Magdalena, who puzzled herself in vain to account for the act and the donation. She restored the jewels, and the maiden being wholly submissive, she replaced them about her person with her own hands; and then, taking advantage of the opportunity, made another effort to come to a better understanding with her. She remembered that her companion was a painter, and being herself a little skilled in the art, she drew with a bodkin from her hair, upon the soft wood of the table that supported her lamp, the figure of a man in Spanish costume, bound in a cell. The representation was awkward, yet it appeared that the damsel understood it; for she took the bodkin, and immediately, though with a trembling hand, completed the picture by the addition of another figure, representing a Mexican, with a crown like that Magdalena had seen on the head of Guatimozin, who, with one hand, extended to him the handle of a macana, while threatening him with another, brandished above his head.
This was expressive enough, and Magdalena's alarm for the safety of the young man was only removed when the maiden drew what was plainly designed for a buckler, interposed between the weapon and his head.
Magdalena then, without further hesitation, leaped to the grand object of her desires, by drawing the figure of a man paddling in a canoe. This also her companion understood, and replied to it significantly enough, by surrounding the little vessel with many others, filled with Indians, or other human beings, who attacked it with showers of arrows and darts.
"Alas! is there no hope for us then? no hope for my poor brother?" exclaimed Magdalena, wringing her hands. "Maiden! maiden! carry me but to him! – Alas, I speak as to a stone statue!"
She then resumed the bodkin, and returning to the first sketch, she drew the figure of two women, entering the cell. The response to this ended her hopes immediately. The Indian girl sketched the outlines of men, armed with spears, circling around the whole cell.
Magdalena sank upon the couch in despair, and almost in a frenzy. The maiden, frighted by the vehemence of her grief, endeavoured to soothe her, by pressing her hand to her bosom and forehead, and covering it with kisses and tears; after which she stole quietly from the chamber.
It was many weeks before Magdalena beheld her again. She vanished from the hall, she came no more to kneel on her footstool in the morning, and display her melancholy visage to the stranger. Magdalena's heart died within her. She was in a solitude among living creatures, – the most oppressive of all solitudes. Her suspense was intolerable, and preyed upon her health, until she was wasted to a shadow, and the pagan damsels eyed her, when she appeared among them, with looks of pity. She succumbed at last to her fate; the fever of her mind extended to her body; and she was missed from the hall, as well as the young artist. She became ill, and she threw herself upon her couch, to waste away with passion and delirium. But there was still a gleam of happiness to break upon her.
One night, when the dancing, – now no longer pursued with spirit, for the cannon of the Spaniards sounded each day louder and nearer, – had ceased, and the flutes were breathed upon no more, she felt her hand pressed with a gentle grasp. She looked up, and beheld the Indian girl at her side, eyeing her with compassion. She sprang to her feet, in an ecstacy of delight, and embraced her; for she hailed her appearance as the herald of joy.
"Oh, maiden! maiden!" she cried, "what news of my brother?"
The damsel replied with the only words in her power, but the best she could have used, had she been acquainted with the whole speech of Castile. She looked sadly but firmly into Magdalena's face, and murmured softly,
"Juan Lelma" —
The accent was imperfect and false, but the sounds were music to Magdalena. She clasped the young barbarian again in her arms, but her caresses were only responded to by tears and sobs, which seemed to increase in proportion to her own raptures. But Magdalena was too wild with hope to think of the sorrows of her friend. She saw that the Indian held in her hand, two long and capacious mantles of a plain stuff, which, she knew, were to veil them from evil eyes, while they crept to the cell of her brother. But the maiden checked her impetuosity. She removed the trinkets from her head and person, and again offered them to the Christian; and persisted to do so, though still most gently and humbly, until Magdalena, thinking this might be some important ceremony, a proof perhaps of friendship offered and received, and perceiving, what was more influential still, that it was necessary to hasten the proceedings of her visitor, consented to receive them. She yielded to her importunities, and the Indian girl clasped around her ankles, arms, and neck, and twisted in her hair, all the jewels that had decorated her own person, besides hanging round her neck the silver cross and rosary, – Magdalena's own gift to Juan, – which she received with rapture, not doubting that he had sent it to her as a token and a full warrant to submit herself to the guidance of the young infidel. This accomplished, she assisted Magdalena to secure the larger mantle about her figure, and wrapped herself in the other. Then beckoning the Christian to follow, and signing to her to preserve silence, she led the way from the chamber.