but beside the bed was a desk before a picture, four feet high, representing St. Ignatius de Loyola as a fine young man, more calculated to irritate the sense than to arouse devotion.My cobbler said to me,
"I have a much better lodging than I had before; and the rent of your room pays me for the house four times over." "How about the furniture and the linen?"
"It will all be paid in the course of four years. I hope this house will be the dower of my daughter. It is an excellent speculation, and
I have to thank you for it."
"I am glad to hear it; but what is this, you seem to be making new boots?"
"Quite so; but if you look you will see that I am working on a last which has been given me. In this way I have not to put them on,
nor need I trouble myself whether they fit well or ill."
"How much do you get?" "Thirty reals."
"That's a larger price than usual."
"Yes, but there's a great difference between my work and my leather, and the usual work and leather of the bootmakers."
"Then I will have a last made, and you shall make me a pair of shoes, if you will; but I warn you they must be of the finest skin, and
the soles of morocco."
"They will cost more, and not last so long."
"I can't help that; I can't bear any but the lightest boots."
Before I left him he said his daughter should dine with me that day as he was very busy.
I called on the Count of Aranda, who received me coldly, but with great politeness. I told him how I had been treated by my parish priest and by Mengs.
"I heard about it; this was worse than your imprisonment, and I don't know what I could have done for you if you had not communicated, and obliged the priest to take out your name. Just now they are trying to annoy me with posters on the walls, but I take no notice."
"What do they want your excellency to do?"
"To allow long cloaks and low-crowned hats; you must know all about it."
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"I only arrived at Madrid yesterday evening."
"Very good. Don't come here on Sunday, as my house is to be blown up." "I should like to see that, my lord, so I will be in your hall at noon."
"I expect you will be in good company."
I duly went, and never had I seen it so full. The count was addressing the company, under the last poster threatening him with death, two very energetic lines were inscribed by the person who put up the poster, knowing that he was at the same time running his head into the noose:
Si me cogen, me horqueran, Pero no me cogeran.
"If they catch me, they will hang me, So I shall not let them catch me."
At dinner Donna Ignazia told me how glad she was to have me in the house, but she did not respond to all my amorous speeches after Philippe had left the room. She blushed and sighed, and then being obliged to say something, begged me to forget everything that had passed between us. I smiled, and said that I was sure she knew she was asking an impossibility. I added that even if I could forget the past I would not do so.
I knew that she was neither false nor hypocritical, and felt sure that her behaviour proceeded from devotion; but I knew this could not last long. I should have to conquer her by slow degrees. I had had to do so with other devotees who had loved me less than she, nevertheless, they had capitulated. I was therefore sure of Donna Ignazia.
After dinner she remained a quarter of an hour with me, but I refrained from any amorous attempts.
After my siesta I dressed, and went out without seeing her. In the evening when she came in for her father, who had supped with me, I treated her with the greatest politeness without shewing any ill-humour. The following day I behaved in the same manner. At din-ner she told me she had broken with her lover at the beginning of Lent, and begged me not to see him if he called on me.
On Whit Sunday I called on the Count of Aranda, and Don Diego, who was exquisitely dressed, dined with me. I saw nothing of his daughter. I asked after her, and Don Diego replied, with a smile, that she had shut herself up in her room to celebrate the Feast of Pentecost. He pronounced these words in a manner and with a smile that he would not have dared to use if he had been speaking to a fellow-Spaniard. He added that she would, no doubt, come down and sup with me, as he was going to sup with his brother.
"My dear Don Diego, don't let there be any false compliments between us. Before you go out, tell your daughter not to put herself out for me, and that I do not pretend to put my society in comparison with that of God. Tell her to keep her room tonight, and she can sup with me another time. I hope you will take my message to her."
"As you will have it so, you shall be obeyed."
After my siesta, the worthy man said that Donna Ignazia thanked me and would profit by my kindness, as she did not want to see
anyone on that holy day.
"I am very glad she has taken me at my word, and tomorrow I will thank her for it."
I had some difficulty in shaping my lips to this reply; for this excess of devotion displeased me, and even made me tremble for her love. I could not help laughing, however, when Don Diego said that a wise father forgives an ecstasy of love. I had not expected such a philosophic remark from the mouth of a Spaniard.
The weather was unpleasant, so I resolved to stay indoors. I told Philippe that I should not want the carriage, and that he could go out. I told my Biscayan cook that I should not sup till ten. When I was alone I wrote for some time, and in the evening the mother lit my candles, instead of the daughter, so in the end I went to bed without any supper. At nine o'clock next morning, just as I was awaking, Donna Ignazia appeared, to my great astonishment, telling me how sorry she was to hear that I had not taken any supper.
"Alone, sad, and unhappy," I replied, "I felt that abstinence was the best thing for me."
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"You look downcast."
"You alone can make me look cheerful."
Here my barber came in, and she left me. I then went to mass at the Church of the Good Success, where I saw all the handsome courtezans in Madrid. I dined with Don Diego, and when his daughter came in with dessert he told her that it was her fault I had gone supperless to bed.
"It shall not happen again," said she.
"Would you like to come with me to our Lady of Atocha?" said I.
"I should like it very much," she replied, with a side-glance at her father.
"My girl," said Don Diego, "true devotion and merriment go together, and the reason is that the truly devout person has trust in God and in the honesty of all men. Thus you can trust in Don Jaime as an honest man, though he has not the good fortune to be born in Spain."
I could not help laughing at this last sentence, but Don Diego was not offended. Donna Ignazia kissed her father's hands, and asked if she might bring her cousin too.
