I daily expected, and in the mean time took possession of the key. I bought a small chest, which I conveyed to my lodgings, and having removed my cavalier’s dress from the convent, locked it up. I then remained quiet as before, not only to avoid suspicion, but to ingratiate myself with the superior by my supposed reformation.
After a few days I sallied forth, and leaving a note for one of the most skilful perruquiers of Seville, desired him to call at my lodgings at an hour indicated. Having repaired there to be ready to receive him, I took off my monk’s dress and false tonsure, which I locked up in my chest; I tied a silk handkerchief round my head and got into bed, leaving my cavalier’s suit on the chair near to me. The perruquier knocked at the appointed time. I desired him to come in, apologised for my servant being absent on a message, and stating that I had been obliged to shave my head on account of a fever, from which I had now recovered, requested that he would provide me with a handsome wig. I explained at his request the colour and description of hair which I had lost; and in so doing, represented it as much lighter than my own really was, and similar to that of the young officer, whose ringlets had been the cause of my last disaster. I paid him a part of the price down, and having agreed upon the exact time at which it should be delivered, he departed; when I rose from my bed, I resumed my monastic dress and tonsure, and returned to the convent.
During the whole of the time occupied by these transactions, I had been assiduous in laying up money, which before I had squandered as fast as I obtained it, and had realised a considerable sum. I could not help comparing myself to a chrysalis previous to its transformation. I had before been a caterpillar, I was now all ready to burst my confinement, and flit about as a gaudy butterfly. Another week I continued my prudent conduct, at the end of which I was admitted to my superior, in whose hands I placed a sum of money which I could very conveniently spare, and received his benediction and commendations for having weaned myself from my former excesses. With a quickened pulse I hastened to my lodgings, and throwing off my hateful gown and tonsure, dressed myself in my new attire.
The transformation was complete. I could not recognise myself. I hardly could believe that the dashing young cavalier that confronted me in the mirror was the brother Anselmo. “Is this a face,” said I, communing with myself, “to be disfigured with a vile tonsure? are these limbs to be hid under the repulsive garment of a monk?” Again I surveyed myself, and it was with difficulty that I could tear myself away from contemplating my metamorphosis. I was indeed a butterfly. At last I determined upon sallying forth. I locked up my monastic dress and descended the staircase. I must acknowledge that it was with trepidation I ventured into the street, but I had soon reason to take confidence, for I was met by one of my most intimate friends, who looked in my face and passed on without the slightest recognition. Overjoyed at this circumstance, I took courage, and boldly proceeded to the Prado, where I was greeted with favourable glances from the women, and sneers from the men, both of which I considered equally flattering. In the evening I returned to my lodgings, resumed the habit of my order, and gained the convent. I now felt that there was no chance of discovery, and anticipated the happiness which had been denied me. I subsequently ordered the most fashionable and expensive clothes, hired my lodgings for six months, assumed the name of Don Pedro, made the acquaintance of many young men, and amongst others of the officer who had treated me so ill. He took a fancy to me, which I encouraged to further my views. I became his confidant, he informed me of his amour with his cousin, adding that he was tired of the business, and wished to break with her; also, as an excellent joke, the punishment which he had inflicted upon the friar Anselmo.
He was a great proficient with the small sword, an accomplishment which, of course, had been neglected in my education, and which I accounted for by stating, that until the death of my elder brother I had been intended for the church. I accepted his offer to be my instructor, and my first rudiments in the science were received from him. Afterwards I applied to a professor, and constantly practising, in the course of a few months I knew, from occasional trials of skill with the officer, that I was his superior. My revenge, which hitherto had been controlled, was now ripe.
But in narrating my adventures abroad, it must not be supposed that I neglected every thing that prudence or caution could suggest to avoid discovery. On the contrary, now that I had the means of enjoying myself, I was more careful that I did not by any indiscretion excite surmises. I generally devoted four days out of the seven in the week to the convent and to my professional occupation as music-master. To increase the difficulty of identification, I became more serious in my manner, more dirty in my person, as the brother Anselmo. I pretended to have imbibed a fancy for snuff, with which I soiled my face and monastic attire, and seldom if ever spoke, or if I did, in a very solemn voice. So far from suspicion, I every day gained more and more the good will of the superior. My absence in the day-time was not noticed, as it was known that I gave lessons in music, and my irregularity during the night was a secret between the porter and myself.
I hardly need observe that, as Don Pedro, I always lamented not having been gifted with a voice, and have even in the presence of my companions, sent a billet to brother Anselmo to serenade a lady whom I courted as Don Pedro. I do not believe until ulterior circumstances, that there was ever in the mind of any the slightest idea that, under my dissimilar habits, I was one and the same person.
But to continue: one day the young officer, whose name was Don Lopez, informed me that he did not know how to act; he was so pestered with the jealousy and reproaches of his mistress, and requested my advice as to how to proceed. I laughed at his dilemma. “My dear Lopez,” replied I, “introduce me to her, and depend upon it that she will give you no more trouble. I will make love to her, and pleased with her new conquest she will soon forget you.”
“My good fellow,” replied he, “your advice is excellent: will you come with me this afternoon?”
Once more I was in the presence of her whom I had loved, but loved no more, for I now only felt and lived for revenge. She had not the most distant recognition of me. Piqued as she was with Don Lopez, and fascinated with my exertions to please, I soon gained an interest; but she still loved him between the paroxysms of her hate. Trying all she could to recover him at one moment, and listening to my attentions at another, he at last accused her of perfidy and took his leave for ever. Then her violence broke out, and as a proof of my attachment, she demanded that I should call him to account. I wished no better, and pretending to be so violently attached to her that I was infatuated, I took occasion of his laughing at me to give him the lie, and demand satisfaction. As it was in the presence of others, there was no recal or explanation allowed. We met by agreement, alone, in the very field where I received my chastisement; I brought with me my monastic habit and tonsure, which I concealed before his arrival among the very nettles which he had gathered for my chastisement. The conflict was not long; after a few thrusts and parries he lay dying at my feet. I immediately threw over my dress that of the friar, and exchanging the wig for the tonsure, stood by him. He opened his eyes, which had closed from the fainting occasioned by the sudden gush from his wound, and looked at me with amazement.
“Yes, Don Lopez,” said I, “in Don Pedro behold the friar Anselmo; he whom you scourged with nettles; he who has revenged the insult.” I then threw off the monk’s dress, and exposed to him the other beneath it, and changing my tonsure for the wig, “Now you are convinced of the truth,” added I, “and now I have my revenge.”
“I am, I am,” replied he faintly; “but if you have slain me as Don Pedro, now that I am dying I entreat you, as brother Anselmo, to give me absolution. Carry not your revenge so far as to deny me this.”
I could not refuse, and I gave absolution in the one costume to the man who had fallen by my hand in the other: for my own part I thought it was an absurdity, but my revenge was satisfied, and I would not refuse him such a poor consolation.
A few minutes afterwards he expired, and I hastened to my lodgings, changed my dress, and repaired to the convent, where as Don Pedro I wrote to Donna Sophia, in forming her of what had taken place, and of my having absconded until the hue and
