CHAPTER VIII.
HOW THE SPANISH PRIEST MEETS WITH A STRANGE ADVENTURE.
The train, which had been released by the Carlists, went on its way, and after running about ten miles, came to a little town. Here a long stay was made, during which information was received of so serious a character that it was resolved, for the present at least, not to go any farther. In the first place, the train which had immediately preceded had halted at the next station beyond, and this train could not move until the other had started; but, in addition to this, there came reports of all sorts, to the effect that the whole country was swarming with Carlists, who had occupied the lines of railroad and cut the telegraph wires. It was the latter circ.u.mstance that was most troublesome, since it made it impossible to get any definite information.
The end of it was, that the pa.s.sengers had to shift for themselves, and find shelter and occupation as best they could, until they should be able to go on to their destinations: of which pa.s.sengers only two need be mentioned here, namely, Captain Lopez and the priest. The former, having been thus rudely separated from Katie, had no object in going any farther, and therefore was quite willing to remain in this place. But it soon appeared that he had plenty to do. He at once set forth to communicate with the civil and military authorities, in the hope of obtaining a.s.sistance toward rescuing Katie from her captivity; and such was his zeal and energy, that before long he had received the most earnest promises of a.s.sistance and co-operation from all to whom he applied. As for the priest aforesaid, he had a different purpose, and that purpose did not lead him to make any effort to procure lodgings. He refreshed himself with a repast at the nearest hosteria, after which, girding up his loins, he left the place by the high-road.
The road at first ran through the plain, where, on every side, there stretched away fields of brown gra.s.s, with flocks of sheep and goats.
The attendants upon these were nowhere visible, and this lack of human life and action gave to the country an indescribable air of solitude and desertion. In other respects, however, there was everything which could gratify the eye and the taste. The land was fertile, the soil cultivated, the scenery beautiful. Tall trees--the mulberry and the poplar--arose in long lines; here and there the cactus stretched forth its th.o.r.n.y arms, and at intervals there appeared the dark green of extensive olive-groves. Behind the traveller there extended a wall of purple hills, and before him arose the giant heights of the Pyrenees. Among these last the road at length entered, and, winding along at the base of sloping hills, it ascended very gradually.
The priest walked onward at a long, slinging pace, which told of the experienced pedestrian. For three hours he kept this up, being too intent upon his progress, and upon his own thoughts, to pay much attention to the scenery, except so far as was needed for purposes of precaution. Save for this, the external form of nature and the many beauties around him were disregarded; and at length, after three hours, he sat down to rest at a rock by the wayside. Sitting here, he drew forth from his pocket a well-used pipe, which he filled and lighted; after which he sat smoking, and surveying, in a contemplative manner, the scene before him.
It was, in truth, a scene well worthy of contemplation. For many a mile the eye of the beholder could rove over the course of the Ebro, and take in the prospect of one of the fairest lands in all the world. He had advanced high enough to overlook the valley, which lay behind him, with lines of hills in the distance, while in front arose the mountains dark in the heavy shade. To the west the country spread away until, in the far distance, it ended in a realm of glory. For here the sun was sinking into a wide basin formed by a break in the lines of mountains, filling it all with fire and splendor; and while the hollow between the hills was thus filled with flame, immediately above this there were piled up vast ma.s.ses of heavy strata clouds, of fantastic shapes and intense blackness. Above these the sky grew clearer, but was still overlaid with thin streaks of cirrus clouds, which were tinted with every hue of the rainbow, and spread over all the western heavens up to the zenith and beyond.
In that low ma.s.s of strata clouds which overhung the sunset there was now a wild convulsion. A storm was raging there, too far away to be felt, but plainly visible. The fantastic shapes were flung together in furious disorder; through the confused ma.s.ses electric flashes shot forth; sometimes in floods of glory, sometimes in straight lines of forked lightning, sometimes in rounded lumps of suddenly revealed fire--the true bolts of Jove. Toward the south the hills lay wrapped in haze and gloom, and in one part there was a heavy shower, where the rain streamed down in vertical lines.
The sun went down, leaving behind it a redder splendor by which all was glorified; the river wound in molten gold; the trees were tipped with purple l.u.s.tre; the crests of the mountains took on aureoles of light. As the sun still descended, the scene was slowly transformed; the splendor lessened; the clouds broke up into other forms; the thick strata ma.s.s dissipated itself; then came a golden haze over the wide west; the moon revealed itself over the head of Scorpio, with Antares beaming from a bright place in the sky.
The scenes shifted rapidly, and twilight deepened, until the clouds made way for the moon, and, breaking up into thin light ma.s.ses, swept away over the sky; while the moon, a.s.suming its proper functions, looked mildly down, and bathed all the valley in a mellow l.u.s.tre.
After about half an hour"s rest, the priest arose, put his pipe in his pocket, and resumed his long stride. Up the road he went, without stopping again, as though he had resolved to cross the Pyrenees in that one night, and be over in France by morning: of whom it might be said, in the words of the Chinese poet,
"That young man walkee no can stop."
Another hour brought him a good four miles farther on, and still he kept up the same pace. He now reached a place where the road took a somewhat sudden turn, and wound around a rocky projection on the lull-side. Here, as he turned, he came full upon a figure that was walking in the opposite direction.
It was the figure of a woman; and in that bright moonshine it was easy to see that she was young, and graceful, and light, and elastic.
Coming suddenly upon the priest as she did, at the turn in the road, she was evidently quite terrified. Her att.i.tude was that of a stealthy fugitive; and as she met him there was, in her sudden involuntary gesture, the appearance of one who has been captured by a pursuer. For an instant she recoiled in an agony of terror, but then one glance at the costume of the priest seemed to rea.s.sure her; and then, clasping her hands, she came nearer, and said, in tremulous tones:
"_Padre! padre! per l"amor de Dios soccorre me_!"
The priest looked at her for a few moments in silence. Then he spoke.
"_etez vous Francaise, mademoiselle_?"
The woman shook her head.
"_E ella Italiana_?"
Again she shook her head.
"_Sind sie Deutsch_?"
Another shake of the head, and then she said:
"_Yo soy Inglesa_."
The priest gave a long whistle.
"English!" he cried; "English! Then in future please be kind enough to speak English, for your Spanish--is--well, declined, with thanks."
At these words the woman started, and then, with an uncontrollable impulse, seized the hand of the priest in a convulsive grasp.
"Oh!" she cried, "are you really--really an Englishman? Oh, thank Heaven! thank Heaven! Then you will help me!"
"English?" said the priest; "well, for the matter of that, I"m anything you please just now, in this infernal country. I certainly do speak English, but at the same time I prefer calling myself what I am--namely, an American."
This loquacity of the priest made no impression upon the woman, who was absorbed now by her one idea of escape, of obtaining help, of flight.
"Oh, sir," she continued, "can you help me? Can I go on by this road?
Do you know what I can do? Will you tell me?"
"Oh yes," said the priest, "I"ll tell you. I do not know what you can do. What can you do? You can read, perhaps, and I suppose you can play the piano, and crochet; but I know what you cannot do--you cannot speak Spanish."
These words were spoken with the indifferent air of one who is thinking of something else.
"Ah, sir," said the woman, in a tone of anguish, "don"t mock at me!
I"m in distress unspeakable. I"ve--I"ve lost my way."
She could scarcely speak from agitation. The priest was silent for a moment. Then he drew a long breath.
"Lost your way?" said he. "Well, that is queer too. Your way--and what way can that be in times like these, and here in this country, and, above all, in this part of the country? Are you walking for a wager? Are you going round the world in a bee-line? Do you carry a portable canoe?"
"I was in the diligence," said the woman, not choosing to notice such ill-timed levity, "and we were stopped--by the Carlists--and I escaped--and I"m trying to find my way to some safe place--but I cannot--I cannot."
"H"m!" said the priest, "that is a coincidence too--just my own case to a T. I"ve been captured by the Carlists too, and I"ve escaped, and I"m now making a bolt for a place of safety. Well, this does beat my grandmother, I must say!"
The lady was too full of her own troubles to notice the peculiar expressions of the priest. She merely continued, as before, to beg for help.
"Oh, sir," said she, "do you know the way here? and can you help me?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Coming Suddenly Upon The Priest, She Was Evidently Quite Terrified."]
"Well," said the priest, "I know some of it, I may say, but that depends on what you mean by knowing it. But will you allow me to ask you one or two questions? In the first place, where did you come from last?"
"Last?" said the lady; "the last place I came from was Barcelona."
"When?"