"I made no effort to look beautiful, but over my simple white dress threw a lace mantilla, fastening it to my head with cl.u.s.ters of tea roses, and allowing it to sweep over my person, black and shadowy, like the thoughts that haunted my mind. This was a common dress among the Spanish ladies, and I put it on that day for the first time, thinking to escape the observation that a foreign costume was sure to provoke. Miss Eaton gave an exclamation of delight when I went down to the parlor. If any thing could inspire her to enthusiasm it was a novelty in dress.
""Oh, how charming! And you have turned Spaniard," she said, clasping her little hands and examining me from head to foot, in a sort of rapture. "Ain"t she splendid, Mr. Harrington! Those crimson roses look superb in the black lace. I am sick of my bonnet. Just hold my parasol while I make myself a senorita also."
"She ran out of the room, s.n.a.t.c.hing some orange blossoms from a vase as she went, and sending back soft gushes of an opera song to us.
""What a light-hearted creature she is," said Harrington, watching her with admiring eyes as she floated off. "A lovely face, don"t you think so?"
""Yes, I think so, a very lovely face."
"Perhaps some of the bitterness in my heart found its way through my voice. Something there was which disturbed James Harrington. He turned and looked at me keenly, seemed about to make some reply, but checked himself and began to play with the coral handle of Lucy"s parasol.
Directly, Lucy Eaton came back more like a summer cloud than ever, for over her head she had thrown a veil of Brussels point, delicate as a mist, and white as frost. But for her canary colored gloves and blue ribbons, she would have appeared in absolute bridal costume, for she had twisted the orange blossoms into a pretty garland which held the veil or mantilla over her head, and was blushing like a rose with a sense of her own completeness.
"We started for the public square through which the procession was to pa.s.s. The streets were full of people, men, women, and children, all in their richest costume, and brilliant with expectation. Every woman had the national fall of lace on her head, almost invariably fastened with cl.u.s.ters of natural roses; some of these mantillas were marvels of costly work, and fell shadow-like over those soft summer dresses, giving them a graceful and cloud-like lightness. All Seville was on foot, no carriages are permitted in the street during the holy week. Poor and rich were, for the time, on a perfect level, and each came forth well dressed and radiant, to honor the most interesting spectacle known to the nation. It was like looking down on an out door opera when we entered the queint stone balcony reserved for us, with fresh palm leaves interwoven in the carved work, and cushioned chairs waiting for our occupation. No flower garden was ever more radiant and blooming.
Hundreds of colored parasols swayed towards the sun like mammoth poppies, gay fans kept the air in perpetual motion. Pretty white hands twinkled recognition from friend to friend; floating lace gave a cloud-like softness to the whole scene, indescribably beautiful. All was eagerness and gay commotion. On the outskirts of the square, hors.e.m.e.n with arms at their sides, were stationed like statues. The balconies were hung with gorgeously tinted draperies, crowded with beautiful women and garlanded with flowers.
"One balcony, more s.p.a.cious than the rest, was richly ornamented with draperies of crimson velvet falling from a gilded crown over head, and drawn back by cords of heavy bullion. A flight of steps led to this balcony from the street, and altogether it had a look of regal magnificence which drew the general attention that way.
"While we were occupied with this novel scene, a hum and murmur of voices drew the general attention toward one of the princ.i.p.al streets entering the square. This was followed by a general commotion in the crowd, through which a murmur, like that of hiving bees, ran to and fro; ladies stood up, parasols swayed confusedly, expectation was in every face.
"Directly the cause of all this excitement became apparent. The Infanta had entered the square, and was approaching the royal balcony. She was a lovely woman, very young and in the full bloom of her beauty, dark-eyed, dark-haired, well formed, and carrying herself with queenly dignity, which it is said the sovereign herself does not equal. The slanting sunbeams fell directly upon her as she pa.s.sed by our balcony in full state; the train of her dress, blue as the sky, and looped with cl.u.s.ters of pink roses, was carried by four n.o.blemen, all richly attired, as if the street had been some palace hall. Her dress was looped back at the shoulders with aigrette of diamonds, whose pendent sparks dropped half way to the elbow, quivering like fire from beneath the long white mantilla that swept over her person as sweeps the blue of a summer sky.
The veil was fastened to her graceful head by a tiara of the same pure gems, which twinkled through it like starlight on frost. Her walk was queenly, her look full of sweet womanliness. They tell me she is prettier and more popular than the queen, and I can readily believe it, for this young creature is very lovely.
"The steps of the royal balcony descended directly to the pavement. The Infanta mounted them, gliding upward with the grace of a bird of paradise, followed by her train-bearers. Directly after she was seated, the balcony filled from a room beyond it, into which the royal party had a.s.sembled. Le Duc de Montpensier, his sister, Princess Clementina, and her husband, the Duke of Saxe Coburg, the cousin of Prince Albert of England, and two or three pretty children, mingled with the group, giving it a domestic grace pleasant to contemplate."
CHAPTER XLV.
THE PROCESSION OF THE MADONNAS.
"Now the procession commenced. Lines of solemn monks, with their gray gowns fastened at the waist with rope girdles, came out of their monasteries and reverently followed the particular Madonna worshipped by their order, as she was carried around, standing on a platform carpeted with velvet, dressed sumptuously, like a woman of the world. Some of these Madonnas were covered with jewels richer and in greater profusion than those worn by the Infanta herself. One, our Lady of Montes Serat, was elevated on a platform ten feet long, carried by eight stalwart priests. The platform was carpeted with crimson velvet, ornamented at the sides with heavy bullion fringe. Her black velvet robe was studded with diamonds over the whole length of its ample and flowing train. This swept back to the verge of the platform in heavy folds, while adown the front was one maze of jewels, covering the velvet so thickly that you could scarcely see it. A mantilla of such lace as cannot be bought for gold, fell over her shoulders, and in her stiff hand she carried a marvel of point lace which, with a living person, would have answered for a pocket handkerchief.
"Six tall tapers of white wax shed their refulgence over the image, lighting up all its wealth of jewels, and its sweeping draperies into wonderful magnificence. The platform was strewn with garlands and freshly gathered roses, which perfumed the air as she pa.s.sed through thousands and thousands who looked upon her with smiles of wonder and adoration.
"Just as this particular Madonna came slowly in sight, a glorious sunset poured its last beams upon us, filling the square with an atmosphere of sifted gold. In the midst of this refulgence, and just as our Lady of Montes Serat was approaching the royal balcony, a strange scene surprised us.
"The worshipers of a rival Madonna, composed of priests in sweeping robes that trailed along the street some ten or fifteen feet, and tall caps, like extinguishers, on the head--crowded so close upon our Lady of Montes Serat, that the whole procession was thrown into confusion. One priest trod on the trailing garments of another, forcing him back against his brethren. Bitter rivalry between the followers of both Madonnas was at work. The two images were crowded together and hustled before the balcony in which the Infanta sat, surrounded by her royal guests; but the priests still in confusion broke line and fell upon each other, dealing blows that might have come from prize-fighters. The guard took alarm, swords flashed from their scabbards. A wild cry arose from the crowd. The tornado of a great panic swept over it, and while we looked on terrified, a cloud of dust, a few troopers riding madly about with drawn swords, and the rival Madonnas, standing stiff and stately before the Infanta"s balcony, were all that remained of the crowd, or the pageant.
"The square was empty, but every street leading to it was closed up with frightened people. The Infanta arose, knelt first to one virgin, then to the other, with impartial homage, and one of her officers gave some order from a window of the house. Instantly every lamp in the square blazed into brilliant light, and the people came crowding back rapidly as they had left. The priests fell into line, and the Infanta, sweeping down those balcony steps with her four train bearers, placed herself in front of our Lady of Montes Serat, and led the procession forward in her own person.
"When the panic was at its height, and the rush of people underneath our balcony was like a stampede of wild animals, I felt myself growing faint, and looked around for something to rest against. That instant an arm supported me and a voice whispered, "Do not be frightened, you are safe."
"I started from his arms lest he should feel the quick beating of my heart, and replied quickly that I was not afraid.
"He left me then, and I could have cried with vexation at receiving his kindness so ungraciously. What must he think of me?
"While I was blaming myself and wondering how I could redeem this seeming coolness, Mrs. Eaton called James Harrington into the room from which our balcony opened, where she held an animated conversation with him. Lucy remained behind. I noticed that she leaned over the railing and seemed anxious about some one who had evidently been swept off with the crowd, which was then gathering back to the square. Directly I saw her face brighten, and looking downward for the cause saw the young man whom we had met on the steamboat, leaning against a lamp post and looking up to our balcony in an easy, familiar way, that annoyed me.
Still I could not withhold some admiration from the man. He certainly was a splendid creature, formed in the perfection of manly strength, and quite handsome enough to turn the head of a vain girl like Lucy.
"I watched the movements of these two persons listlessly, for the faintness had not quite left me, and they seemed to me like creatures in a dream. I saw Lucy take a note from her bosom and tie it to a spray of orange blossoms which she had been wearing there. This she held a moment carefully in her hands, then leaning over the railing dropped it.
"Had her mother called James Harrington away, that Lucy might be left unwatched, to give this signal to her strange admirer? All this seemed like it. How innocent she looked when James came back to the balcony! No sunshine ever touched a red rose more sweetly than the smile settled on her lips when he came and bent over her chair."
CHAPTER XLVI.
WHERE WE SAW THE DUKE.
"The Holy Week is over, carriages once more appear in the streets. The world claims its own again. I have been to a bull fight and am even now shivering with disgust of myself. Still, it was a magnificent spectacle--that grand amphitheatre of beautiful faces, the hilarity and gay confusion, the open homage, the child-like enjoyment. Until these wild, brave animals came bounding into the arena, there was nothing in the scene which any out-door amus.e.m.e.nt might not exhibit. Indeed, the gathering of an a.s.sembly in Spain is full of spirited life. If a woman is beautiful, a hundred voices tell her so as she presents herself to the general gaze. When our party entered the amphitheatre, a general murmur of admiring comments hailed us. Beautiful--superb--fair as a lily--bright as an angel! were the exclamations that followed that lovely creature as she moved to her seat, leaning upon James Harrington"s arm. No wonder he looked proud of her!
"Mrs. Harrington did not care to see a scene so revolting, and I would have stayed at home gladly, but they refused to hear of it, reason as I might. It seems as if they were determined to chain me like a slave to this girl"s chariot wheels. Well, I can endure it. There must have been thousands of persons present, for the great amphitheatre was full long before the Infanta appeared with her family and her royal guests. She was received with exclamations, and took her seat with a slight bow of recognition and a smile full of eloquent thanks for the popular favor so pleasantly manifested. Two or three lovely children were in the box, evidently eager for the fighting to commence. Soon after the Infanta was seated, a man richly dressed, and of n.o.ble presence, strode across the arena, flung his cap on the ground, and made a profound bow to the royal party. The Infanta arose, leaned a little forward and cast a golden key at his feet. This key was to unlock the door which connected the arena with the compartment outside, in which the wild bulls were kept.
"All this time the man had stood with his back toward us. When he stooped to pick up the key and turned from the presence, Lucy Eaton uttered a faint cry, and her mother caught hold of my arm with a grasp that pained me. "Oh mercy--oh mercy! It is--it is the Duke," she exclaimed, "What can he be doing there?"
""I think it is his place," I answered in a low voice. "Hush, I would say nothing about it."
"I looked at Lucy. She was white as snow, and her eyes dwelt on the man with a frightened stare.
""Why is he there?" she whispered, shivering perceptibly. "Tell me, if you can, what it means."
""What are you inquiring about?" questioned General Harrington, bending toward us with suave politeness. "Anything that I can tell you?"
""Who is that man?" I inquired, observing that Lucy could not speak without bursting into tears.
""Which man?"
""That person in the arena, who was just bowing to the Infanta."
""Oh that man? He is the chief matadore. The best bull-fighter in all Spain."
""A matadore, a bull fighter!" almost shrieked Mrs. Eaton, turning upon her daughter and s.n.a.t.c.hing a moss rose from her bosom where it held the folds of her muslin dress together. "Fling it away, child. Pitch it after him. The humbug--the impostor--the--the--"
"Here the good woman broke down for want of breath, and rattled her fan open with a vicious twist of the hand, as if she longed to box some one"s ears with it.
"I saw that Lucy was troubled and that her lips were quivering. General Harrington had turned his attention to the arena, for that moment the matadore was crossing towards a door in the wall, and the first wild bull was expected momentarily. He was so absorbed that he did not heed Mrs. Eaton"s angry exclamations, though her husband did.
""What is the matter, mother. Why, you will smash that fan to flinders; it cost--"
""No matter how much it cost," said Mrs. Eaton; "I don"t think these Spaniards care about that, or anything else but cheating the very eyes out of your head. The impostors!"
""Why, who has been cheating us, mother?"
""Never you mind. Oh mercy!"