John Bull on the Guadalquivir

by Anthony Trollope

　　I am an Englishman, living, as all Englishman should do, in England,and my wife would not, I think, be well pleased were any one toinsinuate that she were other than an Englishwoman; but in thecircumstances of my marriage I became connected with the south ofSpain, and the narrative which I am to tell requires that I shouldrefer to some of those details.The Pomfrets and Daguilars have long been in trade together in thiscountry, and one of the partners has usually resided at Seville forthe sake of the works which the firm there possesses. My father,James Pomfret, lived there for ten years before his marriage; andsince that and up to the present period, old Mr. Daguilar has alwaysbeen on the spot. He was, I believe, born in Spain, but he came veryearly to England; he married an English wife, and his sons had beeneducated exclusively in England. His only daughter, Maria Daguilar,did not pass so large a proportion of her early life in this country,but she came to us for a visit at the age of seventeen, and when shereturned I made up my mind that I most assuredly would go after her.So I did, and she is now sitting on the other side of the fireplacewith a legion of small linen habiliments in a huge basket by herside.I felt, at the first, that there was something lacking to make my cupof love perfectly delightful. It was very sweet, but there waswanting that flower of romance which is generally added to theheavenly draught by a slight admixture of opposition. I feared thatthe path of my true love would run too smooth. When Maria came toour house, my mother and elder sister seemed to be quite willing thatI should be continually alone with her; and she had not been thereten days before my father, by chance, remarked that there was nothingold Mr. Daguilar valued so highly as a thorough feeling of intimatealliance between the two families which had been so long connected intrade. I was never told that Maria was to be my wife, but I feltthat the same thing was done without words; and when, after six weeksof somewhat elaborate attendance upon her, I asked her to be Mrs.John Pomfret, I had no more fear of a refusal, or even of hesitationon her part, than I now have when I suggest to my partner somecommercial transaction of undoubted advantage.But Maria, even at that age, had about her a quiet sustained decisionof character quite unlike anything I had seen in English girls. Iused to hear, and do still hear, how much more flippant is theeducation of girls in France and Spain than in England; and I knowthat this is shown to be the result of many causes--the RomanCatholic religion being, perhaps, chief offender; but, nevertheless,I rarely see in one of our own young women the same power of a self-sustained demeanour as I meet on the Continent. It goes no deeperthan the demeanour, people say. I can only answer that I have notfound that shallowness in my own wife.Miss Daguilar replied to me that she was not prepared with an answer;she had only known me six weeks, and wanted more time to think aboutit; besides, there was one in her own country with whom she wouldwish to consult. I knew she had no mother; and as for consulting oldMr. Daguilar on such a subject, that idea, I knew, could not havetroubled her. Besides, as I afterwards learned, Mr. Daguilar hadalready proposed the marriage to his partner exactly as he would haveproposed a division of assets. My mother declared that Maria was afoolish chit--in which by-the-bye she showed her entire ignorance ofMiss Daguilar's character; my eldest sister begged that no constraintmight he put on the young lady's inclinations--which provoked me toassert that the young lady's inclinations were by no means opposed tomy own; and my father, in the coolest manner suggested that thematter might stand over for twelve months, and that I might then goto Seville, and see about it! Stand over for twelve months! Wouldnot Maria, long before that time, have been snapped up and carriedoff by one of those inordinately rich Spanish grandees who are stillto be met with occasionally in Andalucia?My father's dictum, however, had gone forth; and Maria, in thecalmest voice, protested that she thought it very wise. I should beless of a boy by that time, she said, smiling on me, but drivingwedges between every fibre of my body as she spoke. "Be it so," Isaid, proudly. "At any rate, I am not so much of a boy that I shallforget you." "And, John, you still have the trade to learn," sheadded, with her deliciously foreign intonation--speaking very slowly,but with perfect pronunciation. The trade to learn! However, I saidnot a word, but stalked out of the room, meaning to see her no morebefore she went. But I could not resist attending on her in the hallas she started; and, when she took leave of us, she put her face upto be kissed by me, as she did by my father, and seemed to receive asmuch emotion from one embrace as from the other. "He'll go out bythe packet of the 1st April," said my father, speaking of me asthough I were a bale of goods. "Ah! that will be so nice," saidMaria, settling her dress in the carriage; "the oranges will be ripefor him then!"On the 17th April I did sail, and felt still very like a bale ofgoods. I had received one letter from her, in which she merelystated that her papa would have a room ready for me on my arrival;and, in answer to that, I had sent an epistle somewhat longer, and,as I then thought, a little more to the purpose. Her turn of mindwas more practical than mine, and I must confess my belief that shedid not appreciate my poetry.I landed at Cadiz, and was there joined by an old family friend, oneof the very best fellows that ever lived. He was to accompany me upas far as Seville; and, as he had lived for a year or two at Xeres,was supposed to be more Spanish almost than a Spaniard. His name wasJohnson, and he was in the wine trade; and whether for travelling orwhether for staying at home--whether for paying you a visit in yourown house, or whether for entertaining you in his--there never was(and I am prepared to maintain there never will be) a stancherfriend, choicer companion, or a safer guide than Thomas Johnson.Words cannot produce a eulogium sufficient for his merits. But, as Ihave since learned, he was not quite so Spanish as I had imagined.Three years among the bodegas of Xeres had taught him, no doubt, toappreciate the exact twang of a good, dry sherry; but not, as I nowconceive, the exactest flavour of the true Spanish character. I wasvery lucky, however, in meeting such a friend, and now reckon him asone of the stanchest allies of the house of Pomfret, Daguilar, andPomfret.He met me at Cadiz, took me about the town, which appeared to me tobe of no very great interest;--though the young ladies were all verywell. But, in this respect, I was then a Stoic, till such time as Imight be able to throw myself at the feet of her whom I was ready toproclaim the most lovely of all the Dulcineas of Andalucia. Hecarried me up by boat and railway to Xeres; gave me a most terrificheadache, by dragging me out into the glare of the sun, after I hadtasted some half a dozen different wines, and went through all theordinary hospitalities. On the next day we returned to Puerto, andfrom thence getting across to St. Lucar and Bonanza, found ourselveson the banks of the Guadalquivir, and took our places in the boat forSeville. I need say but little to my readers respecting that far-famed river. Thirty years ago we in England generally believed thaton its banks was to be found a pure elysium of pastoral beauty; thatpicturesque shepherds and lovely maidens here fed their flocks infields of asphodel; that the limpid stream ran cool and crystal overbright stones and beneath perennial shade; and that every thing onthe Guadalquivir was as lovely and as poetical as its name. Now, itis pretty widely known that no uglier river oozes down to its bournin the sea through unwholesome banks of low mud. It is brown anddirty; ungifted by any scenic advantage; margined for miles uponmiles by huge, flat, expansive fields, in which cattle are reared,--the bulls wanted for the bullfights among other; and birds of preysit constant on the shore, watching for the carcases of such as die.Such are the charms of the golden Guadalquivir.At first we were very dull on board that steamer. I never foundmyself in a position in which there was less to do. There was anasty smell about the little boat which made me almost ill; everyturn in the river was so exactly like the last, that we might havebeen standing still; there was no amusement except eating, and that,when once done, was not of a kind to make an early repetitiondesirable. Even Johnson was becoming dull, and I began to doubtwhether I was so desirous as I once had been to travel the length andbreadth of all Spain. But about noon a little incident occurredwhich did for a time remove some of our tedium. The boat had stoppedto take in passengers on the river; and, among others, a man had comeon board dressed in a fashion that, to my eyes, was equally strangeand picturesque. Indeed, his appearance was so singular, that Icould not but regard him with care, though I felt at first averse tostare at a fellow-passenger on account of his clothes. He was a manof about fifty, but as active apparently as though not more thantwenty five; he was of low stature, but of admirable make; his hairwas just becoming grizzled, but was short and crisp and well caredfor; his face was prepossessing, having a look of good humour addedto courtesy, and there was a pleasant, soft smile round his mouthwhich ingratiated one at the first sight. But it was his dressrather than his person which attracted attention. He wore theordinary Andalucian cap--of which such hideous parodies are nowmaking themselves common in England--but was not contented with theusual ornament of the double tuft. The cap was small, and jaunty;trimmed with silk velvet--as is common here with men careful to adorntheir persons; but this man's cap was finished off with a jewelledbutton and golden filigree work. He was dressed in a short jacketwith a stand up collar; and that also was covered with golden buttonsand with golden button-holes. It was all gilt down the front, andall lace down the back. The rows of buttons were double; and thoseof the more backward row hung down in heavy pendules. His waistcoatwas of coloured silk--very pretty to look at; and ornamented with asmall sash, through which gold threads were worked. All the buttonsof his breeches also were of gold; and there were gold tags to allthe button-holes. His stockings were of the finest silk, and clockedwith gold from the knee to the ankle.Dress any Englishman in such a garb and he will at once give you theidea of a hog in armour. In the first place he will lack the properspirit to carry it off, and in the next place the motion of his limbswill disgrace the ornaments they bear. "And so best," mostEnglishmen will say. Very likely; and, therefore, let no Englishmantry it. But my Spaniard did not look at like a hog in armour. Hewalked slowly down the plank into the boat, whistling lowly but veryclearly a few bars from a opera tune. It was plain to see that hewas master of himself, of his ornaments, and of his limbs. He had noappearance of thinking that men were looking at him, or of feelingthat he was beauteous in his attire;--nothing could be more naturalthan his foot-fall, or the quiet glance of his cheery gray eye. Hewalked up to the captain, who held the helm, and lightly raised hishand to his cap. The captain, taking one hand from the wheel, didthe same, and then the stranger, turning his back to the stern of thevessel, and fronting down the river with his face, continued towhistle slowly, clearly, and in excellent time. Grand as were hisclothes they were no burden on his mind."What is he?" said I, going up to my friend Johnson with a whisper."Well, I've been looking at him," said Johnson--which was trueenough; "he's a -- an uncommonly good-looking fellow, isn't he?""Particularly so," said I; "and got up quite irrespective of expense.Is he a--a--a gentleman, now, do you think?""Well, those things are so different in Spain that it's almostimpossible to make an Englishman understand them. One learns to knowall this sort of people by being with them in the country, but onecan't explain.""No; exactly. Are they real gold?""Yes, yes; I dare say they are. They sometimes have them silvergilt.""It is quite a common thing, then, isn't it?" asked I."Well, not exactly; that--Ah! yes; I see! of course. He is atorero.""A what?""A mayo. I will explain it all to you. You will see them about inall places, and you will get used to them.""But I haven't seen one other as yet.""No, and they are not all so gay as this, nor so new in their finery,you know.""And what is a torero?""Well, a torero is a man engaged in bull-fighting.""Oh! he is a matador, is he?" said I, looking at him with more thanall my eyes."No, not exactly that;--not of necessity. He is probably a mayo. Afellow that dresses himself smart for fairs, and will be seen hangingabout with the bull-fighters. What would be a sporting fellow inEngland--only he won't drink and curse like a low man on the turfthere. Come, shall we go and speak to him?""I can't talk to him," said I, diffident of my Spanish. I hadreceived lessons in England from Maria Daguilar; but six weeks islittle enough for making love, let alone the learning of a foreignlanguage."Oh! I'll do the talking. You'll find the language easy enoughbefore long. It soon becomes the same as English to you, when youlive among them." And then Johnson, walking up to the stranger,accosted him with that good-natured familiarity with which athoroughly nice fellow always opens a conversation with his inferior.Of course I could not understand the words which were exchanged; butit was clear enough that the "mayo" took the address in good part,and was inclined to be communicative and social."They are all of pure gold," said Johnson, turning to me after aminute, making as he spoke a motion with his head to show theimportance of the information."Are they indeed?" said I. "Where on earth did a fellow like thatget them?" Whereupon Johnson again returned to his conversation withthe man. After another minute he raised his hand, and began tofinger the button on the shoulder; and to aid him in doing so, theman of the bull-ring turned a little on one side."They are wonderfully well made," said Johnson, talking to me, andstill fingering the button. "They are manufactured, he says, atOsuna, and he tells me that they make them better there than anywhereelse.""I wonder what the whole set would cost?" said I. "An enormous dealof money for a fellow like him, I should think!""Over twelve ounces," said Johnson, having asked the question; "andthat will be more than forty pounds.""What an uncommon ass he must be!" said I.As Johnson by this time was very closely scrutinising the whole setof ornaments I thought I might do so also, and going up close to ourfriend, I too began to handle the buttons and tags on the other side.Nothing could have been more good-humoured than he was--so much sothat I was emboldened to hold up his arm that I might see the cut ofhis coat, to take off his cap and examine the make, to stuff myfinger in beneath his sash, and at last to kneel down while Ipersuaded him to hold up his legs that I might look to the clocking.The fellow was thorough good-natured, and why should I not indulge mycuriosity?"You'll upset him if you don't take care," said Johnson; for I hadgot fast hold of him by one ankle, and was determined to finish thesurvey completely."Oh, no, I shan't," said I; "a bull-fighting chap can surely stand onone leg. But what I wonder at is, how on earth he can afford it!"Whereupon Johnson again began to interrogate him in Spanish."He says he has got no children," said Johnson, having received areply, "and that as he has nobody but himself to look after, he isable to allow himself such little luxuries.""Tell him that I say he would be better with a wife and couple ofbabies," said I--and Johnson interpreted."He says that he'll think of it some of these days, when he findsthat the supply of fools in the world is becoming short," saidJohnson.We had nearly done with him now; but after regaining my feet, Iaddressed myself once more to the heavy pendules, which hung downalmost under his arm. I lifted one of these, meaning to feel itsweight between my fingers; but unfortunately I gave a lurch, probablythrough the motion of the boat, and still holding by the button, toreit almost off from our friend's coat."Oh, I am so sorry," I said, in broad English."It do not matter at all," he said, bowing, and speaking with equalplainness. And then, taking a knife from his pocket, he cut thependule off, leaving a bit of torn cloth on the side of his jacket."Upon my word, I am quite unhappy," said I; "but I always am soawkward." Whereupon he bowed low."Couldn't I make it right?" said I, bringing out my purse.He lifted his hand, and I saw that it was small and white; he liftedit and gently put it upon my purse, smiling sweetly as he did so."Thank you, no, senor; thank you, no." And then, bowing to us both,he walked away down into the cabin."Upon my word he is a deuced well-mannered fellow," said I."You shouldn't have offered him money," said Johnson; "a Spaniarddoes not like it.""Why, I thought you could do nothing without money in this country.Doesn't every one take bribes?""Ah! yes; that is a different thing; but not the price of a button.By Jove! he understood English, too. Did you see that?""Yes; and I called him an ass! I hope he doesn't mind it.""Oh! no; he won't think anything about it," said Johnson. "That sortof fellows don't. I dare say we shall see him in the bull-ring nextSunday, and then we'll make all right with a glass of lemonade."And so our adventure ended with the man of the gold ornaments. I wassorry that I had spoken English before him so heedlessly, andresolved that I would never be guilty of such gaucherie again. But,then, who would think that a Spanish bull-fighter would talk aforeign language? I was sorry, also, that I had torn his coat; ithad looked so awkward; and sorry again that I had offered the manmoney. Altogether I was a little ashamed of myself; but I had toomuch to look forward to at Seville to allow any heaviness to remainlong at my heart; and before I had arrived at the marvellous city Ihad forgotten both him and his buttons.Nothing could be nicer than the way in which I was welcomed at Mr.Daguilar's house, or more kind--I may almost say affectionate--thanMaria's manner to me. But it was too affectionate; and I am not surethat I should not have liked my reception better had she been morediffident in her tone, and less inclined to greet me with openwarmth. As it was, she again gave me her cheek to kiss, in herfather's presence, and called me dear John, and asked me speciallyafter some rabbits which I had kept at home merely for a youngersister; and then it seemed as though she were in no way embarrassedby the peculiar circumstances of our position. Twelve months since Ihad asked her to be my wife, and now she was to give me an answer;and yet she was as assured in her gait, and as serenely joyous in hertone, as though I were a brother just returned from college. Itcould not be that she meant to refuse me, or she would not smile onme and be so loving; but I could almost have found it in my heart towish that she would. "It is quite possible," said I to myself, "thatI may not be found so ready for this family bargain. A love that isto be had like a bale of goods is not exactly the love to suit mytaste." But then, when I met her again in the morning I could nomore have quarrelled with her than I could have flown.I was inexpressibly charmed with the whole city, and especially withthe house in which Mr. Daguilar lived. It opened from the corner ofa narrow, unfrequented street--a corner like an elbow--and, as seenfrom the exterior, there was nothing prepossessing to recommend it;but the outer door led by a short hall or passage to an inner door orgrille, made of open ornamental iron-work, and through that weentered a court, or patio, as they I called it. Nothing could bemore lovely or deliciously cool than was this small court. Thebuilding on each side was covered by trellis-work; and beautifulcreepers, vines, and parasite flowers, now in the full magnificenceof the early summer, grew up and clustered round the windows. Everyinch of wall was covered, so that none of the glaring whitewashwounded the eye. In the four corners of the patio were four largeorange-trees, covered with fruit. I would not say a word in specialpraise of these, remembering that childish promise she had made on mybehalf. In the middle of the court there was a fountain, and roundabout on the marble floor there were chairs, and here and there asmall table, as though the space were really a portion of the house.It was here that we used to take our cup of coffee and smoke ourcigarettes, I and old Mr. Daguilar, while Maria sat by, not onlyapproving, but occasionally rolling for me the thin paper round thefragrant weed with her taper fingers. Beyond the patio was an openpassage or gallery, filled also with flowers in pots; and then,beyond this, one entered the drawing-room of the house. It was by nomeans a princely palace or mansion, fit for the owner of untoldwealth. The rooms were not over large nor very numerous; but themost had been made of a small space, and everything had been done torelieve the heat of an almost tropical sun."It is pretty, is it not?" she said, as she took me through it."Very pretty," I said. "I wish we could live in such houses.""Oh, they would not do at all for dear old fat, cold, cozy England.You are quite different, you know, in everything from us in thesouth; more phlegmatic, but then so much steadier. The men and thehouses are all the same."I can hardly tell why, but even this wounded me. It seemed to me asthough she were inclined to put into one and the same category thingsEnglish, dull, useful, and solid; and that she was disposed to show asufficient appreciation for such necessaries of life, though sheherself had another and inner sense--a sense keenly alive to thepoetry of her own southern chime; and that I, as being English, wasto have no participation in this latter charm. An English husbandmight do very well, the interests of the firm might make such anarrangement desirable, such a mariage de convenance--so I argued tomyself--might be quite compatible with--with heaven only knows whatdelights of superterrestial romance, from which I, as being anEnglish thick-headed lump of useful coarse mortality, was to bealtogether debarred. She had spoken to me of oranges, and havingfinished the survey of the house, she offered me some sweet littlecakes. It could not be that of such things were the thoughts whichlay undivulged beneath the clear waters of those deep black eyes--undivulged to me, though no one else could have so good a right toread those thoughts! It could not be that that noble brow gave indexof a mind intent on the trade of which she spoke so often! Words ofother sort than any that had been vouchsafed to me must fall at timesfrom the rich curves of that perfect month.So felt I then, pining for something to make me unhappy. Ah, me! Iknow all about it now, and am content. But I wish that some learnedpundit would give us a good definition of romance, would describe inwords that feeling with which our hearts are so pestered when we areyoung, which makes us sigh for we know not what, and forbids us to becontented with what God sends us. We invest female beauty withimpossible attributes, and are angry because our women have not thespiritualised souls of angels, anxious as we are that they shouldalso be human in the flesh. A man looks at her he would love as at adistant landscape in a mountainous land. The peaks are glorious withmore than the beauty of earth and rock and vegetation. He dreams ofsome mysterious grandeur of design which tempts him on under the hotsun, and over the sharp rock, till he has reached the mountain goalwhich he had set before him. But when there, he finds that thebeauty is well-nigh gone, and as for that delicious mystery on whichhis soul had fed, it has vanished for ever.I know all about it now, and am, as I said, content. Beneath thosedeep black eyes there lay a well of love, good, honest, homely love,love of father and husband and children that were to come--of thatlove which loves to see the loved ones prospering in honesty. Thatnoble brow--for it is noble; I am unchanged in that opinion, and willgo unchanged to my grave--covers thoughts as to the welfare of many,and an intellect fitted to the management of a household, ofservants, namely, and children, and perchance a husband. That mouthcan speak words of wisdom, of very useful wisdom--though of poetry ithas latterly uttered little that was original. Poetry and romance!They are splendid mountain views seen in the distance. So let men becontent to see them, and not attempt to tread upon the fallaciousheather of the mystic hills.In the first week of my sojourn in Seville I spoke no word of overtlove to Maria, thinking, as I confess, to induce her thereby to alterher mode of conduct to myself. "She knows that I have come here tomake love to her--to repeat my offer; and she will at any rate bechagrined if I am slow to do so." But it had no effect. At home mymother was rather particular about her table, and Maria's greatestefforts seemed to be used in giving me as nice dinners as we gaveher. In those days I did not care a straw about my dinner, and so Itook an opportunity of telling her. "Dear me," said she, looking atme almost with grief, "do you not? What a pity! And do you not likemusic either." "Oh, yes, I adore it," I replied. I felt sure at thetime that had I been born in her own sunny clime, she would neverhave talked to me about eating. But that was my mistake.I used to walk out with her about the city, seeing all that is thereof beauty and magnificence. And in what city is there more that isworth the seeing? At first this was very delightful to me, for Ifelt that I was blessed with a privilege that would not be granted toany other man. But its value soon fell in my eyes, for others wouldaccost her, and walk on the other side, talking to her in Spanish, asthough I hardly existed, or were a servant there for her protection.And I was not allowed to take her arm, and thus to appropriate her,as I should have done in England. "No, John," she said, with thesweetest, prettiest smile, "we don't do that here; only when peopleare married." And she made this allusion to married life out,openly, with no slightest tremor on her tongue."Oh, I beg pardon," said I, drawing back my hand, and feeling angrywith myself for not being fully acquainted with all the customs of aforeign country."You need not beg pardon," said she; "when we were in England wealways walked so. It is just a custom, you know." And then I sawher drop her large dark eyes to the ground, and bow gracefully inanswer to some salute.I looked round, and saw that we had been joined by a young cavalier,--a Spanish nobleman, as I saw at once; a man with jet black hair, anda straight nose, and a black moustache, and patent leather boots,very slim and very tall, and--though I would not confess it then--uncommonly handsome. I myself am inclined to be stout, my hair islight, my nose broad, I have no hair on my upper lip, and my whiskersare rough and uneven. "I could punch your head though, my finefellow," said I to myself, when I saw that he placed himself atMaria's side, "and think very little of the achievement."The wretch went on with us round the plaza for some quarter of anhour talking Spanish with the greatest fluency, and she was everywhit as fluent. Of course I could not understand a word that theysaid. Of all positions that a man can occupy, I think that that isabout the most uncomfortable; and I cannot say that, even up to thisday, I have quite forgiven her for that quarter of an hour."I shall go in," said I, unable to bear my feelings, and preparing toleave her. "The heat is unendurable.""Oh dear, John, why did you not speak before?" she answered. "Youcannot leave me here, you know, as I am in your charge; but I will gowith you almost directly." And then she finished her conversationwith the Spaniard, speaking with an animation she had never displayedin her conversations with me.It had been agreed between us for two or three days before this, thatwe were to rise early on the following morning for the sake ofascending the tower of the cathedral, and visiting the Giralda, asthe iron figure is called, which turns upon a pivot on the extremesummit. We had often wandered together up and down the long darkgloomy aisle of the stupendous building, and had, together, seen itstreasury of art; but as yet we had not performed the task which hasto be achieved by all visitors to Seville; and in order that we mighthave a clear view over the surrounding country, and not be tormentedby the heat of an advanced sun, we had settled that we would ascendthe Giralda before breakfast.And now, as I walked away from the plaza towards Mr. Daguilar'shouse, with Maria by my side, I made up my mind that I would settlemy business during this visit to the cathedral. Yes, and I would somanage the settlement that there should be no doubt left as to myintentions and my own ideas. I would not be guilty of shilly-shallyconduct; I would tell her frankly what I felt and what I thought, andwould make her understand that I did not desire her hand if I couldnot have her heart. I did not value the kindness of her manner,seeing that that kindness sprung from indifference rather thanpassion; and so I would declare to her. And I would ask her, also,who was this young man with whom she was intimate--for whom all hervolubility and energy of tone seemed to be employed? She had told meonce that it behoved her to consult a friend in Seville as to theexpediency of her marriage with me. Was this the friend whom she hadwished to consult? If so, she need not trouble herself. Under suchcircumstances I should decline the connection! And I resolved that Iwould find out how this might be. A man who proposes to take a womanto his bosom as his wife, has a right to ask for information--ay, andto receive it too. It flashed upon my mind at this moment that DonnaMaria was well enough inclined to come to me as my wife, but --. Icould hardly define the "buts" to myself, for there were three orfour of them. Why did she always speak to me in a tone of childishaffection, as though I were a schoolboy home for the holidays? Iwould have all this out with her on the tower on the followingmorning, standing under the Giralda.On that morning we met together in the patio, soon after fiveo'clock, and started for the cathedral. She looked beautiful, withher black mantilla over her head, and with black gloves on, and herblack morning silk dress--beautiful, composed, and at her ease, asthough she were well satisfied to undertake this early morning walkfrom feelings of good nature--sustained, probably, by some under-current of a deeper sentiment. Well; I would know all about itbefore I returned to her father's house.There hardly stands, as I think, on the earth, a building moreremarkable than the cathedral of Seville, and hardly one more grand.Its enormous size; its gloom and darkness; the richness ofornamentation in the details, contrasted with the severe simplicityof the larger outlines; the variety of its architecture; the glory ofits paintings; and the wondrous splendour of its metallic decoration,its altar-friezes, screens, rails, gates, and the like, render it, tomy mind, the first in interest among churches. It has not thecoloured glass of Chartres, or the marble glory of Milan, or such aforest of aisles as Antwerp, or so perfect a hue in stone asWestminster, nor in mixed beauty of form and colour does it possessanything equal to the choir of Cologne; but, for combinedmagnificence and awe-compelling grandeur, I regard it as superior toall other ecclesiastical edifices.It is its deep gloom with which the stranger is so greatly struck onhis first entrance. In a region so hot as the south of Spain, a coolinterior is a main object with the architect, and this it has beennecessary to effect by the exclusion of light; consequently thechurch is dark, mysterious, and almost cold. On the morning inquestion, as we entered, it seemed to be filled with gloom, and thedistant sound of a slow footstep here and there beyond the transeptinspired one almost with awe. Maria, when she first met me, hadbegun to talk with her usual smile, offering me coffee and a biscuitbefore I started. "I never eat biscuit," I said, with almost asevere tone, as I turned from her. That dark, horrid man of theplaza--would she have offered him a cake had she been going to walkwith him in the gloom of the morning? After that little had beenspoken between us. She walked by my side with her accustomed smile;but she had, as I flattered myself, begun to learn that I was not tohe won by a meaningless good nature. "We are lucky in our morningfor the view!" that was all she said, speaking with that peculiarlyclear, but slow pronunciation which she had assumed in learning ourlanguage.We entered the cathedral, and, walking the whole length of the aisle,left it again at the porter's porch at the farther end. Here wepassed through a low door on to the stone flight of steps, and atonce began to ascend. "There are a party of your countrymen upbefore us," said Maria; "the porter says that they went through thelodge half an hour since." "I hope they will return before we are onthe top," said I, bethinking myself of the task that was before me.And indeed my heart was hardly at ease within me, for that which Ihad to say would require all the spirit of which I was master.The ascent to the Giralda is very long and very fatiguing; and we hadto pause on the various landings and in the singular belfry in orderthat Miss Daguilar might recruit her strength and breath. As werested on one of these occasions, in a gallery which runs round thetower below the belfry, we heard a great noise of shouting, and aclattering of sticks among the bells. "It is the party of yourcountrymen who went up before us," said she. "What a pity thatEnglishmen should always make so much noise!" And then she spoke inSpanish to the custodian of the bells, who is usually to be found ina little cabin up there within the tower. "He says that they went upshouting like demons," continued Maria; and it seemed to me that shelooked as though I ought to be ashamed of the name of an Englishman."They may not be so solemn in their demeanour as Spaniards," Ianswered; "but, for all that, there may be quite as much in them."We then again began to mount, and before we had ascended much fartherwe passed my three countrymen. They were young men, with gray coatsand gray trousers, with slouched hats, and without gloves. They hadfair faces and fair hair, and swung big sticks in their hands, withcrooked handles. They laughed and talked loud, and, when we metthem, seemed to be racing with each other; but nevertheless they weregentlemen. No one who knows by sight what an English gentleman is,could have doubted that; but I did acknowledge to myself that theyshould have remembered that the edifice they were treading was achurch, and that the silence they were invading was the cherishedproperty of a courteous people."They are all just the same as big boys," said Maria. The colourinstantly flew into my face, and I felt that it was my duty to speakup for my own countrymen. The word "boys" especially wounded myears. It was as a boy that she treated me; but, on looking at thatbefringed young Spanish Don--who was not, apparently, my elder inage--she had recognised a man. However, I said nothing further tillI reached the summit. One cannot speak with manly dignity while oneis out of breath on a staircase."There, John," she said, stretching her hands away over the fairplain of the Guadalquivir, as soon as we stood against the parapet;"is not that lovely?"I would not deign to notice this. "Maria," I said, "I think that youare too hard upon my countrymen?""Too hard! no; for I love them. They are so good and industrious;and come home to their wives, and take care of their children. Butwhy do they make themselves so--so--what the French call gauche?""Good and industrious, and come home to their wives!" thought I. "Ibelieve you hardly understand us as yet," I answered. "Our domesticvirtues are not always so very prominent; but, I believe, we know howto conduct ourselves as gentlemen: at any rate, as well asSpaniards." I was very angry--not at the faults, but at the goodqualities imputed to us."In affairs of business, yes," said Maria, with a look of firmconfidence in her own opinion--that look of confidence which she hasnever lost, and I pray that she may never lose it while I remain withher--"but in the little intercourses of the world, no! A Spaniardnever forgets what is personally due either to himself or hisneighbours. If he is eating an onion, he eats it as an onion shouldbe eaten.""In such matters as that he is very grand, no doubt," said I,angrily."And why should you not eat an onion properly, John? Now, I heard astory yesterday from Don--about two Englishmen, which annoyed me verymuch." I did not exactly catch the name of the Don in question but Ifelt through every nerve in my body that it was the man who had beentalking to her on the plaza."And what have they done?" said I. "But it is the same everywhere.We are always abused; but, nevertheless, no people are so welcome.At any rate, we pay for the mischief we do." I was angry with myselfthe moment the words were out of my mouth, for, after all, there isno feeling more mean than that pocket-confidence with which anEnglishman sometimes swaggers."There was no mischief done in this case," she answered. "It wassimply that two men have made themselves ridiculous for ever. Thestory is all about Seville, and, of course, it annoys me that theyshould be Englishmen.""And what did they do?""The Marquis D'Almavivas was coming up to Seville in the boat, andthey behaved to him in the most outrageous manner. He is here nowand is going to give a series of fetes. Of course he will not ask asingle Englishman.""We shall manage to live even though the Marquis D'Almavivas mayfrown upon us," said I, proudly."He is the richest, and also the best of our noblemen," continuedMaria; "and I never heard of anything so absurd as what they did tohim. It made me blush when Don -- told me." Don Tomas, I thoughtshe said."If he be the best of your noblemen, how comes it that he is angrybecause he has met two vulgar men? It is not to be supposed thatevery Englishman is a gentleman.""Angry! Oh, no! he was not angry; he enjoyed the joke too much forthat. He got completely the best of them, though they did not knowit; poor fools! How would your Lord John Russell behave if twoSpaniards in an English railway carriage were to pull him about andtear his clothes?""He would give them in charge to a policeman, of course," said I,speaking of such a matter with the contempt it deserved."If that were done here your ambassador would be demanding nationalexplanations. But Almavivas did much better;--he laughed at themwithout letting them know it.""But do you mean that they took hold of him violently, without anyprovocation? They must have been drunk.""Oh, no, they were sober enough. I did not see it, so I do not quiteknow exactly how it was, but I understand that they committedthemselves most absurdly, absolutely took hold of his coat and toreit, and--; but they did such ridiculous things that I cannot tellyou." And yet Don Tomas, if that was the man's name, had been ableto tell her, and she had been able to listen to him."'What made them take hold of the marquis?" said I."Curiosity, I suppose," she answered. "He dresses somewhatfancifully, and they could not understand that any one should weargarments different from their own." But even then the blow did notstrike home upon me."Is it not pretty to look down upon the quiet town?" she said, comingclose up to me, so that the skirt of her dress pressed me, and herelbow touched my arm. Now was the moment I should have asked her howher heart stood towards me; but I was sore and uncomfortable, and mydestiny was before me. She was willing enough to let these Englishfaults pass without further notice, but I would not allow the subjectI drop."I will find out who these men were," said I, "and learn the truth ofit. When did it occur?""Last Thursday, I think he said.""Why, that was the day we came up in the boat, Johnson and myself.There was no marquis there then, and we were the only Englishmen onboard.""It was on Thursday, certainly, because it was well known in Sevillethat he arrived on that day. You must have remarked him because hetalks English perfectly--though by-the-bye, these men would go onchattering before him about himself as though it were impossible thata Spaniard should know their language. They are ignorant of Spanish,and they cannot bring themselves to believe that any one should bebetter educated than themselves."Now the blow had fallen, and I straightway appreciated the necessityof returning immediately to Clapham where my family resided, andgiving up for ever all idea of Spanish connections. I had resolvedto assert the full strength of my manhood on that tower, and nowwords had been spoken which left me weak as a child. I felt that Iwas shivering, and did not dare to pronounce the truth which must bemade known. As to speaking of love, and signifying my pleasure thatDon Tomas should for the future be kept at a distance, any sucheffort was quite beyond me. Had Don Tomas been there, he might havewalked off with her from before my face without a struggle on mypart. "Now I remember about it," she continued, "I think he musthave been in the boat on Thursday.""And now that I remember," I replied, turning away to hide myembarrassment, "he was there. Your friend down below in the plazaseems to have made out a grand story. No doubt he is not fond of theEnglish. There was such a man there, and I did take hold--""Oh, John, was it you?""Yes, Donna Maria, it was I; and if Lord John Russell were to dresshimself in the same way--" But I had no time to complete mydescription of what might occur under so extravagantly impossible acombination of circumstances, for as I was yet speaking, the littledoor leading out on to the leads of the tower was opened and myfriend, the mayo of the boat, still bearing gewgaws on his back,stepped up on to the platform. My eye instantly perceived that theone pendule was still missing from his jacket. He did not comealone, but three other gentlemen followed him, who, however, had nopeculiarities in their dress. He saw me at once and bowed andsmiled; and then observing Donna Maria, he lifted his cap from hishead, and addressing himself to her in Spanish, began to conversewith her as though she were an old friend."Senor," said Maria, after the first words of greeting had beenspoken between them; "you must permit me to present to you myfather's most particular friend, and my own,--Mr. Pomfret; John, thisis the Marquis D'Almavivas."I cannot now describe the grace with which this introduction waseffected, or the beauty of her face as she uttered the word. Therewas a boldness about her as though she had said, "I know it all--thewhole story. But, in spite of that you must take him on myrepresentation, and be gracious to him in spite of what he has done.You must be content to do that; or in quarrelling with him you mustquarrel with me also." And it was done at the spur of the moment--without delay. She, who not five minutes since had been loudlycondemning the unknown Englishman for his rudeness, had alreadypardoned him, now that he was known to be her friend; and haddetermined that he should be pardoned by others also or that shewould share his disgrace. I recognised the nobleness of this at themoment; but, nevertheless, I was so sore that I would almost havepreferred that she should have disowned me.The marquis immediately lifted his cap with his left hand while hegave me his right. "I have already had the pleasure of meeting thisgentleman," he said; "we had some conversation in the boat together.""Yes," said I, pointing to his rent, "and you still bear the marks ofour encounter.""Was it not delightful, Donna Maria," he continued, turning to her;"your friend's friend took me for a torero?""And it served you properly, senor," said Donna Maria, laughing, "youhave no right to go about with all those rich ornaments upon you.""Oh! quite properly; indeed, I make no complaint; and I must beg yourfriend to understand, and his friend also, how grateful I am fortheir solicitude as to my pecuniary welfare. They were inclined tobe severe on me for being so extravagant in such trifles. I wasobliged to explain that I had no wife at home kept without her properallowance of dresses, in order that I might be gay.""They are foreigners, and you should forgive their error," said she."And in token that I do so," said the marquis, "I shall beg yourfriend to accept the little ornament which attracted his attention."And so saying, he pulled the identical button out of his pocket, andgracefully proffered it to me."I shall carry it about with me always," said I, accepting it, "as amemento of humiliation. When I look at it, I shall ever remember thefolly of an Englishman and the courtesy of a Spaniard;" and as I madethe speech I could not but reflect whether it might, under anycircumstances, be possible that Lord John Russell should be inducedto give a button off his coat to a Spaniard.There were other civil speeches made, and before we left the towerthe marquis had asked me to his parties, and exacted from me anunwilling promise that I would attend them. "The senora," he said,bowing again to Maria, "would, he was sure, grace them. She had doneso on the previous year; and as I had accepted his little present Iwas bound to acknowledge him as my friend." All this was verypretty, and of course I said that I would go, but I had not at thattime the slightest intention of doing so. Maria had behavedadmirably; she had covered my confusion, and shown herself notashamed to own me, delinquent as I was; but, not the less, had sheexpressed her opinion, in language terribly strong, of theawkwardness of which I had been guilty, and had shown almost anaversion to my English character. I should leave Seville as quicklyas I could, and should certainly not again put myself in the way ofthe Marquis D'Almavivas. Indeed, I dreaded the moment that I shouldbe first alone with her, and should find myself forced to saysomething indicative of my feelings--to hear something alsoindicative of her feelings. I had come out this morning resolved todemand my rights and to exercise them--and now my only wish was toman away. I hated the marquis, and longed to be alone that I mightcast his button from me. To think that a man should be so ruined bysuch a trifle!We descended that prodigious flight without a word upon the subject,and almost without a word at all. She had carried herself well inthe presence of Almavivas, and had been too proud to seem ashamed ofher companion; but now, as I could well see, her feelings of disgustand contempt had returned. When I begged her not to hurry herself,she would hardly answer me; and when she did speak, her voice wasconstrained and unlike herself. And yet how beautiful she was!Well, my dream of Spanish love must be over. But I was sure of this;that having known her, and given her my heart, I could neverafterwards share it with another.We came out at last on the dark, gloomy aisle of the cathedral, andwalked together without a word up along the side of the choir, tillwe came to the transept. There was not a soul near us, and not asound was to be heard but the distant, low pattering of a mass, thenin course of celebration at some far-off chapel in the cathedral.When we got to the transept Maria turned a little, as though she wasgoing to the transept door, and then stopped herself. She stoodstill; and when I stood also, she made two steps towards me, and puther hand on my arm. "Oh, John!" she said."'Well," said I; "after all it does not signify. You can make a jokeof it when my back is turned.""Dearest John!"--she had never spoken to me in that way before--"youmust not be angry with me. It is better that we should explain toeach other, is it not?""Oh, much better. I am very glad you heard of it at once. I do notlook at it quite in the same light that you do; but nevertheless--""What do you mean? But I know you are angry with me. And yet youcannot think that I intended those words for you. Of course I knownow that there was nothing rude in what passed.""Oh, but there was.""No, I am sure there was not. You could not be rude though you areso free hearted. I see it all now, and so does the marquis. Youwill like him so much when you come to know him. Tell me that youwon't be cross with me for what I have said. Sometimes I think thatI have displeased you, and yet my whole wish has been to welcome youto Seville, and to make you comfortable as an old friend. Promise methat you will not be cross with me."Cross with her! I certainly had no intention of being cross, but Ihad begun to think that she would not care what my humour might be."Maria," I said, taking hold of her hand."No, John, do not do that. It is in the church, you know.""Maria, will you answer me a question?""Yes," she said, very slowly, looking dawn upon the stone slabsbeneath our feet."Do you love me?""Love you!""Yes, do you love me? You were to give me an answer here, inSeville, and now I ask for it. I have almost taught myself to thinkthat it is needless to ask; and now this horrid mischance--""What do you mean?" said she, speaking very quickly."Why this miserable blunder about the marquis's button! After that Isuppose--""The marquis! Oh, John, is that to make a difference between you andme?--a little joke like that?""But does it not?""Make a change between us!--such a thing as that! Oh, John!""But tell me, Maria, what am I to hope? If you will say that you canlove me, I shall care nothing for the marquis. In that case I canbear to be laughed at.""Who will dare to laugh at you? Not the marquis, whom I am sure youwill like.""Your friend in this plaza, who told you of all this.""What, poor Tomas!""I do not know about his being poor. I mean the gentleman who waswith you last night.""Yes, Tomas. You do not know who he is?""Not in the least.""How droll! He is your own clerk--partly your own, now that you areone of the firm. And, John, I mean to make you do something for him;he is such a good fellow; and last year he married a young girl whomI love--oh, almost like a sister."Do something for him! Of course I would. I promised, then andthere, that I would raise his salary to any conceivable amount that aSpanish clerk could desire; which promise I have since kept, if notabsolutely to the letter, at any rate, to an extent which has beenconsidered satisfactory by the gentleman's wife."But, Maria--dearest Maria--""Remember, John, we are in the church; and poor papa will be waitingbreakfast."I need hardly continue the story further. It will be known to allthat my love-suit throve in spite of my unfortunate raid on thebutton of the Marquis D'Almavivas, at whose series of fetes throughthat month I was, I may boast, an honoured guest. I have since thathad the pleasure of entertaining him in my own poor house in England,and one of our boys bears his Christian name.From that day in which I ascended the Giralda to this present day inwhich I write, I have never once had occasion to complain of adeficiency of romance either in Maria Daguilar or in Maria Pomfret.

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *