The Adelantado of the Seven Cities

by Washington Irving

　　In the early part of the fifteenth century, when Prince Henry ofPortugal, of worthy memory, was pushing the career of discovery alongthe western coast of Africa, and the world was resounding with reportsof golden regions on the main land, and new-found islands in the ocean,there arrived at Lisbon an old bewildered pilot of the seas, who hadbeen driven by tempests, he knew not whither, and who raved about anisland far in the deep, on which he had landed, and which he had foundpeopled with Christians, and adorned with noble cities.The inhabitants, he said, gathered round, and regarded him withsurprise, having never before been visited by a ship. They told him theywere descendants of a band of Christians, who fled from Spain when thatcountry was conquered by the Moslems. They were curious about the stateof their fatherland, and grieved to hear that the Moslems still heldpossession of the kingdom of Granada. They would have taken the oldnavigator to church, to convince him of their orthodoxy; but, eitherthrough lack of devotion, or lack of faith in their words, he declinedtheir invitation, and preferred to return on board of his ship. He wasproperly punished. A furious storm arose, drove him from his anchorage,hurried him out to sea, and he saw no more of the unknown island.This strange story caused great marvel in Lisbon and elsewhere. Thoseversed in history, remembered to have read, in an ancient chronicle,that, at the time of the conquest of Spain, in the eighth century, whenthe blessed cross was cast down, and the crescent erected in its place,and when Christian churches were turned into Moslem mosques, sevenbishops, at the head of seven bands of pious exiles, had fled from thepeninsula, and embarked in quest of some ocean island, or distant land,where they might found seven Christian cities, and enjoy their faithunmolested.The fate of these pious saints errant had hitherto remained amystery, and their story had faded from memory; the report of the oldtempest-tossed pilot, however, revived this long-forgotten theme; andit was determined by the pious and enthusiastic, that the island thusaccidentally discovered, was the identical place of refuge, whither thewandering bishops had been guided by a protecting Providence, and wherethey had folded their flocks.This most excitable of worlds has always some darling object ofchimerical enterprise: the "Island of the Seven Cities" now awakened asmuch interest and longing among zealous Christians, as has the renownedcity of Timbuctoo among adventurous travellers, or the North-eastPassage among hardy navigators; and it was a frequent prayer of thedevout, that these scattered and lost portions of the Christian familymight be discovered, and reunited to the great body of Christendom.No one, however, entered into the matter with half the zeal of DonFernando de Ulmo, a young cavalier of high standing in the Portuguesecourt, and of most sanguine and romantic temperament. He had recentlycome to his estate, and had run the round of all kinds of pleasures andexcitements, when this new theme of popular talk and wonder presenteditself. The Island of the Seven Cities became now the constant subjectof his thoughts by day and his dreams by night; it even rivalled hispassion for a beautiful girl, one of the greatest belles of Lisbon, towhom he was betrothed. At length his imagination became so inflamed onthe subject, that he determined to fit out an expedition, at his ownexpense, and set sail in quest of this sainted island. It could not bea cruise of any great extent; for according to the calculations of thetempest-tossed pilot, it must be somewhere in the latitude of theCanaries; which at that time, when the new world was as yet undiscovered,formed the frontier of ocean enterprise. Don Fernando applied to thecrown for countenance and protection. As he was a favorite at court, theusual patronage was readily extended to him; that is to say, he receiveda commission from the king, Don Ioam II., constituting him Adelantado,or military governor, of any country he might discover, with the singleproviso, that he should bear all the expenses of the discovery and pay atenth of the profits to the crown.Don Fernando now set to work in the true spirit of a projector. He soldacre after acre of solid land, and invested the proceeds in ships, guns,ammunition, and sea-stores. Even his old family mansion in Lisbon wasmortgaged without scruple, for "he looked forward to a palace in one ofthe Seven Cities of which he was to be Adelantado." This was the age ofnautical romance, when the thoughts of all speculative dreamers wereturned to the ocean. The scheme of Don Fernando, therefore, drewadventurers of every kind. The merchant promised himself new marts ofopulent traffic; the soldier hoped to sack and plunder some one or otherof those Seven Cities; even the fat monk shook off the sleep and slothof the cloister, to join in a crusade which promised such increase tothe possessions of the church.One person alone regarded the whole project with sovereign contemptand growling hostility. This was Don Ramiro Alvarez, the father of thebeautiful Serafina, to whom Don Fernando was betrothed. He was one ofthose perverse, matter-of-fact old men who are prone to oppose everything speculative and romantic. He had no faith in the Island of theSeven Cities; regarded the projected cruise as a crack-brained freak;looked with angry eye and internal heart-burning on the conduct of hisintended son-in-law, chaffering away solid lands for lands in the moon,and scoffingly dubbed him Adelantado of Lubberland. In fact, he hadnever really relished the intended match, to which his consent had beenslowly extorted by the tears and entreaties of his daughter. It is truehe could have no reasonable objections to the youth, for Don Fernandowas the very flower of Portuguese chivalry. No one could excel him atthe tilting match, or the riding at the ring; none was more bold anddexterous in the bull-fight; none composed more gallant madrigals inpraise of his lady's charms, or sang them with sweeter tones to theaccompaniment of her guitar; nor could any one handle the castanetsand dance the bolero with more captivating grace. All these admirablequalities and endowments, however, though they had been sufficient towin the heart of Serafina, were nothing in the eyes of her unreasonablefather. O Cupid, god of Love! why will fathers always be sounreasonable!The engagement to Serafina had threatened at first to throw an obstaclein the way of the expedition of Don Fernando, and for a time perplexedhim in the extreme. He was passionately attached to the young lady; buthe was also passionately bent on this romantic enterprise. How shouldhe reconcile the two passionate inclinations? A simple and obviousarrangement at length presented itself: marry Serafina, enjoy a portionof the honeymoon at once, and defer the rest until his return from thediscovery of the Seven Cities!He hastened to make known this most excellent arrangement to Don Ramiro,when the long-smothered wrath of the old cavalier burst forth in a stormabout his ears. He reproached him with being the dupe of wanderingvagabonds and wild schemers, and of squandering all his real possessionsin pursuit of empty bubbles. Don Fernando was too sanguine a projector,and too young a man, to listen tamely to such language. He acted withwhat is technically called "becoming spirit." A high quarrel ensued; DonRamiro pronounced him a mad man, and forbade all farther intercoursewith his daughter, until he should give proof of returning sanity byabandoning this mad-cap enterprise; while Don Fernando flung out ofthe house, more bent than ever on the expedition, from the idea oftriumphing over the incredulity of the gray-beard when he should returnsuccessful.Don Ramiro repaired to his daughter's chamber the moment the youth haddeparted. He represented to her the sanguine, unsteady character of herlover and the chimerical nature of his schemes; showed her the proprietyof suspending all intercourse with him until he should recover from hispresent hallucination; folded her to his bosom with parental fondness,kissed the tear that stole down her cheek, and, as he left the chamber,gently locked the door; for although he was a fond father, and had ahigh opinion of the submissive temper of his child, he had a stillhigher opinion of the conservative virtues of lock and key. Whether thedamsel had been in any wise shaken in her faith as to the schemes of herlover, and the existence of the Island of the Seven Cities, by the sagerepresentations of her father, tradition does not say; but it is certainthat she became a firm believer the moment she heard him turn the key inthe lock.Notwithstanding the interdict of Don Ramiro, therefore, and hisshrewd precautions, the intercourse of the lovers continued, althoughclandestinely. Don Fernando toiled all day, hurrying forward hisnautical enterprise, while at night he would repair, beneath thegrated balcony of his mistress, to carry on at equal pace the no lessinteresting enterprise of the heart. At length the preparations for theexpedition were completed. Two gallant caravels lay anchored in theTagus, ready to sail with the morning dawn; while late at night, by thepale light of a waning moon, Don Fernando sought the stately mansion ofAlvarez to take a last farewell of Serafina. The customary signal of afew low touches of a guitar brought her to the balcony. She was sad atheart and full of gloomy forebodings; but her lover strove to impart toher his own buoyant hope and youthful confidence. "A few short months,"said he, "and I shall return in triumph. Thy father will then blush athis incredulity, and will once more welcome me to his house, whenI cross its threshold a wealthy suitor and Adelantado of the SevenCities."The beautiful Serafina shook her head mournfully. It was not on thosepoints that she felt doubt or dismay. She believed most implicitly inthe Island of the Seven Cities, and trusted devoutly in the success ofthe enterprise; but she had heard of the inconstancy of the seas, andthe inconstancy of those who roam them. Now, let the truth be spoken,Don Fernando, if he had any fault in the world, it was that he was alittle too inflammable; that is to say, a little too subject to takefire from the sparkle of every bright eye: he had been somewhat of arover among the sex on shore, what might he not be on sea? Might henot meet with other loves in foreign ports? Might he not behold somepeerless beauty in one or other of those seven cities, who might effacethe image of Serafina from his thoughts?At length she ventured to hint her doubts; but Don Fernando spurned atthe very idea. Never could his heart be false to Serafina! Never couldanother be captivating in his eyesnever! Repeatedly did hebend his knee, and smite his breast, and call upon the silver moon towitness the sincerity of his vows. But might not Serafina, herself, beforgetful of her plighted faith? Might not some wealthier rival present,while he was tossing on the sea, and, backed by the authority of herfather, win the treasure of her hand? Alas, how little did he knowSerafina's heart! The more her father should oppose, the more would shebe fixed in her faith. Though years should pass before his return, hewould find her true to her vows. Even should the salt seas swallow himup, (and her eyes streamed with salt tears at the very thought,) neverwould she be the wife of another--never--never! She raised her beautifulwhite arms between the iron bars of the balcony, and invoked the moon asa testimonial of her faith.Thus, according to immemorial usage, the lovers parted, with many a vowof eternal constancy. But will they keep those vows? Perish the doubt!Have they not called the constant moon to witness?With the morning dawn the caravels dropped down the Tagus and putto sea. They steered for the Canaries, in those days the regions ofnautical romance. Scarcely had they reached those latitudes, when aviolent tempest arose. Don Fernando soon lost sight of the accompanyingcaravel, and was driven out of all reckoning by the fury of the storm.For several weary days and nights he was tossed to and fro, at the mercyof the elements, expecting each moment to be swallowed up. At length,one day toward evening, the storm subsided; the clouds cleared up, asthough a veil had suddenly been withdrawn from the face of heaven, andthe setting sun shone gloriously upon a fair and mountainous island,that seemed close at hand. The tempest-tossed mariners rubbed theireyes, and gazed almost incredulously upon this land, that had emerged sosuddenly from the murky gloom; yet there it lay, spread out in lovelylandscapes; enlivened by villages, and towers, and spires, while thelate stormy sea rolled in peaceful billows to its shores. About a leaguefrom the sea, on the banks of a river, stood a noble city, with loftywalls and towers, and a protecting castle. Don Fernando anchored offthe mouth of the river, which appeared to form a spacious harbor. In alittle while a barge was seen issuing from the river. It was evidentlya barge of ceremony, for it was richly though quaintly carved and gilt,and decorated with a silken awning and fluttering streamers, while abanner, bearing the sacred emblem of the cross, floated to the breeze.The barge advanced slowly, impelled by sixteen oars, painted of a brightcrimson. The oarsmen were uncouth, or rather antique, in their garb, andkept stroke to the regular cadence of an old Spanish ditty. Beneath theawning sat a cavalier, in a rich though old-fashioned doublet, with anenormous sombrero and feather. When the barge reached the caravel, thecavalier stepped on board. He was tall and gaunt, with a long, Spanishvisage, and lack-lustre eyes, and an air of lofty and somewhat pompousgravity. His mustaches were curled up to his ears, his beard was forkedand precise; he wore gauntlets that reached to his elbows, and a Toledoblade that strutted out behind, while, in front, its huge basket-hiltmight have served for a porringer.Thrusting out a long spindle leg, and taking off his sombrero with agrave and stately sweep, he saluted Don Fernando by name, and welcomedhim, in old Castilian language, and in the style of old Castiliancourtesy.Don Fernando was startled at hearing himself accosted by name, by anutter stranger, in a strange land. As soon as he could recover from hissurprise, he inquired what land it was at which he had arrived."The Island of the Seven Cities!"Could this be true? Had he indeed been thus tempest-driven upon the veryland of which he was in quest? It was even so. The other caravel, fromwhich he had been separated in the storm, had made a neighboring port ofthe island, and announced the tidings of this expedition, which came torestore the country to the great community of Christendom. The wholeisland, he was told, was given up to rejoicings on the happy event; andthey only awaited his arrival to acknowledge allegiance to the crown ofPortugal, and hail him as Adelantado of the Seven Cities. A grand ftewas to be solemnized that very night in the palace of the Alcayde orgovernor of the city; who, on beholding the most opportune arrival ofthe caravel, had despatched his grand chamberlain, in his barge ofstate, to conduct the future Adelantado to the ceremony.Don Fernando could scarcely believe but that this was all a dream.He fixed a scrutinizing gaze upon the grand chamberlain, who, havingdelivered his message, stood in buckram dignity, drawn up to his fullstature, curling his whiskers, stroking his beard, and looking down uponhim with inexpressible loftiness through his lack-lustre eyes. There wasno doubting the word of so grave and ceremonious a hidalgo.Don Fernando now arrayed himself in gala attire. He would have launchedhis boat, and gone on shore with his own men, but he was informed thebarge of state was expressly provided for his accommodation, and, afterthe fte, would bring him back to his ship; in which, on the followingday, he might enter the harbor in befitting style. He accordinglystepped into the barge, and took his seat beneath the awning. The grandchamberlain seated himself on the cushion opposite. The rowers bent totheir oars, and renewed their mournful old ditty, and the gorgeous, butunwieldy barge moved slowly and solemnly through the water.The night closed in, before they entered the river. They swept along,past rock and promontory, each guarded by its tower. The sentinels atevery post challenged them as they passed by."Who goes there?""The Adelantado of the Seven Cities.""He is welcome. Pass on."On entering the harbor, they rowed close along an armed galley, of themost ancient form. Soldiers with cross-bows were stationed on the deck."Who goes there?" was again demanded."The Adelantado of the Seven Cities.""He is welcome. Pass on."They landed at a broad flight of stone steps, leading up, between twomassive towers, to the water-gate of the city, at which they knocked foradmission. A sentinel, in an ancient steel casque, looked over the wall."Who is there?""The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."The gate swung slowly open, grating upon its rusty hinges. They enteredbetween two rows of iron-clad warriors, in battered armor, withcross-bows, battle-axes, and ancient maces, and with faces asold-fashioned and rusty as their armor. They saluted Don Fernando inmilitary style, but with perfect silence, as he passed between theirranks. The city was illuminated, but in such manner as to give a moreshadowy and solemn effect to its old-time architecture. There werebonfires in the principal streets, with groups about them in suchold-fashioned garbs, that they looked like the fantastic figures thatroam the streets in carnival time. Even the stately dames who gazed fromthe balconies, which they had hung with antique tapestry, looked morelike effigies dressed up for a quaint mummery, than like ladies in theirfashionable attire. Every thing, in short, bore the stamp of formerages, as if the world had suddenly rolled back a few centuries. Nor wasthis to be wondered at. Had not the Island of the Seven Cities been forseveral hundred years cut off from all communication with the rest ofthe world, and was it not natural that the inhabitants should retainmany of the modes and customs brought here by their ancestors?One thing certainly they had conserved; the old-fashioned Spanishgravity and stateliness. Though this was a time of public rejoicing, andthough Don Fernando was the object of their gratulations, every thingwas conducted with the most solemn ceremony, and wherever he appeared,instead of acclamations, he was received with profound silence, and themost formal reverences and swayings of their sombreros.Arrived at the palace of the Alcayde, the usual ceremonial was repeated.The chamberlain knocked for admission."Who is there?" demanded the porter."The Adelantado of the Seven Cities.""He is welcome. Pass on."The grand portal was thrown open. The chamberlain led the way up a vastbut heavily moulded marble stair-case, and so through one of thoseinterminable suites of apartments, that are the pride of Spanishpalaces. All were furnished in a style of obsolete magnificence. As theypassed through the chambers, the title of Don Fernando was forwarded onby servants stationed at every door; and every where produced the mostprofound reverences and courtesies. At length they reached a magnificentsaloon, blazing with tapers, in which the Alcayde, and the principaldignitaries of the city, were waiting to receive their illustriousguest. The grand chamberlain presented Don Fernando in due form, andfalling back among the other officers of the household, stood as usualcurling his whiskers and stroking his forked beard.Don Fernando was received by the Alcayde and the other dignitaries withthe same stately and formal courtesy that he had every where remarked.In fact, there was so much form and ceremonial, that it seemed difficultto get at any thing social or substantial. Nothing but bows, andcompliments, and old-fashioned courtesies. The Alcayde and his courtiersresembled, in face and form, those quaint worthies to be seen in thepictures of old illuminated manuscripts; while the cavaliers and dameswho thronged the saloon, might have beep taken for the antique figuresof gobelin tapestry suddenly vivified and put in motion.The banquet, which had been kept back until the arrival of Don Fernando,was now announced; and such a feast! such unknown dishes and obsoletedainties; with the peacock, that bird of state and ceremony, served upin full plumage, in a golden dish, at the head of the table. And then,as Don Fernando cast his eyes over the glittering board, what a vista ofodd heads and head-dresses, of formal bearded dignitaries, and statelydames, with castellated locks and towering plumes!As fate would have it, on the other side of Don Fernando, was seated thedaughter of the Alcayde. She was arrayed, it is true, in a dress thatmight have been worn before the flood; but then, she had a melting blackAndalusian eye, that was perfectly irresistible. Her voice, too, hermanner, her movements, all smacked of Andalusia, and showed how femalefascination may be transmitted from age to age, and clime to clime,without ever losing its power, or going out of fashion. Those who knowthe witchery of the sex, in that most amorous region of old Spain, mayjudge what must have been the fascination to which Don Fernandowas exposed, when seated beside one of the most captivating of itsdescendants. He was, as has already been hinted, of an inflammabletemperament; with a heart ready to get in a light blaze at everyinstant. And then he had been so wearied by pompous, tedious oldcavaliers, with their formal bows and speeches; is it to be wondered atthat he turned with delight to the Alcayde's daughter, all smiles, anddimples, and melting looks, and melting accents? Beside, for I wish togive him every excuse in my power, he was in a particularly excitablemood, from the novelty of the scene before him, and his head was almostturned with this sudden and complete realization of all his hopes andfancies; and then, in the flurry of the moment, he had taken frequentdraughts at the wine-cup, presented him at every instant by officiouspages, and all the world knows the effect of such draughts in givingpotency to female charms. In a word, there is no concealing the matter,the banquet was not half over, before Don Fernando was making love,outright, to the Alcayde's daughter. It was his cold habitude,contracted long before his matrimonial engagement. The young lady hungher head coyly; her eye rested upon a ruby heart, sparkling in a ring onthe hand of Don Fernando, a parting gage of love from Serafina. A blushcrimsoned her very temples. She darted a glance of doubt at thering, and then at Don Fernando. He read her doubt, and in the giddyintoxication of the moment, drew off the pledge of his affianced bride,and slipped it on the finger of the Alcayde's daughter.At this moment the banquet broke up. The chamberlain with his loftydemeanor, and his lack-lustre eyes, stood before him, and announced thatthe barge was waiting to conduct him back to the caravel. Don Fernandotook a formal leave of the Alcayde and his dignitaries, and a tenderfarewell of the Alcayde's daughter, with a promise to throw himself ather feet on the following day. He was rowed back to his vessel in thesame slow and stately manner, to the cadence of the same mournful oldditty. He retired to his cabin, his brain whirling with all that he hadseen, and his heart now and then giving him a twinge as he recollectedhis temporary infidelity to the beautiful Serafina. He flung himself onhis bed, and soon fell into a feverish sleep. His dreams were wild andincoherent. How long he slept he knew not, but when he awoke he foundhimself in a strange cabin, with persons around him of whom he had noknowledge. He rubbed his eyes to ascertain whether he were really awake.In reply to his inquiries, he was informed that he was on board of aPortuguese ship, bound to Lisbon; having been taken senseless from awreck drifting about the ocean.Don Fernando was confounded and perplexed. He retraced every thingdistinctly that had happened to him in the Island of the Seven Cities,and until he had retired to rest on board of the caravel. Had his vesselbeen driven from her anchors, and wrecked during his sleep? The peopleabout him could give him no information on the subject. He talked tothem of the Island of the Seven Cities, and of all that had befallen himthere. They regarded his words as the ravings of delirium, and in theirhonest solicitude, administered such rough remedies, that he was fain todrop the subject, and observe a cautious taciturnity.At length they arrived in the Tagus, and anchored before the famous cityof Lisbon. Don Fernando sprang joyfully on shore, and hastened to hisancestral mansion. To his surprise, it was inhabited by strangers; andwhen he asked about his family, no one could give him any informationconcerning them.He now sought the mansion of Don Ramiro, for the temporary flame kindledby the bright eyes of the Alcayde's daughter had long since burnt itselfout, and his genuine passion for Serafina had revived with all itsfervor. He approached the balcony, beneath which he had so oftenserenaded her. Did his eyes deceive him? No! There was Serafina herselfat the balcony. An exclamation of rapture burst from him, as he raisedhis arms toward her. She cast upon him a look of indignation, andhastily retiring, closed the casement. Could she have heard of hisflirtation with the Alcayde's daughter? He would soon dispel every doubtof his constancy. The door was open. He rushed up-stairs, and enteringthe room, threw himself at her feet. She shrank back with affright, andtook refuge in the arms of a youthful cavalier."What mean you, Sir," cried the latter, "by this intrusion?""What right have you," replied Don Fernando, "to ask the question?""The right of an affianced suitor!"Don Fernando started, and turned pale. "Oh, Serafina! Serafina!" criedhe in a tone of agony, "is this thy plighted constancy?""Serafina?--what mean you by Serafina? If it be this young lady youintend, her name is Maria.""Is not this Serafina Alvarez, and is not that her portrait?" cried DonFernando, pointing to a picture of his mistress."Holy Virgin!" cried the young lady; "he is talking of mygreat-grandmother!"An explanation ensued, if that could be called an explanation, whichplunged the unfortunate Fernando into tenfold perplexity. If he mightbelieve his eyes, he saw before him his beloved Serafina; if he mightbelieve his ears, it was merely her hereditary form and features,perpetuated in the person of her great-granddaughter.His brain began to spin. He sought tho office of the Minister of Marine,and made a report of his expedition, and of the Island of the SevenCities, which he had so fortunately discovered. No body knew any thingof such an expedition, or such an island. He declared that he hadundertaken the enterprise under a formal contract with the crown, andhad received a regular commission, constituting him Adelantado. Thismust be matter of record, and he insisted loudly, that the books of thedepartment should be consulted. The wordy strife at length attracted theattention of an old, gray-headed clerk, who sat perched on a high stool,at a high desk, with iron-rimmed spectacles on the top of a thin,pinched nose, copying records into an enormous folio. He had winteredand summered in the department for a great part of a century, until hehad almost grown to be a piece of the desk at which he sat; his memorywas a mere index of official facts and documents, and his brain waslittle better than red tape and parchment. After peering down for a timefrom his lofty perch, and ascertaining the matter in controversy, heput his pen behind his ear, and descended. He remembered to have heardsomething from his predecessor about an expedition of the kind inquestion, but then it had sailed during the reign of Don Ioam II., andhe had been dead at least a hundred years. To put the matter beyonddispute, however, the archives of the Torve do Tombo, that sepulchre ofold Portuguese documents, were diligently searched, and a record wasfound of a contract between the crown and one Fernando de Ulmo, for thediscovery of the Island of the Seven Cities, and of a commission securedto him as Adelantado of the country he might discover."There!" cried Don Fernando, triumphantly, "there you have proof, beforeyour own eyes, of what I have said. I am the Fernando de Ulmo specifiedin that record. I have discovered the Island of the Seven Cities, and amentitled to be Adelantado, according to contract."The story of Don Fernando had certainly, what is pronounced the bestof historical foundation, documentary evidence; but when a man, in thebloom of youth, talked of events that had taken place above a centurypreviously, as having happened to himself, it is no wonder that he wasset down for a mad man.The old clerk looked at him from above and below his spectacles,shrugged his shoulders, stroked his chin, reascended his lofty stool,took the pen from behind his ears, and resumed his daily and eternaltask, copying records into the fiftieth volume of a series of giganticfolios. The other clerks winked at each other shrewdly, and dispersed totheir several places, and poor Don Fernando, thus left to himself, flungout of the office, almost driven wild by these repeated perplexities.In the confusion of his mind, he instinctively repaired to the mansionof Alvarez, but it was barred against him. To break the delusion underwhich the youth apparently labored, and to convince him that theSerafina about whom he raved was really dead, he was conducted to hertomb. There she lay, a stately matron, cut out in alabaster; and therelay her husband beside her; a portly cavalier, in armor; and thereknelt, on each side, the effigies of a numerous progeny, proving thatshe had been a fruitful vine. Even the very monument gave proof of thelapse of time, for the hands of her husband, which were folded as if inprayer, had lost their fingers, and the face of the once lovely Serafinawas noseless.Don Fernando felt a transient glow of indignation at beholding thismonumental proof of the inconstancy of his mistress; but who couldexpect a mistress to remain constant during a whole century of absence?And what right had he to rail about constancy, after what had passedbetween him and the Alcayde's daughter? The unfortunate cavalierperformed one pious act of tender devotion; he had the alabaster nose ofSerafina restored by a skilful statuary, and then tore himself from thetomb.He could now no longer doubt the fact that, somehow or other, he hadskipped over a whole century, during the night he had spent at theIsland of the Seven Cities; and he was now as complete a stranger in hisnative city, as if he had never been there. A thousand times did hewish himself back to that wonderful island, with its antiquated banquethalls, where he had been so courteously received; and now that the onceyoung and beautiful Serafina was nothing but a great-grandmother inmarble, with generations of descendants, a thousand times would herecall the melting black eyes of the Alcayde's daughter, who doubtless,like himself, was still flourishing in fresh juvenility, and breathe asecret wish that he were seated by her side.He would at once have set on foot another expedition, at his ownexpense, to cruise in search of the sainted island, but his means wereexhausted. He endeavored to rouse others to the enterprise, settingforth the certainty of profitable results, of which his own experiencefurnished such unquestionable proof. Alas! no one would give faith tohis tale; but looked upon it as the feverish dream of a shipwreckedman. He persisted in his efforts; holding forth in all places andall companies, until he became an object of jest and jeer to thelight-minded, who mistook his earnest enthusiasm for a proof ofinsanity; and the very children in the streets bantered him with thetitle of "The Adelantado of the Seven Cities."Finding all his efforts in vain, in his native city of Lisbon, he tookshipping for the Canaries, as being nearer the latitude of his formercruise, and inhabited by people given to nautical adventure. Here hefound ready listeners to his story; for the old pilots and mariners ofthose parts were notorious island-hunters and devout believers in allthe wonders of the seas. Indeed, one and all treated his adventure as acommon occurrence, and turning to each other, with a sagacious nod ofthe head, observed, "He has been at the Island of St. Brandan."They then went on to inform him of that great marvel and enigma ofthe ocean; of its repeated appearance to the inhabitants of theirislands; and of the many but ineffectual expeditions that had been madein search of it. They took him to a promontory of the island of Palma,from whence the shadowy St. Brandan had oftenest been descried, and theypointed out the very tract in the west where its mountains had beenseen.Don Fernando listened with rapt attention. He had no longer a doubt thatthis mysterious and fugacious island must be the same with that ofthe Seven Cities; and that there must be some supernatural influenceconnected with it, that had operated upon himself, and made the eventsof a night occupy the space of a century.He endeavored, but in vain, to rouse the islanders to another attempt atdiscovery; they had given up the phantom island as indeed inaccessible.Fernando, however, was not to be discouraged. The idea wore itselfdeeper and deeper in his mind, until it became the engrossing subject ofhis thoughts and object of his being. Every morning he would repair tothe promontory of Palma, and sit there throughout the live-long day, inhopes of seeing the fairy mountains of St. Brandan peering above thehorizon; every evening he returned to his home, a disappointed man, butready to resume his post on the following morning.His assiduity was all in vain. He grew gray in his ineffectual attempt;and was at length found dead at his post. His grave is still shown inthe island of Palma, and a cross is erected on the spot where he usedto sit and look out upon the sea, in hopes of the reappearance of theenchanted island.

　　THE END.* * * * * * * * * * * *