Upon my telling him that I was sorry to see him in such a situation, he replied that it was an affair of no manner of consequence, as within six weeks he should be conducted to the _presidio_, from which, with the a.s.sistance of a few ounces distributed amongst the guards, he could at any time escape. "But whither would you flee?" I demanded. "Can I not flee to the land of the Moors," replied Balseiro, "or to the English in the camp of Gibraltar; or, if I prefer it, cannot I return to this _foro_, and live as I have hitherto done, _choring_ the _gachos_; {155} what is to hinder me? Madrid is large, and Balseiro has plenty of friends, especially among the _lumias_," he added, with a smile. I spoke to him of his ill-fated accomplice Candelas; whereupon his face a.s.sumed a horrible expression. "I hope he is in torment," exclaimed the robber.

The friendship of the unrighteous is never of long duration; the two worthies had, it seems, quarrelled in prison; Candelas having accused the other of bad faith and an undue appropriation to his own use of the _corpus delicti_ in various robberies which they had committed in company.

I cannot refrain from relating the subsequent history of this Balseiro.

Shortly after my own liberation, too impatient to wait until the _presidio_ should afford him a chance of regaining his liberty, he, in company with some other convicts, broke through the roof of the prison and escaped. He instantly resumed his former habits, committing several daring robberies, both within and without the walls of Madrid. I now come to his last, I may call it his master crime, a singular piece of atrocious villany. Dissatisfied with the proceeds of street robbery and house-breaking, he determined upon a bold stroke, by which he hoped to acquire money sufficient to support him in some foreign land in luxury and splendour.

There was a certain comptroller of the queen's household, by name Gabiria, {156} a Basque by birth, and a man of immense possessions: this individual had two sons, handsome boys, between twelve and fourteen years of age, whom I had frequently seen, and indeed conversed with, in my walks on the bank of the Manzanares, which was their favourite promenade.

These children, at the time of which I am speaking, were receiving their education at a certain seminary in Madrid. Balseiro, being well acquainted with the father's affection for his children, determined to make it subservient to his own rapacity. He formed a plan, which was neither more nor less than to steal the children, and not to restore them to their parent until he had received an enormous ransom. This plan was partly carried into execution: two a.s.sociates of Balseiro, well dressed, drove up to the door of the seminary where the children were, and, by means of a forged letter, purporting to be written by the father, induced the schoolmaster to permit the boys to accompany them for a country jaunt, as they pretended. About five leagues from Madrid Balseiro had a cave, in a wild unfrequented spot between the Escurial and a village called Torre Lodones: to this cave the children were conducted, where they remained in durance under the custody of the two accomplices; Balseiro in the mean time remaining in Madrid for the purpose of conducting negociations with the father. The father, however, was a man of considerable energy, and instead of acceding to the terms of the ruffian, communicated in a letter, instantly took the most vigorous measures for the recovery of his children. Horse and foot were sent out to scour the country, and in less than a week the children were found near the cave, having been abandoned by their keepers, who had taken fright on hearing of the decided measures which had been resorted to; they were, however, speedily arrested and identified by the boys as their ravishers. Balseiro, perceiving that Madrid was becoming too hot to hold him, attempted to escape, but whether to the camp of Gibraltar or to the land of the Moor, I know not; he was recognized, however, at a village in the neighbourhood of Madrid, and being apprehended, was forthwith conducted to the capital, where he shortly after terminated his existence on the scaffold, with his two a.s.sociates; Gabiria and his children being present at the ghastly scene, which they surveyed from a chariot at their ease.

Such was the end of Balseiro, of whom I should certainly not have said so much, but for the affair of the crabbed _Gitano_. Poor wretch! he acquired that species of immortality which is the object of the aspirations of many a Spanish thief, whilst vapouring about in the _patio_, dressed in the snowy linen; the rape of the children of Gabiria made him at once the pet of the fraternity. A celebrated robber, with whom I was subsequently imprisoned at Seville, spoke his eulogy in the following manner:-

"Balseiro was a very good subject, and an honest man. He was the head of our family, _Don Jorge_; we shall never see his like again; pity that he did not sack the _parne_, and escape to the camp of the Moor, _Don Jorge_."

CHAPTER XLI.

Maria Diaz-Priestly Vituperation-Antonio's Visit-Antonio at Service-A Scene-Benedict Mol-Wandering in Spain-The Four Evangelien.

"Well," said I to Maria Diaz, on the third morning after my imprisonment, "what do the people of Madrid say to this affair of mine?"

"I do not know what the people of Madrid in general say about it, probably they do not take much interest in it; indeed, imprisonments at the present time are such common matters, that people seem to be quite indifferent to them; the priests, however, are in no slight commotion, and confess that they have committed an imprudent thing in causing you to be arrested by their friend the _corregidor_ of Madrid."

"How is that?" I inquired. "Are they afraid that their friend will be punished?"

"Not so, _senor_," replied Maria; "slight grief indeed would it cause them, however great the trouble in which he had involved himself on their account; for this description of people have no affection, and would not care if all their friends were hanged, provided they themselves escaped.

But they say that they have acted imprudently in sending you to prison, inasmuch as by so doing they have given you an opportunity of carrying a plan of yours into execution. 'This fellow is a _bribon_,' say they, 'and has commenced tampering with the prisoners; they have taught him their language, which he already speaks as well as if he were a son of the prison. As soon as he comes out he will publish a thieves' Gospel, which will be a still more dangerous affair than the gypsy one, for the gypsies are few, but the thieves! woe is us; we shall all be Lutheranized. What infamy, what rascality! It was a trick of his own.

He was always eager to get into prison, and now, in evil hour, we have sent him there, _el bribonazo_; there will be no safety for Spain until he is hanged; he ought to be sent to the four h.e.l.ls, where at his leisure he might translate his fatal gospels into the language of the demons.'"

"I but said three words to the _alcayde_ of the prison," said I, "relative to the jargon used by the children of the prison."

"Three words! _Don Jorge_; and what may not be made out of three words?

You have lived amongst us to little purpose if you think we require more than three words to build a system with. Those three words about the thieves and their tongue were quite sufficient to cause it to be reported throughout Madrid that you had tampered with the thieves, had learnt their language, and had written a book which was to overturn Spain, open to the English the gates of Cadiz, give Mendizabal all the church plate and jewels, and to Don Martin Luther the archiepiscopal palace of Toledo."

Late in the afternoon of rather a gloomy day, as I was sitting in the apartment which the _alcayde_ had allotted me, I heard a rap at the door.

"Who is that?" I exclaimed. "_C'est moi_, _mon maitre_," cried a well-known voice, and presently in walked Antonio Buchini, dressed in the same style as when I first introduced him to the reader, namely, in a handsome but rather faded French surtout, vest, and pantaloons, with a diminutive hat in one hand, and holding in the other a long and slender cane.

"_Bon jour_, _mon maitre_," said the Greek; then, glancing around the apartment, he continued, "I am glad to find you so well lodged. If I remember right, _mon maitre_, we have slept in worse places during our wanderings in Galicia and Castile."

"You are quite right, Antonio," I replied; "I am very comfortable. Well, this is kind of you to visit your ancient master, more especially now he is in the toils; I hope, however, that by so doing you will not offend your present employer. His dinner hour must be at hand; why are you not in the kitchen?"

"Of what employer are you speaking, _mon maitre_?" demanded Antonio.

"Of whom should I speak but Count ---, to serve whom you abandoned me, being tempted by an offer of a monthly salary less by four dollars than that which I was giving you?"

"Your worship brings an affair to my remembrance which I had long since forgotten. I have at present no other master than yourself, _Monsieur Georges_, for I shall always consider you as my master, though I may not enjoy the felicity of waiting upon you."

"You have left the Count, then," said I, "after remaining three days in the house, according to your usual practice."

"Not three hours, _mon maitre_," replied Antonio; "but I will tell you the circ.u.mstances. Soon after I left you I repaired to the house of _Monsieur le Comte_; I entered the kitchen, and looked about me. I cannot say that I had much reason to be dissatisfied with what I saw: the kitchen was large and commodious, and everything appeared neat and in its proper place, and the domestics civil and courteous; yet, I know not how it was, the idea at once rushed into my mind that the house was by no means suited to me, and that I was not destined to stay there long; so, hanging my haversack upon a nail, and sitting down on the dresser, I commenced singing a Greek song, as I am in the habit of doing when dissatisfied. The domestics came about me, asking questions. I made them no answer, however, and continued singing till the hour for preparing the dinner drew nigh, when I suddenly sprang on the floor, and was not long in thrusting them all out of the kitchen, telling them that they had no business there at such a season. I then at once entered upon my functions. I exerted myself, _mon maitre_-I exerted myself, and was preparing a repast which would have done me honour; there was, indeed, some company expected that day, and I therefore determined to show my employer that nothing was beyond the capacity of his Greek cook. _Eh bien_, _mon maitre_, all was going on remarkably well, and I felt almost reconciled to my new situation, when who should rush into the kitchen but _le fils de la maison_, my young master, an ugly urchin of thirteen years or thereabouts. He bore in his hand a manchet of bread, which, after prying about for a moment, he proceeded to dip in the pan where some delicate woodc.o.c.ks were in the course of preparation. You know, _mon maitre_, how sensitive I am on certain points, for I am no Spaniard, but a Greek, and have principles of honour. Without a moment's hesitation I took my young master by the shoulders, and hurrying him to the door, dismissed him in the manner which he deserved. Squalling loudly, he hurried away to the upper part of the house. I continued my labours, but ere three minutes had elapsed, I heard a dreadful confusion above stairs, _on faisoit une horrible tintamarre_, and I could occasionally distinguish oaths and execrations. Presently doors were flung open, and there was an awful rushing downstairs, a gallopade. It was my lord the count, his lady, and my young master, followed by a regular bevy of women and _filles de chambre_. Far in advance of all, however, was my lord with a drawn sword in his hand, shouting, 'Where is the wretch who has dishonoured my son, where is he? He shall die forthwith.' I know not how it was, _mon maitre_, but I just then chanced to spill a large bowl of _garbanzos_, which were intended for the _puchera_ of the following day. They were uncooked, and were as hard as marbles; these I dashed upon the floor, and the greater part of them fell just about the doorway.

_Eh bien_, _mon maitre_, in another moment in bounded the count, his eyes sparkling like coals, and, as I have already said, with a rapier in his hand. '_Tenez_, _gueux enrage_,' he screamed, making a desperate lunge at me; but ere the words were out of his mouth, his foot slipping on the pease, he fell forward with great violence at his full length, and his weapon flew out of his hand, _comme une fleche_. You should have heard the outcry which ensued-there was a terrible confusion: the count lay upon the floor to all appearance stunned. I took no notice, however, continuing busily employed. They at last raised him up, and a.s.sisted him till he came to himself, though very pale and much shaken. He asked for his sword: all eyes were now turned upon me, and I saw that a general attack was meditated. Suddenly I took a large _ca.s.serole_ from the fire in which various eggs were frying; this I held out at arm's length, peering at it along my arm as if I were curiously inspecting it, my right foot advanced and the other thrown back as far as possible. All stood still, imagining, doubtless, that I was about to perform some grand operation, and so I was: for suddenly the sinister leg advancing, with one rapid _coup de pied_, I sent the _ca.s.serole_ and its contents flying over my head, so that they struck the wall far behind me. This was to let them know that I had broken my staff and had shaken the dust off my feet; so casting upon the count the peculiar glance of the Sceirote cooks when they feel themselves insulted, and extending my mouth on either side nearly as far as the ears, I took down my haversack and departed, singing as I went the song of the ancient Demos, who, when dying, asked for his supper, and water wherewith to lave his hands-

? ????? ?as??e?e, ?? ? ???? d?at??e?, S??te, pa?d?? ??, 's t? ?e??? ??? ?? f?t' ?p??e. {164}

And in this manner, _mon maitre_, I left the house of the Count of ---."

_Myself_.-And a fine account you have given of yourself; by your own confession, your behaviour was most atrocious. Were it not for the many marks of courage and fidelity which you have exhibited in my service, I would from this moment hold no further communication with you.

_Antonio_.-_Mais qu'est ce que vous voudriez_, _mon maitre_? Am I not a Greek, full of honour and sensibility? Would you have the cooks of Sceira and Stambul submit to be insulted here in Spain by the sons of counts rushing into the temple with manchets of bread? _Non_, _non_, _mon maitre_, you are too n.o.ble to require that, and what is more, _too just_. But we will talk of other things. _Mon maitre_, I came not alone, there is one now waiting in the corridor anxious to speak to you.

_Myself_.-Who is it?

_Antonio_.-One whom you have met, _mon maitre_, in various and strange places.

_Myself_.-But who is it?

_Antonio_.-One who will come to a strange end, _for so it is written_.

The most extraordinary of all the Swiss, he of Saint James-_Der Schatz Graber_. {165}

_Myself_.-Not Benedict Mol?

"_Yaw_, _mein lieber Herr_," said Benedict, pushing open the door which stood ajar; "it is myself. I met _Herr Anton_ in the street, and hearing that you were in this place, I came with him to visit you."

_Myself_.-And in the name of all that is singular, how is it that I see you in Madrid again? I thought that by this time you were returned to your own country.

_Benedict_.-Fear not, _lieber Herr_, I shall return thither in good time; but not on foot, but with mules and coach. The _Schatz_ is still yonder, waiting to be dug up, and now I have better hope than ever; plenty of friends, plenty of money. See you not how I am dressed, _lieber Herr_?

And verily his habiliments were of a much more respectable appearance than any which he had sported on former occasions. His coat and pantaloons, which were of light green, were nearly new. On his head he still wore an Andalusian hat, but the present one was neither old nor shabby, but fresh and glossy, and of immense alt.i.tude of cone; whilst in his hand, instead of the ragged staff which I had observed at Saint James and Oviedo, he now carried a huge bamboo rattan, surmounted by the grim head of either a bear or lion, curiously cut out of pewter.

"You have all the appearance of a treasure-seeker returned from a successful expedition," I exclaimed.

"Or rather," interrupted Antonio, "of one who has ceased to trade on his own bottom, and now goes seeking treasures at the cost and expense of others."

I questioned the Swiss minutely concerning his adventures since I last saw him, when I left him at Oviedo to pursue my route to Santander. From his answers I gathered that he had followed me to the latter place; he was, however, a long time in performing the journey, being weak from hunger and privation. At Santander he could hear no tidings of me, and by this time the trifle which he had received from me was completely exhausted. He now thought of making his way into France, but was afraid to venture through the disturbed provinces, lest he should fall into the hands of the Carlists, who he conceived might shoot him as a spy. No one relieving him at Santander, he departed and begged his way till he found himself in some part of Aragon, but where he scarcely knew. "My misery was so great," said Benedict, "that I nearly lost my senses. Oh, the horror of wandering about the savage hills and wide plains of Spain, without money and without hope! Sometimes I became desperate, when I found myself amongst rocks and _barrancos_, perhaps after having tasted no food from sunrise to sunset; and then I would raise my staff towards the sky and shake it, crying, _Lieber Herr Gott_, _ach lieber Herr Gott_, you must help me now or never; if you tarry I am lost; you must help me now, now! And once, when I was raving in this manner, methought I heard a voice-nay, I am sure I heard it-sounding from the hollow of a rock, clear and strong; and it cried, '_Der Schatz_, _der Schatz_, it is not yet dug up; to Madrid, to Madrid. The way to the _Schatz_ is through Madrid.' And then the thought of the _Schatz_ once more rushed into my mind, and I reflected how happy I might be, could I but dig up the _Schatz_. No more begging then; no more wandering amidst horrid mountains and deserts; so I brandished my staff, and my body and my limbs became full of new and surprising strength, and I strode forward, and was not long before I reached the high road; and then I begged and bettled as I best could, until I reached Madrid."

"And what has befallen you since you reached Madrid?" I inquired. "Did you find the treasure in the streets?"

On a sudden Benedict became reserved and taciturn, which the more surprised me, as, up to the present moment, he had at all times been remarkably communicative with respect to his affairs and prospects. From what I could learn from his broken hints and innuendos, it appeared that, since his arrival at Madrid, he had fallen into the hands of certain people who had treated him with kindness, and provided him both with money and clothes; not from disinterested motives, however, but having an eye to the treasure. "They expect great things from me," said the Swiss; "and perhaps, after all, it would have been more profitable to have dug up the treasure without their a.s.sistance, always provided that were possible." Who his new friends were he either knew not or would not tell me, save that they were people in power. He said something about Queen Christina and an oath which he had taken in the presence of a bishop on the crucifix and the four _Evangelien_. I thought that his head was turned, and forbore questioning. Just before taking his departure, he observed, "_Lieber Herr_, pardon me for not being quite frank towards you, to whom I owe so much, but I dare not; I am not now my own man. It is, moreover, an evil thing at all times to say a word about treasure before you have secured it. There was once a man in my own country who dug deep into the earth until he arrived at a copper vessel which contained a _Schatz_. Seizing it by the handle, he merely exclaimed in his transport, 'I have it!' that was enough, however: down sank the kettle, though the handle remained in his grasp. That was all he ever got for his trouble and digging. Farewell, _lieber Herr_, I shall speedily be sent back to Saint James to dig up the _Schatz_; but I will visit you ere I go-farewell."

CHAPTER XLII.

Liberation from Prison-The Apology-Human Nature-The Greek's Return-Church of Rome-Light of Scripture-Archbishop of Toledo-An Interview-Stones of Price-A Resolution-The Foreign Language-Benedict's Farewell-Treasure Hunt at Compostella-Truth and Fiction.

I remained about three weeks in the prison of Madrid, and then left it.