part01-第5章

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　　As　the　old　man's　heart　warmed　with　wine　and　wassail；　he　went　on　to

tell　us　a　story　of　the　buried　treasure　left　under　the　castle　by　the

Moorish　king。　His　own　house　was　next　to　the　foundations　of　the　castle。

The　curate　and　notary　dreamed　three　times　of　the　treasure；　and　went　to

work　at　the　place　pointed　out　in　their　dreams。　His　own　son…in…law

heard　the　sound　of　their　pickaxes　and　spades　at　night。　What　they　found

nobody　knows；　they　became　suddenly　rich；　but　kept　their　own　secret。

Thus　the　old　man　had　once　been　next　door　to　fortune；　but　was　doomed

never　to　get　under　the　same　roof。

　　I　have　remarked　that　the　stories　of　treasure　buried　by　the　Moors；　so

popular　throughout　Spain；　are　most　current　among　the　poorest　people。

Kind　nature　consoles　with　shadows　for　the　lack　of　substantials。　The

thirsty　man　dreams　of　fountains　and　running　streams；　the　hungry　man　of

banquets；　and　the　poor　man　of　heaps　of　hidden　gold：　nothing

certainly　is　more　opulent　than　the　imagination　of　a　beggar。

　　Our　afternoon's　ride　took　us　through　a　steep　and　rugged　defile　of

the　mountains；　called　Puerto　del　Rey；　the　Pass　of　the　King；　being

one　of　the　great　passes　into　the　territories　of　Granada；　and　the　one

by　which　King　Ferdinand　conducted　his　army。　Towards　sunset　the　road；

winding　round　a　hill；　brought　us　in　sight　of　the　famous　little

frontier　city　of　Loxa；　which　repulsed　Ferdinand　from　its　walls。　Its

Arabic　name　implies　〃guardian；〃　and　such　it　was　to　the　vega　of

Granada；　being　one　of　its　advanced　guards。　It　was　the　strong…hold　of

that　fiery　veteran；　old　Ali　Atar；　father…in…law　of　Boabdil；　and　here

it　was　that　the　latter　collected　his　troops；　and　sallied　forth　on　that

disastrous　foray　which　ended　in　the　death　of　the　old　alcayde　and　his

own　captivity。　From　its　commanding　position　at　the　gate；　as　it　were；

of　this　mountain　pass；　Loxa　has　not　unaptly　been　termed　the　key　of

Granada。　It　is　wildly　picturesque；　built　along　the　face　of　an　arid

mountain。　The　ruins　of　a　Moorish　alcazar　or　citadel　crown　a　rocky

mound　which　rises　out　of　the　centre　of　the　town。　The　river　Xenil

washes　its　base；　winding　among　rocks；　and　groves；　and　gardens；　and

meadows；　and　crossed　by　a　Moorish　bridge。　Above　the　city　all　is　savage

and　sterile；　below　is　the　richest　vegetation　and　the　freshest　verdure。

A　similar　contrast　is　presented　by　the　river；　above　the　bridge　it　is

placid　and　grassy；　reflecting　groves　and　gardens；　below　it　is　rapid；

noisy　and　tumultuous。　The　Sierra　Nevada；　the　royal　mountains　of

Granada；　crowned　with　perpetual　snow；　form　the　distant　boundary　to

this　varied　landscape；　one　of　the　most　characteristic　of　romantic

Spain。

　　Alighting　at　the　entrance　of　the　city；　we　gave　our　horses　to

Sancho　to　lead　them　to　the　inn；　while　we　strolled　about　to　enjoy　the

singular　beauty　of　the　environs。　As　we　crossed　the　bridge　to　a　fine

alameda；　or　public　walk；　the　bells　tolled　the　hour　of　oration。　At

the　sound　the　wayfarers；　whether　on　business　or　pleasure；　paused；　took

off　their　hats；　crossed　themselves；　and　repeated　their　evening　prayer…

a　pious　custom　still　rigidly　observed　in　retired　parts　of　Spain。

Altogether　it　was　a　solemn　and　beautiful　evening　scene；　and　we

wandered　on　as　the　evening　gradually　closed；　and　the　new　moon　began　to

glitter　between　the　high　elms　of　the　alameda。

　　We　were　roused　from　this　quiet　state　of　enjoyment　by　the　voice　of

our　trusty　squire　hailing　us　from　a　distance。　He　came　up　to　us；　out　of

breath。　〃Ah；　senores；〃　cried　he；　〃el　pobre　Sancho　no　es　nada　sin　Don

Quixote。〃　（〃Ah；　senores；　poor　Sancho　is　nothing　without　Don　Quixote。〃）

He　had　been　alarmed　at　our　not　coming　to　the　inn；　Loxa　was　such　a　wild

mountain　place；　full　of　contrabandistas；　enchanters；　and　infiernos；　he

did　not　well　know　what　might　have　happened；　and　set　out　to　seek　us；

inquiring　after　us　of　every　person　he　met；　until　he　traced　us　across

the　bridge；　and；　to　his　great　joy；　caught　sight　of　us　strolling　in　the

alameda。

　　The　inn　to　which　he　conducted　us　was　called　the　Corona；　or　Crown；

and　we　found　it　quite　in　keeping　with　the　character　of　the　place；

the　inhabitants　of　which　seem　still　to　retain　the　bold；　fiery　spirit

of　the　olden　time。　The　hostess　was　a　young　and　handsome　Andalusian

widow；　whose　trim　basquina　of　black　silk；　fringed　with　bugles；　set　off

the　play　of　a　graceful　form　and　round　pliant　limbs。　Her　step　was

firm　and　elastic；　her　dark　eye　was　full　of　fire；　and　the　coquetry　of

her　air；　and　varied　ornaments　of　her　person；　showed　that　she　was

accustomed　to　be　admired。

　　She　was　well　matched　by　a　brother；　nearly　about　her　own　age；　they

were　perfect　models　of　the　Andalusian　majo　and　maja。　He　was　tall；


vigorous；　and　well…formed；　with　a　clear　olive　complexion；　a　dark

beaming　eye；　and　curling　chestnut　whiskers　that　met　under　his　chin。　He

was　gallantly　dressed　in　a　short　green　velvet　jacket；　fitted　to　his

shape；　profusely　decorated　with　silver　buttons；　with　a　white

handkerchief　in　each　pocket。　He　had　breeches　of　the　same；　with　rows　of

buttons　from　the　hips　to　the　knees；　a　pink　silk　handkerchief　round　his

neck；　gathered　through　a　ring；　on　the　bosom　of　a　neatly…plaited　shirt；

a　sash　round　the　waist　to　match；　bottinas；　or　spatterdashes；　of　the

finest　russet　leather；　elegantly　worked；　and　open　at　the　calf　to

show　his　stockings　and　russet　shoes；　setting　off　a　well…shaped　foot。

　　As　he　was　standing　at　the　door；　a　horseman　rode　up　and　entered

into　low　and　earnest　conversation　with　him。　He　was　dressed　in　a

similar　style；　and　almost　with　equal　finery…　a　man　about　thirty；

square…built；　with　strong　Roman　features；　handsome；　though　slightly

pitted　with　the　small…pox；　with　a　free；　bold；　and　somewhat　daring　air。

His　powerful　black　horse　was　decorated　with　tassels　and　fanciful

trappings；　and　a　couple　of　broad…mouthed　blunderbusses　hung　behind　the

saddle。　He　had　the　air　of　one　of　those　contrabandistas　I　have　seen

in　the　mountains　of　Ronda；　and　evidently　had　a　good　understanding　with

the　brother　of　mine　hostess；　nay；　if　I　mistake　not；　he　was　a　favored

admirer　of　the　widow。　In　fact；　the　whole　inn　and　its　inmates　had

something　of　a　contrabandista　aspect；　and　a　blunderbuss　stood　in　a

corner　beside　the　guitar。　The　horseman　I　have　mentioned　passed　his

evening　in　the　posada；　and　sang　several　bold　mountain　romances　with

great　spirit。　As　we　were　at　supper；　two　poor　Asturians　put　in　in

distress；　begging　food　and　a　night's　lodging。　They　had　been　waylaid　by

robbers　as　they　came　from　a　fair　among　the　mountains；　robbed　of　a

horse；　which　carried　all　their　stock　in　trade；　stripped　of　their

money；　and　most　of　their　apparel；　beaten　for　having　offered

resistance；　and　left　almost　naked　in　the　road。　My　companion；　with　a

prompt　generosity　natural　to　him；　ordered　them　a　supper　and　a　bed；　and

gave　them　a　sum　of　money　to　help　them　forward　towards　their　home。

　　As　the　evening　advanced；　the　dramatis　personae　thickened。　A　large

man；　about　sixty　years　of　age；　of　powerful　frame；　came　strolling　in；

to　gossip　with　mine　hostess。　He　was　dressed　in　the　ordinary　Andalusian

costume；　but　had　a　huge　sabre　tucked　under　his　arm；　wore　large

moustaches；　and　had　something　of　a　lofty　swaggering　air。　Every　one

seemed　to　regard　him　with　great　deference。

　　Our　man　Sancho　whispered　to　us　that　he　was　Don　Ventura　Rodriguez；

the　hero　and　champion　of　Loxa；　famous　for　his　prowess　and　the　strength

of　his　arm。　In　the　time　of　the　French　invasion　he　surprised　six

troopers　who　were　asleep：　he　first　secured　their　horses；　then　attacked

them　with　his　sabre；　killed　some；　and　took　the　rest　prisoners。　For

this　exploit　the　king　allows　him　a　peseta　（the　fifth　of　a　duro；　or

dollar）　per　day；　and　has　dignified　him　with　the　title　of　Don。

　　I　was　amused　to　behold　his　swelling　language　and　demeanor。　He　was

evidently　a　thorough　Andalusian；　boastful　as　brave。　His　sabre　was

always　in　his　hand　or　under　his　arm。　He　carries　it　always　about　with

him　as　a　child　does　her　doll；　calls　it　his　Santa　Teresa；　and　says；

〃When　I　draw　it；　the　earth　trembles〃　（〃tiembla　la　tierra〃）。

　　I　sat　until　a　late　hour　listening　to　the　varied　themes　of　this

motley　group；　who　mingled　together　with　the　unreserve　of　a　Spanish

posada。　We　had　contrabandista　songs；　stories　of　robbers；　guerilla

exploits；　and　Moorish　legends。　The　last　were　from　our　handsome

landlady；　who　gave　a　poetical　account　of　the　infiernos；　or　infernal

regions　of　Loxa；　dark　caverns；　in　which　subterranean　streams　and

waterfalls　make　a　mysterious　sound。　The　common　people　say　that　there

are　money…coiners　shut　up　there　from　the　time　of　the　Moors；　and　that

the　Moorish　kings　kept　their　treasures　in　those　caverns。

　　I　retired　to　bed　with　my　imagination　excited　by　all　that　I　had

seen　and　heard　in　this　old　warrior　city。　Scarce　had　I　fallen　asleep

when　I　was　aroused　by　a　horrid　din　and　uproar；　that　might　have

confounded　the　hero　of　La　Mancha　himself　whose　experience　of　Spanish

inns　was　a　continual　uproar。　It　seemed　for　a　moment　as　if　the　Moors

were　once　more　breaking　into　the　town；　or　the　infiernos　of　which

mine　hostess　talked　had　broken　loose。　I　sallied　forth　half　dressed

to　reconnoiter。　It　was　nothing　more　nor　less　than　a　charivari　to

celebrate　the　nuptials　of　an　old　man　with　a　buxom　damsel。　Wishing

him　joy　of　his　bride　and　his　serenade；　I　returned　to　my　more　quiet

bed；　and　slept　soundly　until　morning。

　　While　dressing；　I　amused　myself　in　reconnoitering　the　populace

from　my　window。　There　were　groups　of　fine…looking　young　men　in　the

trim　fanciful　Andalusian　costume；　with　brown　cloaks；　thrown　about　them

in　true　Spanish　style；　which　cannot　be　imitated；　and　little　round　majo

hats　stuck　on　with　a　peculiar　knowing　air。　They　had　the　same

galliard　look　which　I　have　remarked　among　the　dandy　mountaineers　of

Ronda。　Indeed；　all　this　part　of　Andalusia　abounds　with　such

game…looking　characters。　They　loiter　about　the　towns　and　villages；

seem　to　have　plenty　of　time　and　plenty　of　money：　〃horse　to　ride　and

weapon　to　wear。〃　Great　gossips；　great　smokers；　apt　at　touching　the

guitar；　singing　couplets　to　their　maja　belles；　and　famous　dancers　of

the　bolero。　Throughout　all　Spain　the　men；　however　poor；　have　a

gentleman…like　abundance　of　leisure；　seeming　to　consider　it　the

attribute　of　a　true　cavaliero　never　to　be　in　a　hurry；　but　the

Andalusians　are　gay　as　well　as　leisurely；　and　have　none　of　the　squalid

accompaniments　of　idleness。　The　adventurous　contraband　trade　which

prevails　throughout　these　mountain　regions；　and　along　the　maritime

borders　of　Andalusia；　is　doubtless　at　the　bottom　of　this　galliard

character。

　　In　contrast　to　the　costume　of　these　groups　was　that　of　two

long…legged　Valencians　conducting　a　donkey；　laden　with　articles　of

merchandise；　their　musket　slung　crosswise　over　his　back　ready　for

action。　They　wore　round　jackets　（jalecos）；　wide　linen　bragas　or

drawers　scarce　reaching　to　the　knees　and　looking　like　kilts；　red　fajas

or　sashes　swathed　tightly　round　their　waists；　sandals　of　espartal　or

bass　weed；　colored　kerchiefs