From the French of Charles Nodier.
Originally published in Bentley's Miscellany (Richard Bentley).
One evening, when I was sitting with a party of friends at twilight, and several of them had related marvellous tales of haunted houses, witches, &c., I was called on in my turn to tell a ghost story, and was desired to think of one without unnecessary delay. "I shall find no difficulty in complying with your request," said I, "for I once witnessed the strangest apparition you can possibly imagine. But, observe, what I shall narrate is really no fiction; it is a simple fact, which I shall eventually explain." My friends drew their chairs eagerly towards me, and waited with considerable anxiety for me to commence my tale:—
It was towards the latter part of the year 1812, when I was captain in the dragoons, that to garrisoned at Gironne, in the department du Ter. My colonel found it necessary to send me to Barcelona, where, on the day following Christmas-day, a market—celebrated throughout Catalonia for the horses which it offered for sale—would be held as usual. He deemed it advisable that two lieutenants of our regiment should accompany me; the name of one was Sergy, that of the other Boutraix; they happened to be my particular friends. It will be as well for me to give you a slight sketch of the character of each of these men, as they took a prominent part in the story I am going to tell you.
Sergy was one of that description of young officers that the schools then frequently sent forth into the world; and, at first, he had to overcome some antipathy and many prejudices before he was liked by his comrades—but for this a very short time sufficed. His countenance was extremely pleasing; his manners were excessively refined and elegant; he possessed ready wit and brilliant imagination, and his bravery was undoubted. There was scarcely any accomplishment in which he did not excel, but his delicate and sensitive organization rendered him particularly alive to the charms of music. He would be filled with enthusiasm, and tears of emotion would start into his eyes on listening to an instrument touched by a skilful hand, or to a beautiful voice, especially if it was a woman's voice, and that woman was pretty. His raptures were then frequently like those of a delirious person, and I really sometimes trembled for his reason. After what I have just said, you will very naturally imagine that Sergy's heart was particularly susceptible of love: indeed, I scarcely know when he was free from one of those violent passions, upon which the whole of a man's after-life would seem to depend. Fortunately, the exalted nature of his imagination kept him from any of the excesses of this passion. He sought for a mind as ardent as his own, with which he could entirely sympathise, and he was constantly deluding himself with the idea that he had at length met with a being perfectly suited to him; so that the idol of one day was cast off the next, when he found that she was without the charms with which his imagination had invested her. When he had arrived at the humiliating conviction that he had been mistaken, he was in the habit of remarking, that the unknown object of his wishes and hopes was not an inhabitant of the earth; but he still continued to seek, and, of course, to be deceived again, as he had been a thousand times before. From his natural excitability and extraordinary sensitiveness, he was disposed to lend a ready ear to the marvellous: perhaps he was superstitious from the nature of his education; but, at any rate, his peculiar disposition rendered him still more so. His belief, therefore, in the imaginary mistress, which the world of spirits had destined for him, was not a mere freak of fancy—it formed the favourite subject of his thoughts and dreams.
Boutraix offered a complete contrast to Sergy. He was a tall, robust fellow. Like Sergy, however, in being full of honour, integrity, and bravery; but his features were common-place, and his mind resembled his features. He could form no notion of that love which was the result of one mind sympathising with another—the love of the head and heart, which was sufficient to influence a man's whole life, he believed it to be a pure creation of poets and novel-writers. He occasionally indulged himself in the love which he did understand, but he allowed it to occupy no more of his time than it merited. To the pleasures of the table he was not equally indifferent, and he was always the last to quit it; unless, indeed, there was a lack of wine. His intellectual life was composed of a very limited number of ideas: some of these were so completely fixed in his mind, that it was impossible to root them out. The difficulty he found in proving anything by sound argument, induced him to deny everything. Any conclusion which had been rationally drawn from belief or feeling, was treated by him as an absurdity. He would shrug his shoulders, and exclaim: "'Tis all fanaticism or prejudice!" if the person obstinately persisted in his opinion, he would then quietly lean on the back of his chair, and continue to whistle till the discussion had ended. Though he had never read more than two pages of Voltaire and Piron, whom he considered a philosopher, he believed himself perfectly acquainted with those authors, and quoted them on all occasions. But, with all his oddities, Boutraix was an excellent fellow, and, above all, a capital judge of horses.
As we were to choose our own conveyance to Barcelona, we resolved to avail ourselves of the arrieros (or carriers) which are to be seen in numbers at Gironne. We presumed too much, alas! on the idea that we should be able to meet with one whenever we wished. Christmas-eve, and the market which was to take place on the following day, drew numbers of travellers from all parts of Catalonia; and, unfortunately, we had waited till the very day for procuring a vehicle. At eleven o'clock of that morning, we were still looking out for an arriero, and there was only one which we had a chance of securing, and that was just ready to start from the door.
"Curse your carriage and mules!" shouted Boutraix, who was mad with rage—and he seated himself on the shaft. "May all the devils of hell be let loose on your path! What! do you not now intend us to go by you?"
The arriero shook his head, and drew back a step or two.
"God have you in his holy keeping, Master Estevan," said I, with a smile ; "have you any passengers?"
"I certainly cannot correctly say that I have passengers, but I have one passenger," answered the arriero, "and he is the Seigneur Bascara, the manager of the theatre, who is going to join his company at Barcelona; he remained behind to accompany the baggage—I mean to say that portmanteau full of finery and gewgaws, which would scarcely furnish a load for a single donkey."
"Ah, ah! Master Estevan, nothing could happen better; for your carriage has room for four persons. The Seigneur Bascara will, I dare say, willingly allow us to pay our share of the journey, and he may pocket the money, for we shall say nothing about the arrangement. Be so good as to ask him if he will permit us to accompany him."
Bascara readily agreed to our proposal, and we started at noon from Gironne. The morning was as beautiful a morning as could be expected at that time of year; but we had scarcely passed the last houses of the town before the light mists, which we had previously observed gathering in the sky, changed into a thick rain. This, in a short time, came down in such torrents, that the roads became very heavy and dangerous in parts, and at sunset we found ourselves a long distance from Barcelona. At length we reached Mattaro, where we resolved to sleep, simply because our equipage could go no farther; but, alas! there was no accommodation for us at the inn.
"Some fatality seems to pursue us on our journey," remarked the arriero, when he informed us of this misfortune. "There is actually no lodging left for us, except in the Château Ghismondo."
"We will soon see if that is the case," exclaimed I, as I leaped from the chaise. "I require a stable, a room, and refreshments," said I to the hostess, in that kind of imperious tone which we had generally found to answer on these occasions; "and these without loss of time; it is in the service of the emperor."
"Heyday, captain," cried the good dame, with the most perfect assurance; "if the emperor himself were to apply for a lodging, he would not even find standing room in our hostelry. Provisions and wine you can have in plenty; for, thanks to heaven, there is no difficulty in procuring them in a town like this. But, on my word of honour, there is not lodging to be had—save in the Château Ghismondo."
"I only wish this terrible castle was really not far off," said I; "for I would certainly sooner pass the night in it, than in the street."
"Well, that's not at all a bad idea; the Château Ghismondo is only three-quarters of a league from here, and shelter is to be found in it at all times and seasons: though people seldom avail themselves of this advantage; you Frenchmen are not men to yield a comfortable lodging to the devil. If you like this plan, your carriage shall be filled with everything necessary to make you pass a merry night, unless you happen to be disturbed by some mysterious visitor."
In ten minutes after this discussion our conveyance was so crammed with good things, that the smallest person could not have inserted himself. We had resolved to proceed on foot.
"Where are we to go, captain?" asked the arriero, who was a little surprised at our preparations.
"Where are we to go?—my poor Estevan! why, to the Château Ghismondo, in all human probability."
"To the Château Ghismondo! Then may the blessed Virgin have mercy upon us. My mules would not even dare to undertake the journey there."
"They will undertake it, however," and I slipt a few pieces of money into his hand; "for they will have a luxurious feed after their fatigue; and remember, my good fellow, there are three excellent bottles of old wine of Palamos for yourself."
"Do we really go to the Château Ghismondo?" inquired Bascara. "Are you aware, gentlemen, what the Château Ghismondo is? Nobody has ever sought shelter there with impunity, or without having made a previous compact with the evil spirit. No! not for millions would I enter it: no, I am quite resolved not to attempt it."
"I am quite certain that you will accompany us. However, my excellent Bascara," said Boutraix, while he encircled the manager with a muscular arm, "would it become a brave Castilian to be scared away from a place on account of an absurd tradition? No, no! proceed, my good Bascara, and rest assured that if the devil attempts to molest you, Lieutenant Boutraix will step in between you. By heavens, I should only like to witness such a thing."
In the meantime we had advanced some way on our road, but I must say that the mules did not press forward very willingly, for they were already much overworked and required provender.
"After all," observed Sergy, "we have not yet heard why the Château de Ghismondo is such an object of dread to so many people. Perhaps it is haunted by ghosts."
"More likely by robbers," replied I; "there is generally some foundation for these superstitious terrors."
"Is it possible," said Estevan, in a faltering voice, "that anybody is unacquainted with the history of the Castle of Ghismondo? If the gentlemen would like to know anything about it, I shall be very happy to satisfy their curiosity; for my father was once inside it. Ah! he was a good creature, God forgive him for loving drink a little too much."
"Pray tell us the story," cried Sergy, eagerly.
"Oh, that unfortunate Ghismondo!" said Estevan, and then he lowered his voice to a whisper, as if he feared to be heard by some unseen witness, "Unfortunate he was, indeed," continued he, "for he drew upon himself the inexorable anger of God. At the age of twenty-five, Ghismondo became the head of the noble family of Las Sierras, which is so celebrated in our chronicles; it is about three hundred years ago since the time of which I am speaking, but the exact year is mentioned in the chronicle. He was a handsome, generous, and brave knight, and possessed such captivating manners, that wherever he went he was welcome; but, unfortunately, he was rather fond of bad company, and did not keep in mind the fear and love of God. At length he became so notorious for his profligacy, and his prodigality had so completely ruined him, that he was obliged to shut himself up in the very castle in which you have so imprudently resolved to spend the night, for this was all that was left of his rich patrimony. In this retreat he passed the rest of his days, being delighted to escape his creditors and the many enemies which his reckless passions had made him. His companions were an esquire (who had led as bad a life as himself), and a young page, the corruption of whose mind had far outstepped his years. There were besides, in the castle, a few armed men, who had joined in many of the crimes of Ghismondo and his two friends, and who had therefore resolved to follow his fortunes. One of the first expeditions which Ghismondo undertook after he had established himself in the château, was for the purpose of procuring himself a companion of the other sex; and, like the vile bird which defiles its nest, he selected his victim from the bosom of his own family. Some said, however, that Inez de las Sierras (this was the name of his niece) had not been unwillingly carried off.
"However that may be, it is certain that all at once the fair Inez, who had received a Christian education, became horror-struck at the sinful life she had been leading. Her soul had suddenly been illumined by a ray of divine grace, and at midnight, on this same night of the year which recals to the mind of the faithful, the Saviour's birth, she entered the banqueting hall, contrary to her usual habit, where these three wicked men were seated round the hearth, and were indulging in the most awful excess. Her faith so completely inspired her that she forgot all fear while she addressed the three sinners, and pictured to them in the most eloquent words, the wickedness of their deeds, and the horror of that eternal punishment which awaits all those who turn not from their evil courses. She wept and prayed, and threw herself at the feet of Ghismondo, and as she placed her white hand on his heart, which had so lately beaten with the emotion of love, she strove to awaken in his breast some feelings of humanity. But, alas! she had undertaken a task beyond her strength, for Ghismondo, being stimulated at length by his barbarous companions, plunged his dagger into her bosom."
"The monster!" exclaimed Sergy, deeply affected by the story.
"This horrible crime," pursued Estevan, "did not in the least diminish their mirth, and they continued to drink and sing licentious songs in the presence of the dead body, till three o'clock in the morning, when the men-at-arms, who had discovered that the sounds of revelry had ceased, entered the banquet hall, and found four bodies stretched on the ground in the midst of pools of blood and wine. The three drunkards were carried off to their beds, and the corpse was placed in its winding sheet. The vengeance of Heaven, however, did not sleep, for Ghismondo's eyes were scarcely closed when Inez entered his chamber, she was pale and covered with blood; she wore a shroud, and soon held forth a flaming hand, which she at length placed heavily on his heart, on the exact spot on which she had laid it a few hours before. Ghismondo seemed nailed to the bed by some irresistible power, and in vain attempted to escape from the horrible apparition; he could express his agony only in sighs and groans. The flaming hand appeared actually fastened to the place, and the heart of Ghismondo burnt and continued to burn until sunrise, when the phantom disappeared. His accomplices were visited in a similar manner by the ghost of Inez. The next day, and every day during that never-ending year, the three wretched men sought each other's eyes, to learn, if possible, from their expression, the nature of their dreams, for they did not dare to speak upon the subject. The love of excitement and gain, however, soon plunged them into fresh crimes, and at night they revelled in all kinds of excess, in order to drive away thought, and to keep off sleep as much as they could, because they dreaded its approach on account of their nightly visitant.
"At length the anniversary of the 24th of December arrived, and the three friends were sitting as usual round the hearth at their evening meal. Suddenly, just as the clock struck twelve, they heard a voice in the adjoining gallery, and in a few seconds afterwards Inez entered the banqueting hall.
"Here I am," cried she, and she cast aside her funeral drapery, and sat down with them, richly dressed, as she used to do.
"To their infinite terror, she began to eat bread and drink wine as if she were living, then she proceeded to dance and sing, and to amuse them as had been her wont; all at once her hand began to blaze just as they had seen it in their dreams, and she placed it on Ghismondo's heart, as well as on the esquire's, and the page's; instantly all was over, for, in a few minutes, the heart of each of these sinners was reduced to cinders. The men-at-arms came into the banqueting hall as usual at three o'clock, and this time they had to carry away four dead bodies.
"But this is not all," pursued Estevan. "And I entreat you to listen to me for an instant before you decide on spending the night in the castle. Since the death of Ghismondo, his retreat has become hateful to everybody, and is left in the possession of the devil; even the road which leads to it is deserted, as you may observe; all that is known now is, that every year, on the 24th of December, at midnight, each window in the château becomes immediately illuminated, and those who have had courage to enter the dread abode, have seen the spirits of the knight, the esquire, and the page, and Inez, visit the banquet hall, and have witnessed the same scene as I have described on that memorable 24th of December. This is the doom assigned to them till the end of all time."
These last words made Boutraix burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter.
"Go to the devil," cried he, while he slapped the arriero familiarly on the shoulder; "nothing but prejudice, my good Castilian; this is one of the old grandmothers' tales of the superstitious times which are no longer credited in Spain. Come, spur on your mules, I would drink a toast to Satan himself to see the supper sooner prepared."
"These were exactly my father's words," remarked Estevan.
"Well, but," said Sergy, "you have not yet told us what your father saw, that so terrified him."
"Exactly what I mentioned before, gentlemen; after having passed a long gallery of portraits, he came to the entrance of the banqueting room, and there he saw the ghosts of Ghismondo, of his esquire and page, and beheld Inez showing them a bleeding wound in her bosom, and she began to dance and to approach him with the others, when suddenly my father remembered the horrible story which he had heard, and sank to the ground as if he were dead, and when he came to himself the next morning, he found himself on the steps of the parish church."
"Where he had fallen asleep the night before," said Boutraix, "because he had taken too much wine; it was a drunkard's dream, my poor Estevan; but this infernal château, are we never to reach it?"
"We are here at last," said Estevan.
"And not too soon, for I actually hear thunder, a most extraordinary thing at this time of the year," observed Sergy.
"It may always be heard at this particular season, near the Château Ghismondo," replied the arriero.
He had scarcely ceased speaking, when a vivid flash of lightning darted from the heavens, and displayed the white walls of the old castle to our view. The chief entrance appeared to have been long closed, but the principal hinges had broken away from the stones which supported them, owing to the action of the air upon them for centuries, so that we managed with our swords to carve a passage through the crumbling doorway, and immediately found ourselves in the fore-court. On its left was a projecting roof, which formed a covering to a kind of cattle shed; this had been formerly used as a shelter for the horses of the governor of the castle from the inclemency of the season; we were exceedingly delighted when we perceived this rough stable, for it was just what we required for housing the mules and carriage.
"This will do famously for my mules," cried Estevan, who appeared more contented and composed than he had been during the journey, "and you know, gentlemen, that there is a proverb which says, 'that the muleteer is always comfortable wherever his mules are well lodged,' and I feel, with a little bit of something to eat, and the three bottles of wine which the captain promised me, I shall do well."
"Here they are," exclaimed I, "and two loaves and a quarter of roast lamb besides, for your supper; you will not fare badly, I think; and now, having taken care of your comfort as well as the mules, we must lose no time in preparing our own repast."
We lighted four torches, and then mounted the grand staircase, which was strewn with dust and litter; when we reached the landing-place on the first story we rested a moment to take breath; on our left was a long corridor, which was so narrow and so dark that our torches could not pierce its obscurity; immediately before us was a door, or rather there had been one, which led to various apartments; we continued to pursue our inquiries, and at length we entered a gallery, the walls of which I perceived were hung with portraits; to these I eagerly drew the attention of my companions, who had not yet remarked them.
"Yes, pictures," cried Boutraix, "as certain as there is a God in heaven. Is it possible that the drunken father of that simpleton of an arriero, could have come as far as this?"
"Impossible, you know," remarked Sergy, with a scornful smile, "for, if you remember, he fell asleep on the steps of the parish church, because he was so tipsy that he could go no farther."
"My good fellow, I am not asking you for your opinion," said Boutraix, while he produced his eye-glass, and began to examine minutely the broken frames. "Yes, they are actually pictures, and, if I mistake not, they are portraits of the family of Las Sierras."
Sergy meanwhile had seized a torch, and was gazing eagerly at one of the portraits.
"Look," cried he, "look at this knight of the gloomy countenance, this must be Ghismondo himself; how admirably the painter has expressed in his young features all the lassitude of voluptuousness, and the wear and tear of crime! It makes one melancholy to look upon it."
"Well, the portrait next to it," said I, " will refresh your eyes, after gazing at its gloomy companion," while I inwardly smiled at his conjecture; "it is the portrait of a woman, and if it was in a better state of preservation, and nearer to us, you would certainly fall into raptures on the charms of Inez de las Sierras, for you may easily imagine it is her. What an elegant and dignified figure, and what a graceful attitude! what an arm and hand! This is exactly what Inez ought to be."
"And what she was," said Sergy, with warmth. "Come here," cried he, while he dragged me after him, "I have found a good light for it, and have managed to catch the expression of the eyes. I never beheld eyes which appealed more completely to the soul—'t is life-like."
"Wait, wait a moment," exclaimed Boutraix, whose tall figure enabled him to reach the frame; "there is a name written here in German, or Hebrew, for aught I know," and he grasped hold of the picture; "I would as soon take the trouble of explaining the Koran," said he.
"Inez de las Sierras, Inez de las Sierras," cried Sergy, enthusiastically; "read for yourselves."
"Hither gentlemen, follow me," shouted Boutraix, who had left us looking at the portraits. "Here is a hall of reception, which will make us forget all regret at quitting Mattaro; why, faith, 't is a banquet room worthy of a prince."
The hall to which Boutraix drew our attention was in a much better state of preservation than any other part of the castle; it was lighted at one end by two very narrow windows, which, from their particular position, had remained tolerably uninjured from the effects of age and climate. The hangings of printed leather, and the strange antique chairs gave to the whole apartment an air of rude magnificence; there was a round table, too, which immediately brought to our recollection the impious revels in which Ghismondo was said to have indulged.
It cost us several journeys to bring hither our provisions, as well as wood for making a fire; we found everything safe, however, even Bascara's trunk of finery, and at length we had carried in all the good cheer for our evening meal.
"I should not wonder," remarked I, "if our party of to-night were to add a fresh pretext for the credulity of the inhabitants; it is just the hour when Ghismondo is said to come every year to take part in his infernal banquet, and our lights, which must be seen through the windows, will certainly cause the superstitious to think that a feast of demons is going forward; I dare say it was upon a similar circumstance that Estevan's story was founded."
"And perhaps, too," remarked Boutraix, "some persons who happened to be here on a 24th of December, amused themselves in dressing up and performing the parts of Ghismondo and his comrades; now, here is a, knight's suit, which seems as if it had been made for the captain, and there is another which I think will make me look the picture of the esquire, this page's coquetish costume is admirably adapted for relieving the drooping though handsome countenance of my good friend Sergy; pray confess that this is a glorious idea of mine, and that it promises us a night of glorious fun and gaiety."
While Boutraix was chattering, he had attired himself from head to foot, and we had followed his example, laughing heartily all the time.
"But who is to personate the fair Inez, we never thought of that; it seems to me that no one could better perform her part than the amiable Bascara, to whom nature has been very bountiful in external gifts, if he would only do us this favour."
"Gentlemen," replied Bascara, "I have no objection to assist in any joke which does not concern the welfare of my soul, but in this affair my conscience will not allow me to join; you will learn, perhaps to your cost, that you cannot brave the powers of hell with impunity."
"That will do, my good fellow," exclaimed Boutraix, "keep your chair, and eat, drink, pray, and sleep; don't alarm yourself, Inez never comes till dessert, and I only hope she may come."
"God preserve us from such a thing!" cried Bascara.
Our supper was ready, and accordingly we seated ourselves; I took a place opposite the fire, Boutraix, the esquire, was on my right hand, and Sergy, the page, on my left. Inez's seat was opposite to me, and was unoccupied. I glanced round the table, and perceived that, notwithstanding our attempt at a joke, we were all mightily serious. Sergy, who was always more easily impressed than Boutraix and I, seemed more affected by the scene than we were. We drank plenty of wine, not having much else to do; at length we discovered, by our watches, it was exactly twelve o'clock, we took another bottle of wine, and when we had nearly finished it we shouted out joyfully, "Midnight, and Inez de las Sierras has not yet visited us," and we laughed merrily that we should all have happened to make so absurd an observation.
"Zounds!" cried Boutraix, as he attempted to rise, though rather unsteadily; "we will drink the health of the demoiselle Inez de las Sierras, and her speedy deliverance from torment."
"To the health of the fair Inez," said Sergy.
"To her health," replied I, as I touched their glasses.
"Here I am," answered a voice which seemed to proceed from the adjoining gallery of pictures.
"Humph!" muttered Boutraix seating himself again, "it's not a bad joke whoever has played it."
I looked behind me, and saw Bascara pale and trembling with fear.
"That rogue of a muleteer has taken too much wine," said I, "and is amusing himself at our expense."
"Here I am! here I am!" repeated the same voice, "a hearty greeting and welcome to the guests of the Château Ghismondo."
"It is a woman's voice, and a young woman's too," said Sergy, and he rose from his chair with elegant self-possession.
Precisely at the same moment we perceived a white phantom at the farther end of the hall; suddenly it moved towards us with—rapidity, and when it reached us, it threw off its winding-sheet.
"Here I am!" said the phantom, and seated itself in Inez's place, at the same time it sighed deeply, and pushed aside its long black hair, which was carelessly confined with bows of cherry-coloured ribbon; none of us had ever beheld such refined and regular description of beauty.
"There is no question about its being a woman," said I in an under tone, "and since we are all agreed that whatever happens must be explained by some natural circumstance, we have nothing to do but to follow the rules of French politeness,—the result will clear up the mystery, if it can be cleared up."
We resumed our seats, and offered refreshment to the unknown, who appeared to be perfectly famished; she eat and drank without speaking; in a few minutes, indeed, she seemed to have forgotten all about us, and each of us fell into a train of thought, as if some fairy had exercised her influence over us. Bascara had fallen at my feet, and looked exactly as if he were dead; Boutraix scarcely breathed, and his tipsy riotousness was exchanged for profound dejection. Sergy was quite as powerfully affected, but in a very different way—his eyes were fixed upon the apparition with all the ardour of love, and he appeared fearful of losing sight of her for a moment, as if he dreaded that she would vanish like a beautiful dream. The unknown was not more than twenty years of age, but misfortune or death had imprinted on her features that peculiar character of unchangeable perfection, of never-varying regularity, which the chisel of the ancients has perpetuated in the figures of their gods. I was more struck, however, with her dress than with her features; I felt persuaded that I had seen the same costume only a short time before, and I soon recollected that I had observed it in Inez's portrait in the gallery. Her attire seemed to belong to the same period as our own, but it was not quite so fresh; she wore a gown of green damask, which was still very rich, but faded and creased; it was ornamented with discoloured ribbon, and must certainly have belonged to the wardrobe of a lady who had died a century before. I almost dreaded to touch it for fear I should recognise the cold humidity of the tomb, but I refused to indulge in an idea, which to a reasonable mind was so utterly absurd.
"Pray what occasions this silence, noble knights?" said she at length with a reproachful smile; "when I entered the banqueting-hall it resounded with your mirth and merry peals of laughter, and now you are all mute and grave as if I had disturbed your gaiety."
"Pardon us, Madame," replied Sergy, "it is the sudden and unexpected appearance of a person endowed with so many charms which has rendered us all dumb with admiration."
"My friend does us only justice," said I; "it is impossible to express the feeling which your presence excites, your visit was altogether so astonishing to us, for how should we expect it in these ruins which have been so long left desolate?"
"You must be welcome, Madame, wherever you make your appearance; we wait respectfully till you choose to inform us to whom we have the honour of addressing ourselves, before we pay you those attentions which we owe you."
"My name!" said she eagerly,—' what, do you not know it? God is my witness that I only came because you called me."
"You only came at our invitation?" stuttered forth Boutraix, and at the same time he covered his face with his hands.
"Certainly," replied Inez, "I understand propriety too well to think of intruding myself: I am Inez de las Sierras."
"Inez de las Sierras!" cried Boutraix, more terrified than if he had seen a thunderbolt fall at his feet.
I examined her steadily, still I could not trace anything like falsehood or pretence in the expression of her countenance.
"Madame," said I, while I endeavoured to appear a little more calm than I really felt; "though the disguise which we have adopted from innocent exuberance of spirits may not be exactly fitted for so holy a day as this, be assured that beneath it you will find men who are not to be moved by any consideration of fear. Whatever your name may be, and whatever your motive for concealing it, you may rely on receiving a hearty and respectful welcome from us, and we will willingly acknowledge you Inez de las Sierras for the time, if it suits your fancy, for circumstances authorise your droll whim, and so much beauty gives you the right to personate her; it is a prestige which is all-subduing, but we beg you thoroughly to understand that this confession, which costs little to our politeness, cannot be extorted from our credulity."
"I have not the slightest wish to impose upon your credulity," replied Inez with dignity, "but surely no one will refuse to believe my name is Inez de las Sierras, when I declare it to be so in the house of my fathers. Heaven knows," continued she, with rapidly increasing emotion, "I have paid too dearly for my first fault, to imagine that God's vengeance is satisfied by this expiation; but may the mercy which I expect from him at last, and in which I place my sole hope, abandon me, and may I finally be delivered up to the torments which now devour me, if I speak not the truth, and Inez de las Sierras is not my name; yes, I am Inez de las Sierras, the unfortunate and guilty Inez! What interest should I have in assuming a name which I have so many reasons for wishing to conceal? and what motive have you for disbelieving the already sufficiently painful confession of an unfortunate creature whose fate should inspire nothing but pity?"
Tears filled her eyes, and Sergy, who was much moved by her distress, drew closer to her.
"But I have a proof, Seigneur," added she, while she hastily unfastened a bracelet from her arm, and pushed it contemptuously towards me; "this," continued she, "is the last present my mother made me, and the only valuable jewel which is left to me from all that I inherited from her; now judge for yourselves whether I am of such base origin as to minister to the amusement of the populace."
I took up the bracelet and examined it minutely, and soon discovered that the name of Las Sierras was wrought in emeralds in the centre of it. I immediately handed it to her, and bowed respectfully at the same time.
"If you want further proof," cried she in a state of delirious excitement, "look, look!" and she tore open the clasp of her dress, and displayed the scar in her bosom—"this is where the dagger struck me; surely the account of my misfortunes must have reached you?"
"Ah, woe is me! ah, misery!" cried Boutraix, and he rose from his chair in a state of inexpressible agitation.
"Oh, men, men!" exclaimed Inez bitterly, "they feel no compunction in killing women, but they fear to look upon their wounds."
Inez became calm, and we all again relapsed into silence, and this time it remained long unbroken. Boutraix was in a state of speechless terror, and incapable of reasoning; Sergy had given himself up to the delicious raptures of a growing passion, and I to the profound meditation of those great mysteries upon which I had so often speculated, but which I now scarcely ventured an attempt to fathom. Meantime, the expression of Inez's countenance became more animated—at length she said:
"But, gentlemen, I must apologize to you for so long delaying to acknowledge the honour which you did me when I entered the hall," as she spoke, she rose from her seat with the most perfect grace, and presented her glass to us, while she added, "Gentlemen, Inez de las Sierras, in her turn, drinks to your health. To you, noble knight, and may heaven smile graciously on all your undertakings. To you, melancholy esquire, whose natural gaiety seems disturbed by some secret grief, may happier days restore you to unclouded serenity. To. you, handsome page, who appear to be occupied by more pleasing and gentle thoughts, may the woman who is fortunate enough to possess your love be worthy of it, and if you do not yet love, may you soon bestow your affection on a beautiful creature who loves you in return."
"I love, I love for ever!" cried Sergy, "who could behold you and not love you! To Inez de las Sierras! to the beautiful Inez!"
"To Inez de las Sierras," said I, as I rose from my chair.
"To Inez de las Sierras," murmured Boutraix, without changing his position, and, for the first time in his life, he drank this health, solemnly, without sipping his wine.
"To you all," replied Inez, and she touched her glass for the second time with her lips, but she did not empty it.
Sergy took it up eagerly, and drained it at a draught; I scarcely know why, but I would have given anything to prevent him. I pictured to myself that he was drinking to his death.
"This is one of the most agreeable evenings I ever remember to have spent," pursued Inez, "we are all so happy and gay; the only thing which we want is a little music; do you not think so, Seigneur esquire?"
"Oh!" cried Boutraix, who could scarcely articulate, "does she intend to sing?"
"Sing, sing," said Sergy, while he touched her beautiful hair with his trembling fingers; "I, who love you so deeply, ask it as a favour."
"I will with great pleasure, if I can," replied Inez, "but I fear that my voice is much spoilt by dwelling in these damp vaults; formerly it was very clear and rich; now too, alas, I remember only melancholy songs, and these are scarcely fitted for so gay a meeting as the present; but wait, wait an instant," cried she, and she raised her glorious eyes to the vaulted roof, and warbled a few enchanting notes: "I shall sing you a romance called Nina Matada, it will be new to me as well as to you, for I shall compose it as I proceed."
It would be impossible to give an idea of the song which Inez improvised for us, or to describe the emotion we all felt, she seemed as if she were absolutely inspired. Sergy wept, shouted, and laughed, he appeared mad with excitement; and as Inez grew more impassioned in her strain, even Boutraix awoke from his apathy, and fixed two large eyes upon her, which expressed astonishment and pleasure. A cry of enthusiasm burst from us all when Inez concluded her song.
"Alas!" cried she, "I cannot sing as I used. Oh! Sergy," continued she, looking tenderly at him, "one must be loved to be able to sing."
"Loved! " exclaimed Sergy, and he covered her hand with kisses; "you are adored, Inez; if you require merely the devotion of a heart, of a life, to inspire your genius, you have it; sing, sing, Inez, sing for ever!"
"I used to dance, too," said Inez, as she leaned confidingly on Sergy's shoulder; "but how is it possible to dance without instruments? how extraordinary, some good genius must surely have slipped these castanets into my band," and she unfastened them with a merry laugh.
"Oh! irrevocable day of damnation," said Boutraix, "at length you have arrived, the last judgment is at hand,—she is actually going to dance."
While Boutraix was thus muttering to himself Inez had risen from her seat, and had commenced a few steps to a slow measure, in which she displayed as much grace as dignity: by degrees she passed from the grave and majestic movements with which she had at first enchanted us, to one exceedingly rapid, and full of animation and voluptuous ease and gaiety,—sometimes we lost sight of her, indeed, scarcely heard her, when she approached the other end of the hall, then suddenly she bounded towards us, and passed so close to us, that she almost touched us with her dress, and thus she appeared and disappeared again and again. At length she came up to us with a most winning expression of countenance, with her head gracefully bent, and her beautiful arms stretched towards us, as if she was imploring us to follow her, or to detain her.
Sergy could not resist her look of entreaty.
"Oh! stay, stay," cried he, "or I die."
"I must go," replied she, "and I shall die if thou dost not follow me; soul of Inez, wilt thou not come?" she sank upon her chair, and threw her arms round Sergy,—she seemed to have forgotten us. "Listen, Sergy," continued Inez, "when you quit this apartment, you will see on your right a long narrow gallery, you will have some distance to go after you have entered it; you must be sure to step carefully over the broken flags; you must pursue your way without turning to the right or left, it is impossible that you can lose yourself; when you reach the end of the corridor, you will see a staircase which will take you from story to story, till you reach the subterranean vaults; you must then go straightforward again for some time, till you come to a winding staircase, and then I shall be your guide, for you will find me at the top of it. You must not be annoyed with my owls, for they have long been my sole companions, they know my voice when I call. But, come, come, do not delay; will you come?"
"Will I come!" cried Sergy; "Oh! rather would I meet with eternal death than not follow you wherever you went."
"Who loves me, follows me," replied Inez, with a wild ringing laugh; she picked up her winding-sheet, and moved towards the farther end of the hall, which was so obscure, that she was soon hidden from our view, and we saw her no more.
Boutraix and I held Sergy forcibly back. "Monsieur," said I, "as your elder, as your friend, and as your captain, I forbid you to move a step; remember that by want of care you may not only sacrifice your own life, but ours. Does it not occur to you that this fascinating woman is, perhaps, the instrument employed by a band of robbers, who live concealed in these old ruins, for the purpose of separating us, that they may more easily overcome us? I can understand your unfortunate prepossession and pity you; but you are responsible for our lives, and must not indulge in it."
Sergy seemed much agitated by many and diverse feelings, but at length he yielded to our powerful entreaties and arguments, and sank dejectedly on his chair.
"Gentlemen," said I, after a few minutes had elapsed, and we were a little more composed; "there is a mystery in what we have just seen, which no human intelligence can fathom, though there is no doubt but that some natural circumstance would solve it at once. As we are, however, not likely to become acquainted with the cause of what we have seen, we must be careful not to relate to any one what has happened to-night, in order that we may not encourage those idle superstitious tales, which are unworthy the belief of Christians and philosophers. Besides we must not compromise the honour of three French officers, by narrating an occurrence, which, though very extraordinary I allow, may probably be explained some day, and expose us to public derision. I swear, therefore, on my honour, and I expect you to join me in the same solemn oath, never during my whole life to speak of what we have witnessed to-night."
"We swear," cried Sergy and Boutraix.
"I swear by the blessed Jesus, whose nativity we commemorate to-night," said Bascara.
"Amen," replied Boutraix, solemnly, while he embraced Bascara with fervour and sincerity.
The night was now far advanced, and at last, being overcome with fatigue, we fell into an unquiet sleep. I think I need scarcely tell you by what dreams it was disturbed. A glorious day shone upon us the following morning when we awoke, and we reached Barcelona without exchanging a word. Two days after we were in Gironne, where our regiment awaited an order of departure. The reverses of the grand army obliged the Emperor to assemble his choice troops in the north. Thither Boutraix, Sergy, and I proceeded together. Boutraix had become quite serious since he had spoken to a soul which had escaped from Purgatory; and Sergy, after he had fallen in love with a phantom, did not seek for a new mistress. In the heat of the battle of Lutzen he was by my side, suddenly I felt him give way, his head drooped on the neck of my horse, and I discovered that he had received a mortal wound.
"Inez," murmured he, "I go to meet, you," and he breathed his last sigh.
A few months after the army entered France, the peace was signed, and a great many officers laid down their arms. Boutraix entered a monastery, where, I believe, he still is; and I retired to the little estate which I inherited from my father, and resolved to spend the rest of my days on it; and this is the conclusion of my story.
"Well, but," asked one of my friends, "if it was not a real apparition, what was it really?"
Though all that I have related appears very extraordinary, nay, impossible, yet it is accounted for by a most natural chain of circumstances. I have just mentioned that after the peace was signed, I retired to my father's estate: well, I resolved, before I finally settled down there, to travel for a short time. I hesitated for a little while what place I should visit first. A thousand happy recollections made me yearn to see Barcelona once more, but even if I had remained any longer in doubt, a kind letter and invitation which I received from a dear friend there, would certainly have determined me to adopt this course. The very evening of the day on which I arrived at Barcelona, my friend, Pablo de Clauza, insisted on my going with him to the theatre, where a celebrated actress, called La Pedrina, was to make her first appearance.
"This virtuosa is so capricious," remarked he, "that perhaps she may take it into her head to leave to-morrow."
I forgot, when I agreed to accompany my friend, that I had made a resolution on the night Inez de las Sierras visited us in the Château Ghismondi, never to listen to another female singer or dancer after her; however, the arrangement could not now be altered. When I entered the theatre, I fell into a kind of reverie, from which I was not even roused by the entrance of La Pedrina, and, as I had shaded my eyes with my hand, I only became more buried in thought, when the burst of enthusiasm which greeted her, had subsided. At length I removed my hand from my eyes, and gazed around me, and the next moment a shriek of astonishment escaped me, and I darted to the front of the box, while I stared wildly on the stage. Yes! it was Inez, actually Inez de las Sierras, whom I saw before me.
"Are you sure," said I to my friend, when I felt a little more composed, "that this is La Pedrina? do you know that she is an actress? are you quite certain that she is not an apparition?"
"I have not the slightest doubt," replied my friend, "that she is an actress, and a very extraordinary one, too; no singer has ever yet been compared to her; and the enthusiasm which you manifest for her has been shared by most persons."
The emotion which I discovered at intervals during the rest of the evening was attributed by my companion to my due appreciation of La Pedrina's merits. When we reached home, and sat down to supper, we could talk of nothing else but the gifted actress.
"The interest with which this extraordinary woman inspires you," said Pablo de Clauza, addressing himself to me, "can hardly be increased by the knowledge of her adventures. La Pedrina does not belong to that class from which actresses generally spring, she is connected with one of the noblest families in Spain, and her real name is Inez de las Sierras. In consequence of some popular tradition, which was not altogether without foundation, the family of De las Sierras was obliged to leave the country; and to take advantage of the new discoveries made by navigators, and to settle with all its wealth in Mexico. The unhappy fatality which had hitherto pursued the house of De las Sierras, did not cease to influence its career even when removed to other lands. At the commencement of the present century, the last of the noble Seigneurs of De las Sierras still lived in Mexico; his wife was dead, but she had left him one little girl, called Inez, who was about six or seven years old. She was most happily endowed by nature, and the Marquis spared no expense in the culture of her mind. It would have been a very fortunate thing for him, if the education of his only child had been sufficient to absorb all his care and affection; but, alas! he soon felt an aching void in his heart, which he sought to fill; he loved, and believed himself loved in return; he was proud of his choice, and rejoiced to think that his dear Inez would have another mother and such a mother. Inez soon perceived to her misery, that, instead of having made a new friend, she had found a bitter enemy. She now looked upon her accomplishments, which had hitherto been cultivated merely as a source of amusement, as perhaps the only means of her future subsistence. She resolved henceforth to devote much more time to them, and at length her industry and perseverance were crowned with such complete success, that she could no longer meet with masters to teach her. One day the dead body of the Marquis was brought home, he was pierced by many wounds, but there were no circumstances connected with the assassination which could throw any light on the subject. Inez's father had a rival before his second marriage, and public opinion unhesitatingly fixed the crime upon him; and when he soon after married the widow of the Marquis de las Sierras, it became a general conviction that he was the murderer. The poor Inez was now alone in the house of her fathers, for she lived with two people with whom it was impossible for her to sympathise. About this time she became acquainted with a young Sicilian, who called himself Gaëtano Filippi, and whose previous life seemed somewhat involved in mystery. His conversation was agreeable, though rather frivolous; he had some slight knowledge of the arts, and was superficially informed on many points; but to the ingenuous and unsuspecting Inez he was all that was manly, generous, and fascinating, and she gave her whole heart to him, never doubting that he loved her devotedly, as he declared. When he went to her stepmother to ask for Inez's hand, she peremptorily declined his proposals, and her husband behaved precisely in the same manner; they were not very scrupulous, and perhaps they began to imagine that they might make their fortune by Inez's talents. The husband had, however, another reason for objecting to her marriage with Gaëtano, for he loved her himself, and only a few weeks before, had the wickedness to declare his guilty passion to her. This circumstance, and her affection for the Sicilian, made her offer little resistance to Gaëtano's plan of carrying her off, and he had no difficulty in convincing her that all her father's possessions belonged of right to her; accordingly, at the end of a few months the lovers sailed from Mexico for Cadiz, loaded with gold, jewels, and diamonds,
"The apparently devoted attentions of Gaëtano, for some time after they were settled in Spain, prevented her from noticing how objectionable the society frequently was, to which her husband introduced her, but when he became less affectionate to her, and she began to feel that she had not acted rightly in appropriating so much of her father's fortune, then it was that she observed that among all her husband's acquaintance there was not one with whom she could the least sympathise. By degrees he grew colder and colder in his manner, and one morning, when she arose and went in search of him as usual, but could find him nowhere, her anxiety became extreme; the next day, the next night, and many days passed, and still no tidings of Gaëtano, and at length when she discovered that the few jewels which she had left were missing, the frightful certainty that her husband had quitted her for ever, at once took possession of her mind. Her only resource was now in her talents; she resolved to become an actress, and to take the name of La Pedrina, in order that her unworthy relations might not recognize her, and avail themselves of her exertions. She appeared first at Madrid, where her success was immense, and her beauty and talents drew thousands of adorers to her feet. Unluckily, the fame of La Pedrina soon reached Gaëtano's ears, and he left his hiding-place, and surprised his wife one day by a visit while she was at Barcelona. He knew too well the influence which he had over Inez, and he determined to exercise it to the full extent, for he was sure that her gains must be considerable, and was anxious to make himself master of them. How Gaëtano managed to justify himself to his wife I cannot imagine, but nothing is impossible to an artful mind, and Inez still loved her husband dearly, so that she longed for any excuse to be reconciled to him. He told her that he had just returned from Sicily, where he had been in order to prepare his friends to receive her as his wife; he said that his mother had actually accompanied him to Spain in order that she might the sooner embrace her daughter-in-law. Judge, then, of his distress when he arrived at Barcelona to learn that she was celebrated as an actress! was this the reward of so many sacrifices—of so much love! The poor Inez threw herself into his arms and breathed only words of joy, gratitude, and remorse. But when they were going to leave Barcelona, Inez's suspicions were slightly awakened by the anxiety which Gaëtano displayed to secure all her money and treasures, and to stow them in the carriage—she began to think he was much more occupied with her wealth than with herself.
Four days after a travelling-carriage was seen before the door of the Hotel d'Italie, an elegant-looking lady and gentleman were observed to alight by the passers-by, the former was La Pedrina, the latter was Gaëtano. A quarter of an hour after the young man left the hotel, and directed his steps towards the port. The non-appearance of Gaëtano's mother confirmed the fears which Inez unfortunately had soon begun to entertain, and on his return from the port, she overcame her natural timidity sufficiently to explain all her apprehensions, and the consequence was that a most violent altercation ensued between them, which was resumed several times during the night. At sunrise the next morning Gaëtano was observed to look pale, disordered, and agitated, when he left his room; he gave numerous directions to the servants about some chests, which he wished to have placed on board a vessel, and accompanied them himself, while he carried in one hand a small and exceedingly strong-looking box; he paid the servants very handsomely for their services, said he need not detain them, and begged them not to disturb the lady till his return. The chief part of the day wore away, and the gentleman did not make his appearance; this so astonished the people of the hotel, that they went down to the port to look for the vessel in which they had left him, but they found that it had just set sail, and, in spite of themselves, they experienced a gloomy kind of presentiment. The unbroken silence which pervaded Inez's apartment rendered them doubly uneasy, and when they perceived that the door of the chamber was not fastened inside, and that the key was removed from the lock, they did not hesitate to force it open. A horrible spectacle met their eyes, the unknown lady was stretched upon her bed, and appeared as if she were asleep if she had not been bathed in blood. She had been stabbed in her bosom during her sleep, and the dagger still remained in the wound. When the medical men arrived they soon discovered that the unknown lady was not dead, though in the most dangerous state, and for many days it seemed impossible that she could survive. At the end of a month, though she was convalescent, the fits of delirium had not entirely left her, and in a short time it became certain that the poor creature had recovered her physical strength, but not the use of her senses—she was quite mad.
Some sisters of charity undertook the charge of her, and bestowed every kindness and attention upon her. Her malady was not of a violent and morose nature, but manifested itself in fits of tender melancholy, and she was so sweet and gentle in her manners that she was an object of general pity and love. She often had lucid intervals, and by degrees they occurred oftener, and lasted longer, so that great hopes were entertained of the ultimate recovery of her reason. As she was perfectly quiet, she was allowed to wander for hours where she liked, unattended and unwatched, so that at length she took advantage of this freedom to run away; and this happened two days before Christmas-day. Her kind friends immediately endeavoured to trace her. At first they had no difficulty in following her route, because she was in the habit of dressing herself up in some faded and theatrical garments, of which Gaëtano had not thought it worth while to rob her; but at Mattaro they lost all clue of her, and they at length concluded that she had destroyed herself. The wonder which her disappearance created in the minds of everybody ceased at the end of two or three days, and in a few days more the affair was no longer mentioned.
"I dare say," said Pablo, after a pause, "that you have heard of the strange tradition connected with the Château Ghismondo. Well, up to the year 1812, the present generation had not witnessed anything to verify it; but on the Christmas-eve of that very year, there was no doubt that there were some extraordinary persons feasting, upon the occasion, in the château. The apartments which had been so long gloomy and desolate, were observed to be brilliantly illuminated, and some passers-by distinctly heard sounds of revelry, and a beautiful female voice pouring forth the most enchanting melody. The government, who were little disposed to share in the popular credulity, ordered a strict search of the old castle to be made; not that they believed it was inhabited by demons, but they imagined it might be a rendezvous of conspirators. The result of the visit of the officers of justice was, that it confirmed the reports respecting the mysterious guests, for remnants of the feast were found, and a great many empty bottles of wine. (At this portion of my friend's narrative, I could scarcely restrain a smile, for I remembered Boutraix's unquenchable thirst and immoderate libations.) But what was still more extraordinary, an officer actually found a poor mad girl in one of the subterranean vaults, and who, far from endeavouring to avoid him, flew towards him, and exclaimed—'Is it indeed you? Oh, how long I have waited for you;' when she was brought out into the light of day, however, and discovered her error, she burst into tears. You must already have guessed that the young girl whom I have just mentioned was 'La Pedrina.' She was immediately sent back to Barcelona, and placed under the care of a physician, who was particularly skilful in the kind of malady under which she laboured. He was rewarded for his care and attention to her, by seeing her perfectly restored to her right mind. In the course of time she appeared on the stage again, with what success you know, for you witnessed the bursts of rapturous enthusiasm with which she was greeted last night. Though, when she recovered, she was closely questioned about that memorable Christmas-eve, she never could distinctly remember anything relating to it, but she did not seem surprised that she had been found in the Château de Ghismondo, as, during her lucid intervals, she had often wandered in its neighbourhood, and gazed with interest on the dwelling-place of her forefathers."
The emotion which I displayed at the conclusion of Pablo di Clauza's story, astonished him exceedingly, and rendered him not a little curious. In consequence, I was induced to relate to him all the curious circumstances connected with that extraordinary Christmas-eve of 1812. With these you are already acquainted, and Pablo di Clauza's account of the actress will, I think, sufficiently prove to you that the ghost by whom we were visited in the Château was of a very harmless description, though I am sure you must find ample excuse for three young officers being somewhat startled by so unexpected a guest. My friends thanked me heartily for my story, and our little party broke up for the night.