The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (71 page)

‘I don't think that we will ever hear the end of the Wandering Jew's story. That wretch disappears whenever he reaches the time when he was condemned for ever to wander for having insulted the prophet. And no power in the world can then call him back. His last words do not surprise me. For some time I have noticed that he has aged a great deal, but this will probably not lead to his death, for what would then become of your legend?'

As I realized that the cabbalist intended to speak about topics not suitable for the ears of a good Catholic, I broke off the conversation, left the company and returned alone to my tent. Soon others came too, but apparently they didn't go to bed at once, for I could hear for a long time Velásquez's voice explaining to Rebecca some geometric formula.

Toledo's plan didn't surprise me at all. I had long been aware of his nobility of spirit and his devotion to others.

As soon as we reached Madrid the knight at once visited Soarez. I followed him. Soarez was running a high fever; his eyes were wide open but unseeing. But from time to time his lips did form a haggard smile. No doubt he was dreaming about his beloved Inés. Close beside him was Busqueros, in an armchair, who did not even turn round when we came in. Toledo went up to the man who had caused the misfortunes of poor Soarez and shook him by the shoulder.
Don Roque woke up, rubbed his eyes and exclaimed, ‘What's this? Señor Don José! Yesterday I had the honour of meeting His Excellency the Duke of Lerma in the Prado, who looked closely at me. Perhaps he wishes to make my acquaintance. If His Excellency were to have need of my services please explain to your brother, Señor, that I am always at his disposal.'

Toledo interrupted the interminable flow of Busqueros's words and said to him, ‘It's not a matter of that at the moment. On the contrary, what I want to know is how the patient is and whether he needs anything.'

‘The patient is not doing well,' replied Don Roque. ‘He needs care, consolation and the hand of fair Inés.'

Toledo interrupted him. ‘On the first point, I shall go immediately to see my brother's doctor. He is the most skilful surgeon in Madrid.'

‘On the second,' Busqueros added, ‘you can scarcely help him. For you cannot bring his father back to life again; and as for the third, I can assure you that I am sparing no effort to bring this plan about.'

‘Is it possible?' I exclaimed. ‘Is the father of Don Lope dead?'

‘Yes,' said Busqueros. ‘The very grandson of the Iñigo Soarez who, having sailed the seven seas in his youth, established a trading house in Cadiz. Our patient was already getting better and would soon have been cured if the news of his father's death hadn't laid him low again. Since you are interested in the fate of my friend, Señor,' Busqueros continued, ‘allow me to accompany you to the doctor and at the same time offer you my services.'

After he had spoken they both left, and I remained alone with the patient. For a long time I gazed at his ashen face, on which suffering had etched such deep lines in so short a time, and I cursed the meddler who had caused his misfortunes. The patient had fallen asleep again and I was breathing quietly so as not to disturb his rest when there was a knock at the door.

I got up angrily, tiptoed to the door and opened it. I saw before me a woman no longer in the first flush of youth but of pleasant appearance. Seeing that I had a finger on my lips to indicate that she should remain silent, she drew me out on to the landing.

‘My young friend,' she said, ‘can you tell me how Señor Soarez is today?'

‘Not well, I think,' I said in reply. ‘But he has just fallen asleep and I hope that this will restore some strength to him.'

‘I was told that he was very ill,' the unknown lady said. ‘A person who has a sincere interest in his welfare asked me to find out how he was. Please be so kind as to give him this letter when he wakes up. I shall come back tomorrow to see if he is better.'

Having uttered these words, she went away. I put the letter in my pocket and went back to the invalid.

Shortly after, Toledo came back with the doctor. The goodly disciple of Aesculapius reminded me by his manner of Dr Sangre Moreno. He looked at the patient, shook his head and then said that he was unable to pronounce on him, but he would spend the night by his bedside and would give his definitive diagnosis the next day. Toledo embraced him in a friendly way and begged him to spare no effort. Then we left, swearing to return at daybreak. As we went along I told the knight about the visit of the stranger. He took the letter and said, ‘I am sure that it is from fair Inés. If Soarez feels better you may give him the letter tomorrow. If I could, I really would give half my life to secure the happiness of a man to whom I have done so much harm. But it's getting late. After our journey we too need rest. Come, you will sleep in my house.'

I joyfully accepted the invitation of this man for whom I felt growing esteem. Having eaten, I fell asleep.

Next morning we went to see Soarez. The doctor's expression showed that his art had conquered the illness. The patient was still weak but he recognized me and greeted me warmly.

Toledo told him how he had caused his fall. He assured him that he would do all in his power to make up for the suffering he had endured and asked Soarez to look on him as a friend. Soarez generously accepted and extended his still weak hand to the knight. Then Toledo went with the doctor into the adjoining room. I seized the opportunity to give the letter to the patient. The words it contained were certainly a powerful remedy, for Lope Soarez sat up in bed, and tears streamed down his cheeks. He pressed the letter to his heart and cried out through his sobs, ‘Almighty God, so you have not abandoned me and I am not alone in all the world. Inés, my dear Inés, has
not forgotten me and she loves me. That dear Señora de Avalos came in person for news of the state of my health.'

‘Quite right, Señor Lope,' I replied. ‘But for the love of God, calm down. A sudden shock could hurt you.'

Toledo had overheard these last words. He came in with the doctor, who prescribed rest and cool drinks above all else. Then he left, promising to return.

After a moment the door opened and Busqueros came in. ‘Bravo!' he exclaimed. ‘As I can see, our patient is much improved. So much the better, for soon we shall have to exercise all our ingenuity. There is a rumour in town that the banker's daughter will soon marry the Duke of Santa Maura. Let them talk! We shall see who's right! I have just met a member of the duke's household at the Golden Hart Inn and I let it be understood that their journey has been in vain.'

Toledo interrupted at this point and said, ‘Whatever is the case, I believe that Señor Don Lope need not despair. None the less, my good friend, I hope that you will not intervene in this affair.'

The knight uttered these words in such a firm tone that Don Roque did not dare to contradict him. None the less I noted with what glee he saw Toledo leave the patient a moment later.

‘It's not fine words that will get us any further,' said Don Roque when we were alone. ‘We must act, and the sooner the better.'

After the meddler had said this, I heard a knock at the door. Supposing it to be Señora de Avalos, I whispered in Soarez's ear that Busqueros must be made to leave by the back door. But he said indignantly, ‘I say again we must act now. So if you are receiving a visitor who is connected with our affair, I must be present or at least hear the whole conversation from the adjoining room.'

Soarez looked imploringly at him. Realizing that his presence was unwelcome, he went into the neighbouring room and stood behind the door. Señora de Avalos did not stay long. She was delighted to see the patient better and assured him that Inés hadn't stopped loving him and thinking about him. Her present visit had been at Inés's request. She had found out about his new misfortunes, was very worried and had decided to come that evening with her aunt to exhort him with words of consolation and hope to endure his fate.

As soon as Señora de Avalos had gone, Busqueros rushed into the
room and cried, ‘What's all this? The fair Inés wants to visit us this evening? Now that's what I call a real proof of love. The poor girl doesn't even consider whether or not this unthinking act may have ruined her reputation, but we will do the considering on her behalf, Señor Don Lope. I shall immediately go to fetch my friends. I shall post them in front of this house and order them to let no stranger in. Don't worry. I shall take full charge of things.'

Soarez tried to reply, but Don Roque had already run out as though the ground was burning the soles of his feet. Realizing that a new catastrophe was brewing, and that Busqueros was about to commit another folly, I hurried off to see Toledo to tell him what had happened, without saying anything to the invalid. The knight frowned. After some reflection he told me to go back to Soarez's bedside and tell him that he would do all he could to put a stop to the meddler's lunacy. Towards evening we heard a carriage go by in the street. Soon after, Inés came in with her aunt. Not wishing to meddle myself, I slipped out. Suddenly I heard noises in the street. I went down and found Toledo in a heated exchange with a stranger.

‘Señor,' the stranger was saying, ‘I declare to you that I shall succeed in going in here. My fiancée has a rendezvous with a Cadiz merchant in this house. I am certain of it. A friend of this ne'er-do-well, in the presence of my major-domo, enlisted several wretches in the Golden Hart Inn, whom he instructed to ensure that these turtle doves are not disturbed.'

‘Excuse me, Señor,' replied Toledo. ‘I shall not allow you to enter this house under any pretext. I do not deny that a young lady has just gone in but it is one of my relations and I shall not allow her to be insulted by anyone.'

‘That's a lie!' exclaimed the stranger. ‘This lady is called Inés Moro and is my fiancée.'

‘Señor, you have called me a liar,' said Toledo. ‘I am not concerned whether you are right or not. In either case you have insulted me, and before you can leave this very spot you will give me satisfaction. I am the Knight of Toledo, brother of the Duke of Lerma.'

The stranger raised his hat and said, ‘Señor, the Duke of Santa Maura is at your service.'

Whereupon he threw off his cloak and drew his sword. The lantern
above the door cast a dim light over the adversaries. I flattened myself against the wall and waited for this disastrous adventure to end. Suddenly the duke let his sword fall, clasped his chest and fell. By pure chance the Duke of Lerma's doctor came by at that moment to visit Soarez. Toledo pointed to Santa Maura and asked him anxiously whether the wound was fatal.

‘Not at all,' said the doctor. ‘Have him carried to his house and dress his wound quickly. He will be cured in about a fortnight. The sword has not even grazed his lung.'

As he said this, he administered smelling-salts to the wounded man and Santa Maura opened his eyes. The knight approached him and said, ‘Your Excellency, you are not mistaken. Fair Inés is here with a young man whom she loves more than life itself. After what has happened between us, I believe you to be too noble to want to force a young girl to enter a bond which her heart does not want.'

‘Señor caballero,' Santa Maura replied in a weak voice, ‘I do not doubt that what you say is true but I am surprised not to have heard from fair Inés herself that her heart is not free. Some words from her mouth or some lines from her hand…'

The duke tried to continue but lost consciousness again. He was carried off to his lodgings. Meanwhile Toledo hurried to Inés to let her know what her suitor required for him to renounce her hand and to leave her in peace.

What more need I say? The rest of the story isn't difficult to guess. Soarez, assured of his mistress's fidelity, recovered quickly. He had lost his father, but on the other hand had gained a wife and a friend. For the father of Inés, who had never shared the hate which had set the late Gaspar Soarez so passionately against him, generously gave them his blessing.
¹
The young couple married and immediately left for Cadiz. Busqueros accompanied them out of Madrid for several miles and managed to extort a purse of gold from the young couple for services he claimed to have rendered. As for me, I thought that fate would never cause me to meet again that insufferable man who
inspired me with unspeakable loathing. But things turned out otherwise.

I had noticed that Don Roque had mentioned my father's name from time to time. I foresaw that his acquaintance would scarcely be profitable to our family and started spying on Busqueros. I soon discovered that he had a female relative called Gita Cimiento, whom he was trying hard to get my father to marry. For he knew that Señor Avadoro had money, perhaps even more than was generally thought. The lady in question was already living in a nearby house on the other side of the side-street, exactly opposite my father's balcony.

My aunt had come back to Madrid to live. I could not resist going to greet her. The good Señora Dalanosa was moved to tears to see me but she urged me not to show myself in public before the end of my penance. I spoke to her about Busqueros's plans. She thought it imperative to stop the marriage. She spoke about it to her uncle, the worthy Theatine Fray Gerónimo Sántez. But the monk absolutely refused to have anything to do with an affair which looked too much like a society intrigue. He said that he only ever involved himself in family affairs to bring about a reconciliation or prevent a scandal, and that in all other cases this kind of business did not fall within his ministry. Thrown back on our own resources, I would have liked to have won the friendly Knight of Toledo over to my side, but I would have had to tell him who I was and I was not allowed to do that. So I started carefully spying on Busqueros who, since Soarez's departure, had attached himself to the Knight of Toledo, though admittedly in a less interfering way. But he still appeared every morning to ask whether the knight had need of his services.