westward ho-第63章

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e　whole　time　for　going。

〃Fool　that　I　am！　that　girl　has　bewitched　me；　I　believe。　　Go　I　must；　and　eat　my　share　of　dirt；　for　her　sake。〃

So　he　went；　and；　cunningly　enough；　hinted　to　old　Salterne　that　he　had　taken　such　a　fancy　to　him；　and　felt　so　bound　by　his　courtesy　and　hospitality；　that　he　might　not　object　to　tell　him　things　which　he　would　not　mention　to　every　one；　for　that　the　Spaniards　were　not　jealous　of　single　traders；　but　of　any　general　attempt　to　deprive　them　of　their　hard…earned　wealth：　that；　however；　in　the　meanwhile；　there　were　plenty　of　opportunities　for　one　man　here　and　there　to　enrich　himself；　etc。

Old　Salterne；　shrewd　as　he　was；　had　his　weak　point；　and　the　Spaniard　had　touched　it；　and　delighted　at　this　opportunity　of　learning　the　mysteries　of　the　Spanish　monopoly；　he　often　actually　set　Rose　on　to　draw　out　the　Don；　without　a　fear　（so　blind　does　money　make　men）　lest　she　might　be　herself　drawn　in。　　For；　first；　he　held　it　as　impossible　that　she　would　think　of　marrying　a　Popish　Spaniard　as　of　marrying　the　man　in　the　moon；　and；　next；　as　impossible　that　he　would　think　of　marrying　a　burgher's　daughter　as　of　marrying　a　negress；　and　trusted　that　the　religion　of　the　one；　and　the　family　pride　of　the　other；　would　keep　them　as　separate　as　beings　of　two　different　species。　　And　as　for　love　without　marriage；　if　such　a　possibility　ever　crossed　him；　the　thought　was　rendered　absurd；　on　Rose's　part　by　her　virtue；　on　which　the　old　roan　（and　rightly）　would　have　staked　every　farthing　he　had　on　earth；　and　on　the　Don's　part；　by　a　certain　human　fondness　for　the　continuity　of　the　carotid　artery　and　the　parts　adjoining；　for　which　（and　that　not　altogether　justly；　seeing　that　Don　Guzman　cared　as　little　for　his　own　life　as　he　did　for　his　neighbor's）　Mr。　Salterne　gave　him　credit。　　And　so　it　came　to　pass；　that　for　weeks　and　months　the　merchant's　house　was　the　Don's　favorite　haunt；　and　he　saw　the　Rose　of　Torridge　daily；　and　the　Rose　of　Torridge　heard　him。

And　as　for　her；　poor　child；　she　had　never　seen　such　a　man。　　He　had；　or　seemed　to　have；　all　the　high…bred　grace　of　Frank；　and　yet　he　was　cast　in　a　manlier　mould；　he　had　just　enough　of　his　nation's　proud　self…assertion　to　make　a　woman　bow　before　him　as　before　a　superior；　and　yet　tact　enough　to　let　it　very　seldom　degenerate　into　that　boastfulness　of　which　the　Spaniards　were　then　so　often　and　so　justly　accused。　　He　had　marvels　to　tell　by　flood　and　field　as　many　and　more　than　Amyas；　and　he　told　them　with　a　grace　and　an　eloquence　of　which　modest；　simple；　old　Amyas　possessed　nothing。　　Besides；　he　was　on　the　spot；　and　the　Leighs　were　not；　nor　indeed　were　any　of　her　old　lovers；　and　what　could　she　do　but　amuse　herself　with　the　only　person　who　came　to　hand？

So　thought；　in　time；　more　ladies　than　she；　for　the　country；　the　north　of　it　at　least；　was　all　but　bare　just　then　of　young　gallants；　what　with　the　Netherland　wars　and　the　Irish　wars；　and　the　Spaniard　became　soon　welcome　at　every　house　for　many　a　mile　round；　and　made　use　of　his　welcome　so　freely；　and　received　so　much　unwonted　attention　from　fair　young　dames；　that　his　head　might　have　been　a　little　turned；　and　Rose　Salterne　have　thereby　escaped；　had　not　Sir　Richard　delicately　given　him　to　understand　that　in　spite　of　the　free　and　easy　manners　of　English　ladies；　brothers　were　just　as　jealous；　and　ladies'　honors　at　least　as　inexpugnable；　as　in　the　land　of　demureness　and　duennas。　　Don　Guzman　took　the　hint　well　enough；　and　kept　on　good　terms　with　the　country　gentlemen　as　with　their　daughters；　and　to　tell　the　truth；　the　cunning　soldier　of　fortune　found　his　account　in　being　intimate　with　all　the　ladies　he　could；　in　order　to　prevent　old　Salterne　from　fancying　that　he　had　any　peculiar　predilection　for　Mistress　Rose。

Nevertheless；　Mr。　Salterne's　parlor　being　nearest　to　him；　still　remained　his　most　common　haunt；　where；　while　he　discoursed　for　hours　about


　　　　　〃Antres　vast　and　deserts　idle；　　　　　　　And　of　the　cannibals　that　each　other　eat；　　　　　　　Of　Anthropophagi；　and　men　whose　heads　　　　　　　Do　grow　beneath　their　shoulders；〃


to　the　boundless　satisfaction　of　poor　Rose's　fancy；　he　took　care　to　season　his　discourse　with　scraps　of　mercantile　information；　which　kept　the　old　merchant　always　expectant　and　hankering　for　more；　and　made　it　worth　his　while　to　ask　the　Spaniard　in　again　and　again。

And　his　stories；　certainly；　were　worth　hearing。　　He　seemed　to　have　been　everywhere；　and　to　have　seen　everything：　born　in　Peru；　and　sent　home　to　Spain　at　ten　years　old；　brought　up　in　Italy；　a　soldier　in　the　Levant；　an　adventurer　to　the　East　Indies；　again　in　America；　first　in　the　islands；　and　then　in　Mexico。　　Then　back　again　to　Spain；　and　thence　to　Rome；　and　thence　to　Ireland。　　Shipwrecked；　captive　among　savages；　looking　down　the　craters　of　volcanoes；　hanging　about　all　the　courts　of　Europe；　fighting　Turks；　Indians；　lions；　elephants；　alligators；　and　what　not？　　At　five…and…thirty　he　had　seen　enough　for　three　lives；　and　knew　how　to　make　the　best　of　what　he　had　seen。

He　had　shared；　as　a　lad；　in　the　horrors　of　the　memorable　siege　of　Famagusta；　and　had　escaped；　he　hardly　knew　himself　how；　from　the　hands　of　the　victorious　Turks；　and　from　the　certainty　（if　he　escaped　being　flayed　alive　or　impaled；　as　most　of　the　captive　officers　were）　of　ending　his　life　as　a　Janissary　at　the　Sultan's　court。　　He　had　been　at　the　Battle　of　the　Three　Kings；　had　seen　Stukely　borne　down　by　a　hundred　lances；　unconquered　even　in　death；　and　had　held　upon　his　knee　the　head　of　the　dying　King　of　Portugal。

And　now；　as　he　said　to　Rose　one　evening；　what　had　he　left　on　earth；　but　a　heart　trampled　as　hard　as　the　pavement？　　Whom　had　he　to　love？　Who　loved　him？　　He　had　nothing　for　which　to　live　but　fame：　and　even　that　was　denied　to　him；　a　prisoner　in　a　foreign　land。

Had　he　no　kindred；　then？　asked　pitying　Rose。

〃My　two　sisters　are　in　a　convent；they　had　neither　money　nor　beauty；　so　they　are　dead　to　me。　　My　brother　is　a　Jesuit；　so　he　is　dead　to　me。　　My　father　fell　by　the　hands　of　Indians　in　Mexico；　my　mother；　a　penniless　widow；　is　companion；　duennawhatsoever　they　may　choose　to　call　itcarrying　fans　and　lapdogs　for　some　princess　or　other　there　in　Seville；　of　no　better　blood　than　herself；　and　I　devil！　　I　have　lost　even　my　swordand　so　fares　the　house　of　De　Soto。〃

Don　Guzman；　of　course；　intended　to　be　pitied；　and　pitied　he　was　accordingly。　　And　then　he　would　turn　the　conversation；　and　begin　telling　Italian　stories；　after　the　Italian　fashion；　according　to　his　auditory：　the　pathetic　ones　when　Rose　was　present；　the　racy　ones　when　she　was　absent；　so　that　Rose　had　wept　over　the　sorrows　of　Juliet　and　Desdemona；　and　over　many　another　moving　tale；　long　before　they　were　ever　enacted　on　an　English　stage；　and　the　ribs　of　the　Bideford　worthies　had　shaken　to　many　a　jest　which　Cinthio　and　Bandello's　ghosts　must　come　and　make　for　themselves　over　again　if　they　wish　them　to　be　remembered；　for　I　shall　lend　them　no　shove　toward　immortality。

And　so　on；　and　so　on。　　What　need　of　more　words？　　Before　a　year　was　out；　Rose　Salterne　was　far　more　in　love　with　Don　Guzman　than　he　with　her；　and　both　suspected　each　other's　mind；　though　neither　hinted　at　the　truth；　she　from　fear；　and　he；　to　tell　the　truth；　from　sheer　Spanish　pride　of　blood。　　For　he　soon　began　to　find　out　that　he　must　compromise　that　blood　by　marrying　the　heretic　burgher's　daughter；　or　all　his　labor　would　be　thrown　away。

He　had　seen　with　much　astonishment；　and　then　practised　with　much　pleasure；　that　graceful　old　English　fashion　of　saluting　every　lady　on　the　cheek　at　meeting；　which　（like　the　old　Dutch　fashion　of　asking　young　ladies　out　to　feasts　without　their　mothers）　used　to　give　such　cause　of　brutal　calumny　and　scandal　to　the　coarse　minds　of　Romish　visitors　from　the　Continent；　and　he　had　seen；　too；　fuming　with　jealous　rage；　more　than　one　Bideford　burgher；　redolent　of　onions；　profane　in　that　way　the　velvet　cheek　of　Rose　Salterne。

So；　one　day；　he　offered　his　salute　in　like　wise；　but　be　did　it　when　she　was　alone；　for　something　within　（perhaps　a　guilty　conscience）　whispered　that　it　might　be　hardly　politic　to　make　the　proffer　in　her　father's　presence：　however；　to　his　astonishment；　he　received　a　prompt　though　quiet　rebuff。

〃No；　sir；　you　should　know　that　my　cheek　is　not　for