Read The Manuscript Found in Saragossa Online
Authors: Jan Potocki
The Manuscript Found in Saragossa (26 page)
Rebecca ended her story at this point, and my first thought was that she had been making fun of me throughout, and that her only aim had been to take advantage of my credulity. I took my leave of her without ceremony and started to reflect on what she had told me. âEither this woman is in league with the Gomelez to test me and convert me to Islam,' I said to myself, âor else she has some other motive for extracting from me my cousins' secret. Or else they are demons. Or else if they are acting on the orders of the Gomelezâ¦' I was still going over these conjectures in my mind when I caught sight of Rebecca drawing circles in the air and performing other magical hocus-pocus. A moment later she came over to me and said, âI have let my brother know where I am, so he is sure to be here by this evening. While we wait, let's go and join the gypsies in their camp.'
She boldly leant on my arm, and we soon rejoined the old gypsy chief, who greeted the Jewess with many marks of respect. Throughout the whole day Rebecca behaved very naturally and seemed to have forgotten all about the occult sciences. Her brother arrived
before nightfall. They went off together and I went to bed. Once there, I thought again about Rebecca's story. I think it was the first time I had heard talk of the cabbala, of genii, and of celestial signs. In what I had heard, there was nothing concrete I could find to disagree with, and so I fell asleep in a state of perplexity.
I awoke quite early and went for a walk to while away the time before breakfast. Some way off, I caught sight of the cabbalist and his sister, who seemed to be having a somewhat heated exchange. I turned aside from my path, not wishing to interrupt them, but soon saw the cabbalist disappearing in the direction of the camp and Rebecca hurrying towards me. In a few paces I was by her side and we continued our walk with scarcely a word between us.
At last the fair Israelite broke the silence and said, âSeñor Alphonse, I am going to tell you a secret which will not leave you unmoved if you have any interest at all in my fate. I have just decided to give up studying the cabbala. I spent last night thinking hard about this. What is the vain immortality worth which my father wanted to confer on me? Are we not all immortal? Are we not all bound for the heavenly dwellings of the just? I want to live this short life to the full. I want to spend it with a husband, not in the company of two stars. I want children; I want to see the children of my children and then, tired and sated with living, I want to fall asleep in their arms and fly to the bosom of Abraham. What do you think of my plan?'
âI approve of it very much,' I replied to Rebecca, âbut what does your brother have to say about it?'
âHe was furious at first,' she admitted, âbut in the end he promised me that if he was forced to give up all hope of Solomon's daughters, he would do the same. He will wait until the sun has entered the sign of Virgo and then will make his decision. Meanwhile he wants to know who the vampires are who tricked him in the
venta
, whose names, according to him, are Emina and Zubeida. He has given up all thought of questioning you about them, because he claims that you don't know any more than he does. But this evening he plans to summon up the Wandering Jew, whom you saw at the hermit's house. He hopes to obtain some information from him.'
As Rebecca reached this point in what she was saying, we were met by others, to be told that breakfast was ready. It had been laid out in a spacious cave into which the tents had also been brought, because the sky was beginning to cloud over. In no time, we heard the storm break. Seeing that we were condemned to spend the rest of the day in the cave, I asked the old gypsy chief to continue with his story, which he did as follows:
   THE GYPSY CHIEF'S STORY CONTINUED   You remember, Señor Alphonse, the story of the Principessa di Monte Salerno, which was related by Romati. Well, I told you how great an impression she had made on me. Once we had lain down to sleep, the bedchamber was lit only by the dim light of a lamp. I did not dare to look into the darkest corners of the room, and was especially careful to avoid casting my eyes on a certain chest in which the innkeeper habitually kept his supplies of barley. I was afraid at any moment that I would see the princess's six skeletons emerging from it. I buried my head under the blankets to avoid seeing anything and soon fell asleep.
The tinkling of the mule bells woke me early next morning, and I was one of the first to get up. I forgot all about Romati and his princess, and thought only of the pleasure of continuing on our journey, which turned out indeed to be very agreeable; we were not too incommoded by the sun, which was to some degree veiled by clouds, and the muleteers decided to travel the whole day without a break, only stopping at the watering place known as Dos Leones, at the junction of the roads to Segovia and to Madrid. Here there is plenty of shade, and the two lions from which water gushes into the marble trough add considerably to the beauty of the place.
It was midday when we got there, and we had hardly arrived before we saw other travellers approaching on the Segovia road. Riding on the lead mule was a girl who looked about my age, although in fact she was a little older, and the
zagal
who was leading the mule was also young; he was a handsome seventeen-year-old lad who was well turned-out, even though only wearing what muleteers ordinarily wear. Behind him came a middle-aged lady, who could have been taken for my Aunt Dalanosa, not because she physically resembled
her, but because she had precisely the same manner, and in particular the same kindly expression that showed in every feature in just the same way. She was followed in turn by a number of servants.
As we had reached the spot first, we invited the newcomers to partake of the meal which was being laid out under the trees. They accepted, but in a very morose way; the girl seemed especially sad. From time to time she cast tender glances at the young muleteer, who was very assiduous in serving her. The middle-aged lady looked at them with compassion; there were tears in her eyes. I noticed their general air of sadness, and would have liked to have said something to console them, but not knowing how to go about it, I concentrated on my meal.
We set off again; my aunt rode alongside the other lady, and I caught up with the girl. I clearly saw the young
zagal
touch her hand or her foot as he pretended to adjust her saddle; once he even kissed her foot.
After two hours on the road we arrived at Olmedo, where it was intended we should spend the night. My aunt had chairs placed at the front door of the inn, where she sat down with the other lady. Shortly after she told me to order some chocolate. I went into the inn in pursuit of our servants, and found myself in a room where I could see the young man and the girl holding each other tight and weeping piteously. It was heart-rending to see; I threw my arms round the neck of the young man, and cried so much that I could scarcely breathe. While this was going on, the two ladies had come in, and my aunt, herself very moved, led me out of the room and asked me why I was crying. As I didn't know the cause of all this weeping, I was unable to tell her. Once she knew that I had been crying without knowing why, she could not help smiling. Meanwhile, the other lady had shut herself in the room with the girl, and we could hear them sobbing; they did not come out at supper time.
The meal was neither merry nor long.
When the dishes had been cleared away, my aunt turned to the older lady and said, âSeñora, heaven forbid that I should think ill of my neighbour, and especially not of you, for you seem to me to be a kind and Christian person. But, well, I have had the honour to eat with you, and it will certainly be an honour to do so whenever the
occasion presents itself; yet here's my nephew, who saw this young lady embracing this admittedly good-looking muleteer; there's nothing to reproach him for on that score. And of course I have no right⦠but, having had the honour to eat with you⦠and since the journey to Burgos is still before usâ¦'
At this point my aunt became so embarrassed that she would never have been able to finish her sentence, but the other lady broke in at just the right moment. âYou are quite right, Señora,' she said, âafter what you have seen, you are wholly justified in inquiring why I am so tolerant. I have a thousand reasons not to tell you, but I can see that it is my duty to do so.'
The good lady then drew out her handkerchief, wiped her eyes, and spoke as follows:
   MARIA DE TORRES'S STORY   I am the daughter of Don Emanuel de Noruña, the
oidor
of the court of Segovia. I was married at the age of eighteen years to Don Enrique de Torres, a colonel who had retired from active service. My mother had died many years before. We lost my father two months after our marriage, and took into our household my younger sister, Elvira de Noruña, who, although not yet fourteen years old, was already famed for her beauty. My father left practically nothing; as for my husband, he was quite well off, but we were obliged for family reasons to pay the pensions of five knights of Malta and the dowries of six nuns who were related to us, so that our income was only sufficient to provide us with the bare necessities. But a pension which my husband had been granted by the court made our lives somewhat easier.