in 1474, a year abounding in divine favours for all christendom, when king henry iv. reigned in castile, there came to live in the city of segovia, where he had inherited a dwelling-house and garden, a youthful knight of untainted lineage and comely appearance named don ruy de cardenas.
this house, which had been bequeathed to him by his uncle, an archdeacon and master of canon law, lay at the side and{2} in the silent shadow of the church of our lady of the pillar; and facing it, across the square, where the three spouts of an ancient fountain sang their song, stood the dark and grated palace of don alonso de lara, a nobleman of great wealth and surly manners, who, in a ripe and grey old age, had espoused a young lady famed throughout castile for her white skin, her hair the colour of the sun’s rays and her neck like that of a royal heron.
now don ruy, at his birth, had had our lady of the pillar for godmother, and ever remained her devout and loyal servitor, though, as he was a man of high spirit and gay, he loved arms, the chase, gallant regales, and even, now and then, a noisy night in a tavern with cards and tankards of wine. love, and his convenient nearness to the holy place,{3} had led him to adopt the pious practice since his arrival in segovia of visiting his divine godmother each morning at the hour of prime and begging in three ave maria’s her blessing and graces. again, as darkness came on, even after a hard run over field and mountain with harriers or falcon, he was wont to return and murmur sweetly a salve regina at the vesper salutation; while, every sunday, he bought of a moorish flower-woman in the square a spray of jonquils or pinks or simple roses, and spread them with tenderness and gallant care in front of our lady’s altar.
now to this venerated church of the pillar came also each sunday donna leonor, the famous and beautiful wife of the lord of lara, accompanied by a surly attendant with eyes harder and wider open{4} than those of an owl, and by two powerful lackeys, who guarded her on either side like towers. so jealous was don alonso, that he only permitted this fugitive visit because his confessor had strictly enjoined it on him, and for fear of offending our lady his neighbour, and he greedily noted their every step and their loitering from between the iron bars of a latticed window.
donna leonor spent the whole of the lingering days of the lingering week secluded in the grated mansion of black granite; and all she had for recreation and air, even in the summer heats, were the depths of a dark green garden surrounded by such lofty walls that nothing could be seen emerging from them save here and there the top of some melancholy cypress. but this short visit of hers to our lady of the pillar sufficed for don ruy to fall{5} madly in love with her on the may morning when he saw her kneeling before the altar in a radiance of sunlight, haloed by her golden hair, with her long lashes hanging over a book of hours, her rosary falling from between her delicate fingers, all elegant, gentle and white, with the whiteness of a lily blooming in the shade, looking yet whiter amid her black lace and the black satin gown that broke round her graceful form in hard folds over the chapel flags, the ancient flags of burying-places. when, after a moment of confusion and delicious wonder, he knelt, it was less to the virgin of the pillar, his divine godmother, than to that mortal apparition; her name and life he knew not, but only that he would give his life and name for her if she would yield herself for so uncertain a price.{6}
murmuring in a graceless prayer the three ave maria’s with which he saluted mary each morning, he picked up his sombrero, lightly descended the resounding nave, and stopped in the porch, waiting for her among the leprous beggars who were lousing themselves in the sun. but when, after a lapse of time, during which don ruy felt his heart beat with unaccustomed anxiety and fear, donna leonor passed and paused to moisten her fingers in the marble holy-water stoup, either from timidity or inattention, she did not raise her eyes to him under her drawn veil. with her attendant of the staring eyes glued to her side, and between the two lackeys as between twin towers, she leisurely crossed the square, stone by stone, enjoying, doubtless, as prisoners do, the expanse of air and the free sun{7} that bathed it, and don ruy was astonished when she penetrated into the sombre arcade, with its stout pillars which supported the palace, and she disappeared through a narrow door all covered with iron-work. this then was the famous donna leonor, the lovely and noble lady of lara.... then commenced seven drawn-out days which he spent seated at his stone window-seat gazing at that black door, with its thick covering of iron-work, as if it were the door of paradise, and an angel would issue from it to give him tidings of eternal bliss. at last the lingering sunday came, and as, bearing a bunch of yellow carnations for his divine godmother, he passed through the square at the hour of prime, when the bells were ringing, he crossed donna leonor coming out, white, sweet,{8} and pensive, from between the pillars of the dark arcade like a moon from between clouds. the carnations almost fell from his hands in the delightful agitation with which his breast heaved more strongly than a sea, and his whole soul fled from him in tumult in a look that devoured her. and she too raised her eyes to don ruy, but eyes reposeful and serene, without a gleam of curiosity or even of consciousness that they were exchanging glances with other eyes so inflamed and darkened by desire. the young knight abstained from entering the church from the pious fear of not giving to his divine godmother the attention which would, he knew, be all taken up by her who, though only human, was already mistress of his heart and deified there.
he waited eagerly at the door among{9} the beggars, parching the carnations with the heat of his trembling hands, and thinking how long-drawn-out was the rosary she was saying, and, as soon as donna leonor began to descend the nave, he felt within his soul the sweet rustling of the thick silks she dragged over the stone slabs. the white lady passed by, and the same absent look, heedless and calm, which she cast over the beggars and the square, she let fall over him, either because she did not comprehend that youth who had suddenly turned so pale, or because she did not yet distinguish him from things and forms which were of no account to her.
don ruy moved away, sighing deeply, and, once in his room, devoutly placed before the image of the virgin the flowers which he had not offered at her altar in{10} the church. his whole life then became one long complaint at finding such coldness and cruelty in that woman, unique amongst women, who had taken hold of his light and wandering heart and made it serious. with a hope which he clearly foresaw would prove deceptive, he began to pace round the lofty garden walls; or, muffled in his cloak, leaning against a corner, spent slow hours contemplating the bars of the lattice windows, black and thick like those of a prison. the walls did not part asunder, nor did a single ray of hopeful light issue from the gratings. the whole mansion was like a sepulchre where lay an insensible creature, and behind the cold stones there was also a cold breast. to give vent to his feelings he composed with pious care, during watchful nights over parchment, lament{11}able verses which failed to relieve him. before the altar of our lady of the pillar, on the same slabs where he had seen her kneeling, he rested his knees and stayed without words of prayer, in bitter-sweet musing, hoping that his heart would be calmed and solaced under the influence of her who calms and solaces all. but he always rose up more miserable, and with only the feeling of how cold and hard were the stones on which he had knelt. the whole world seemed to him to contain nought save severity and coldness. on other bright sunday mornings he met donna leonor, and her eyes always remained heedless, and as though unmindful; or, when they crossed his, they were so innocent and free from all emotion that don ruy would have preferred them offended and darting anger, or haughtily averted in{12} proud disdain. certain it was that donna leonor knew him now, but she also knew the moorish flower-woman squatted before her basket beside the fountain, or the poor who loused themselves in the sun before our lady’s porch. nor could don ruy any longer think that she was cruel and cold. she was only royally remote, like a star that revolves and glitters high above, unconscious that below, in a world it cannot discern, eyes it does not suspect are contemplating it, adoring it, and intrusting it with the government of their fortune and destiny. then don ruy thought, 'she will not, i cannot; it was a dream that is ended, and may our lady keep us both in her favour!’ and being a very discreet knight, as soon as he recognised that she could not be moved from her indifference, he neither{13} sought her nor even raised his eyes any more to the gratings of her windows, nor did he even enter the church of our lady when, casually, from the porch, he espied her kneeling with her graceful golden head bent over her book of hours.
