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 This book was presented by 
 
 Mr. Kenneth W. Winston^ Sr 
 
THIS BOOK IS DUE ON THE DATE 
 INDICATED BELOW AND IS SUB- 
 JECT TO AN OVERDUE FINE AS 
 POSTED AT THE CIRCULATION 
 DESK. 
 
 Aub 2 8 1974 
 OCT J 1992 
 
 30M-10 72 
 
^ 
 
IHE FOUNTAIX OF YOLTH. 
 
THE 
 
 FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 
 
 TRAXSLATKO FBOM THK 
 
 DANISH OF FREDERIK PALUDAN-iMULLER. 
 
 BY 
 
 HUMPHRY WILLIAM FRp]ELA^D, 
 
 LATE M.P. FOR CHICHESTER. 
 
 WITH I LLrST RATIONS DESIGNED HY WALTER ALLEN, 
 ENGRAVED ON WOOD B Y J. D. COOPER. 
 
 J. B. LIPPI^N-COTT & CO. 
 
 1867. 
 
TO 
 
 m fntnis in gcnmarit 
 
 I DEDICATE 
 THESE riEST-FRmTS OF SYMPATHETIC IXTEECOL^KSE 
 AIs-D OF A HAPPY SOJOTJEN 
 IN THEIll LAND 
 
Go, little book, the frail yet cherished token 
 Of love which to a kindred land I bear ; 
 
 Let e limes in which my mother-tongue is spoken, 
 The life and thoughts of Denmark's genius share. 
 
 That life wars nobly ivitJi a luorld of sense, 
 In the pure spirit of the bard whose plan 
 
 Was ' to assert Eternal Providence, 
 A7id justify the zvays of God to man! 
 
 I love the land where still, like thunder shaking 
 The mighty Fjeld with voices loud aiid strojig, 
 
 A n Oehlenschldgcj^'s glorious lyre is waking 
 The echoes of imperishable song. 
 
 I love the land zuhej^e still, 'mid laughter thrilling 
 TJirough joyous hearts that live but in applause. 
 
 With wit's light quiver Virtue's task fulfilling. 
 Its listening thousands Holb erg's ge7iius draivs. 
 
VIU 
 
 / love the land zu/iere still, ivitJi tempests rolling 
 Aj'oiind Jiini, in a kingdom half derthrozuji, 
 
 Earth's mightiest Seiilptor stands, a world eontrolling, 
 Inspires all art, and breatJies in living stone. 
 
 Go, little book ! upon the eonqiieror's morrow 
 A true Jieart fazvns not, — tnrns to fame more bright, 
 
 Where Denmark's genius der the realms of sorrow, 
 A nd Times dark cloud-land scatters golden light. 
 
 'ff 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 PAGE 
 DON DIEGO DE HERRERA QUITS THE OLD WORLD — HE GOES 
 
 IN SEARCH OF AND DISCOVERS THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH 13 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 THE JIRST EFFECTS OF HIS BATH IN THE FOUNTAIN OF 
 YOUTH ON HIMSELF AND ON HIS FAMILY" AFTER HIS 
 RETURN 29 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HE MEETS A DOMINICAN MONK THE CONSEQUENCES OF 
 
 -DON DIEGO 
 SAILS FOR MEXICO 53 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 DON DIEGO ARRIVES AT CUBA AND VERA CRUZ HE SERVES 
 
 UNDER CORTEZ THE BEAUTIFUL DOROTHEA THE 
 
 BATTLE THE ARREST OF DON DIEGO — THE FALL OF 
 
 MEXICO 73 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTEE V. 
 
 PAGE 
 THE MARCH THROUGH THE COUNTRY — BROTHER FRANCISCO 
 
 — THE DEATH-FESTIVAL DON DIEGO IS AGAIN PLACED 
 
 UNDER ARREST HIS FLIGHT WITH DOROTHEA ... 99 
 
 CHAPTEE YI. 
 
 THEY ARRIVE AT VERA CRUZ — THE CONFESSION AND 
 
 APPEAL OF DOROTHEA 115 
 
 CHAPTEE VII. 
 
 DOROTHEA EMBARKS FOR SANTO DOMINGO, AND DON DIEGO 
 
 FOR THE ISTHMUS OF PANAMA HE DEVOTES HIMSELF 
 
 TO A hermit's life 125 
 
 CHAPTEE YIIL 
 the hermit's life and death 137 
 
LIST OE ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH Front 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. 1 15 
 
 DON DIEGO HEARS OF THE NEW WORLD 18 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. II 31 
 
 DONA INEZ REFUSES TO SHARE HER HUSBAND's NEW LIFE . 47 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. Ill 55 
 
 DON DIEGO MEETS BROTHER LORENZO 57 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. IV 75 
 
 DON DIEGO MEETS DOROTHEA IN HER FATHER's TENT . . 78 
 
 DON DIEGO DISPUTES WITH DON GONZALO 88 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. V 101 
 
Xll LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 DON DIEGO REFUSES TO LIGHT THE FUNERAL PILE . . . lOG 
 
 DON DIEGO AND DOROTHEA ESCAPE Ill 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. YI 117 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. VII 127 
 
 DON DIEGO PROPOSES TO JOIN THE HERMIT ISi 
 
 INITIAL LETTER TO CHAP. VIII 139 
 
 DEATH OF DON DIEGO . 145 
 
THE 
 
 FOUNTAIN OE YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTEE T. 
 
 Do7i Diego de Herrera quits the Old World — He goes in Search of and 
 discovers the Fountain of Youth. 
 
CHAPTEK I. 
 
 HE incidents of the foUow- 
 
 ino; tale belong* to the 
 
 period of the great dis- 
 coveries. On the path 
 which Columbus had first 
 traced, a new world had 
 been, one might almost 
 say, called forth from the 
 bosom of the sea, to the 
 amazement of the wise men of those times and 
 to the Sifiiiite delidit of fools. The track of 
 
lt> THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 Columbus had since been followed by many brave 
 and valiant men. Each succeeding day brought 
 news of the discovery of fresh districts and islands, 
 of beasts and plants till then unseen ; of immense 
 woods, and mountains that touched the skies ; of 
 rivers swelling like the sea ; of new stars and con- 
 stellations shining with a sj)lendour never known 
 before. In that New World even Nature herself 
 seemed to have undergone a total change. If to 
 these we add the numerous tales and reports which 
 a host of adventurers brought with them ; of a 
 marvellous tribe, an Amazon kingdom, a discovered 
 Eldorado, one may understand how it was that in 
 Europe all thoughts were filled with images of an 
 extreme magnificence, while conversation in the Old 
 World turned entirely on the features which the 
 New World was said to present. All hoj^es and 
 wishes took the same course as the sun, travelling 
 from east to west, to the coasts of the distant land 
 of gold and wonders. 
 
I.] SEAECH AND DISCOVERY. 17 
 
 At this time there lived in Spain a noble cavalier, 
 by name Diego de Herrera. He was a man some- 
 what advanced in years, but still in the possession 
 of vigour and strength. His blood was still as warm 
 and his spirit as impetuous as when, while yet a 
 young man, he fought against the Moors under Queen 
 Isabella of Castile, who had knighted him with her 
 own hand on the field of battle. Before the OTeat 
 Queen's death he had relinquished the occupations 
 of a soldier and a courtier, and had been livino- for 
 several years in retirement at the little coast town 
 of Santa Lucia, where he had settled, with his wife 
 Dona Inez, two young daughters and a son, Fer- 
 nando, then nearly twenty years old. Don Diego, 
 while living in retirement, was Hke a plant placed in 
 the shade and longing for sunshine. His looks w^ere 
 turned outwards — he walked daily to the harbour, 
 where the merchants of the town and men of leisure 
 congregated. It was here that ships loaded and dis- 
 charged their cargoes. Hence they sailed to the New 
 
 B 
 
IS THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [ch.u>. 
 
 World, and hither they returned, bringing with them 
 treasures and travellers who filled the ears of the 
 people with tales of their marvellous adventures. 
 No man listened to these tales with greater eager- 
 ness than Don Diego. The more he heard, the 
 poorer appeared his home and the monotonous life 
 which he led in his own country ; while the mag- 
 nificence of America assumed the appearance of 
 even greater splendour. He daily grew more and 
 more desirous of winning for himself a share in the 
 prosperity of that distant country. At last, the 
 very thought of it left him no rest day or night, 
 and when his resolution was once taken he lost not 
 a moment in giving effect to it. Having sold his 
 house and his land, he took leave of his relations 
 and friends, and embarked with his wife and chil- 
 dren on board a brigantine, which carried him 
 towards the New World, with all that he possessed. 
 He seemed now for the first time to breathe in 
 freedom ! He wandered with a smile on his lips up 
 
DOX DIEOO HEARS OF THE XE"W WORLD. 
 
I.] SEARCH AND DISCOVERY. 19 
 
 and down the deck of the vessel. The wind played 
 with his white locks, and his eyes, as if under the 
 influence of some fascination, followed the sun w^hen 
 setting in the golden skies of the West. If the sea 
 was smooth and still, he stood for hours together 
 bending over the gunwale, his fixed eyes staring 
 down into the deep clear waters of the Atlantic 
 sea. In images, his own anticipations, which the 
 deep intensified, streamed by — dreams of youth 
 long vanished were once more gathered round him, 
 and old remembrances shone bright as hopes re- 
 flected in the miiTor of the crystal sea. Eapidly 
 the dreamer's days rolled on, when one morning, as 
 he looked over the sea from the vessel's prow, he 
 saw the object of his journey — the island of Santo 
 Domingo, which lay in front of him smiling in 
 morn's rosy light. 
 
 The first to land and greet the New World, Don 
 Diego waved his hat in triumph. Afterwards, 
 attended by his wife, with his daughters and son 
 
 b2 
 
20 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chai'. 
 
 he betook himself to the town. It had recently 
 been founded, and bore the same name as the 
 island. It lay on an elevation sloping up towards 
 the cathedi^al, which, surrounded by white houses 
 with intervening gardens, seemed to greet them 
 from afar. 
 
 On arriving at the town Don Diego took a 
 lease of a house for himself and for his family. 
 He then visited many of his countrymen who had 
 settled in the island, and whom he had known in 
 Spain. They were startled at seeing him, but 
 received him cordially, and gave him information on 
 the spot as to the state and circumstances of the 
 colony. If he desired to make his fortune, and it 
 was probably with that object that he had come, 
 there was not any time to be lost. For many days 
 the fleet which w^as to sail on a new voyage of 
 discovery had been ready to take its departure. 
 The object of its destination was a celebrated 
 northern gold land. On its way, the fleet was to 
 
I.] SEARCH AND DISCOVERY. 21 
 
 visit the island of Bimini, about which tales were 
 told that were hardly to be credited. All who wished 
 to take part in the expedition must embark without 
 delay on board the vessels, which were only waiting 
 for a favourable wind. 
 
 No better news could have reached Don Diego. 
 He hastened back to his home, and, kissing her hand 
 and lips, took leave of Dona Inez. He embraced 
 his daughters, commended them and his house to 
 his son Fernando, and betook himself in haste to 
 the port, where he arrived at the last moment, and 
 obtained a place on board the admiral's ship Argo. 
 A wind had just sprung up. How highly now he 
 praised the fortune which befriended him. He had 
 hardly landed in the New World, when already 
 he was on his way, like another Jason, to win the 
 golden fleece. 
 
 Before a fresh breeze the fleet set sail, and at the 
 head of the squadron was the ship on which he 
 found himself in company with the distinguished 
 
22 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 leader of the expedition, the discoverer of Florida, 
 Admiral Ponce de Leon, his old friend in Spain, 
 and a fellow-traveller of the great Columbus. The 
 voyage was prosperous. Ponce de Leon, whose first 
 object was the island of Bimini, steered his vessel 
 northwards. The island for a long time was sought 
 in vain. It was only when they arrived at San 
 Salvador, where at an earlier period Columbus had 
 landed, that they became acquainted with the sea- 
 marks of the island and the north-western course^ 
 which must be jDursued. The wind was favourable, 
 and the course of the ship's keel was marked in a 
 track of foam as it cleft its way amid the billows. 
 All were on the tiptoe of expectation, and through- 
 out the fleet the name of Bimini passed from mouth 
 to mouth. What was told with respect to this island 
 was indeed marvellous ; but faith was more powerful 
 than doubt in a period in which daily life j)roduced 
 both numerous and stupendous prodigies. 
 
 On this island, so ran the report, there was 
 
r.] SEARCH AND DISCOVERY. 23 
 
 a fountain, with water of such power that one 
 might even call it a fountain of life, since life was 
 renewed, not merely strengthened, within its wave. 
 If a man dipped a flower in it, though never so 
 faded and withered, perfume, freshness and colour 
 at once returned. If a bird when wounded by an 
 arrow sunk in its waters, the wound was at once 
 healed, the crippled wing recovered its powers of 
 motion and flight. If an old worn-out animal 
 Ixithed in them, one saw it again rise out of them 
 renewed in form, as well as invested with the power 
 and beauty of its youthful prime. 
 
 So ran the tale by which through new reports the 
 old tradition was confirmed. Don Diego started ! 
 Was it possible that what was told him could be 
 true '? — was it possible to summon back again life's 
 vanished power 1 — could dry, cold, relaxed veins be 
 filled again with the fire of youth ? — could age, could 
 wrinkles and debility, be washed out, as if by Lethe's 
 wave, in its enchanted waters 1 The old Knight's 
 
24 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 heart expanded with the thought ; and happiness 
 which he had never dreamed of lay before him as 
 his jom^ney's end. 
 
 Bimini was soon in sight ; the fleet cast anchor. 
 The crew of the ship got leave to land in turns. 
 Boat after boat glided over the waves towards the 
 shore. On the bows of the fnst stood the old 
 knight by the side of the admiral. Before his 
 eyes the island lay distinctly visible, with hill and 
 dale entirely covered with wood, except on the 
 naked beach, where there was no trace of trees, of 
 houses, or of men. As soon as they went inland from 
 the coast their great expectations by degrees sub- 
 sided. All wore an aspect of desolation. In the deep 
 woods the earth, covered ^\dth copse and thorns, did 
 not seem to promise golden treasures or other advan- 
 tages, but rather toil and difficulties, and a severer 
 struggle with nature. 
 
 It was only the boldest of the crew whose hopes 
 and courage were sufficiently strong to induce them 
 
I.] SEARCH AND DISCOVERY. 25 
 
 to wander through the island in search of the 
 Fountain of Youth. The more deeply they pene- 
 trated into the pathless woods, the more irksome 
 any farther advance became, the more doubtful 
 did the existence of any such fountain seem. 
 
 Before sunset they had all returned to the boats, 
 weary of the fruitless search, and in a state of 
 complete exhaustion. A single member only of 
 the crew, Don Diego, did not return. About the 
 middle of the day he had been separated from his 
 companions. His eager impetuosity had not allowed 
 him to take rest wdiile cutting his way through 
 tangled thickets and sharp thorns. Unwearied and 
 hopeful, he pressed forward uninterruptedly. The 
 day Avas almost spent when he approached a more 
 open part of the wood, where the thicket came to 
 an end, and something resembling a 'path was visible 
 between the trees. He threw himself down by the 
 stump of a tree, wiped the 23erspiration from his 
 forehead, opened his knapsack, and after having 
 
26 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 recniitod himself with bread and wine continued 
 his wanderings. Now and then the vault of heaven 
 was visible, and a fresh and cooling breeze played 
 over him. Birds sang round him : he felt hope rise 
 within him and his courage increase. He trod the 
 earth with greater strength than before, and hastened 
 forward to the ])atli, until this all at once came to an 
 end, and he stood suddenly where the wood opened 
 before a large grass plain edged round with a sharp 
 and naked crest shinino- with the brig^htest tino-e of 
 evening red. Don Diego, as if waking from a dream, 
 stood still and sharpened his hatchet. He distinctly 
 heard the plashing of a jet of water. Tlie sound 
 was heard in rliythmical fall from a distance, as if it 
 were the strain of an enchanter. Listening and 
 spell-bound, he looked around him in the glow of 
 evening, which like a flaming rose- wreath surrounded 
 the grassy hill. He no longer doubted, but hastened 
 with delight over the plain, until he reached the foot 
 of the hill. From its side sj^rang a crystal jet of 
 
I.] SEARCH AND DISCOVERY. 27 
 
 water, wliicli poured its contents into a large round 
 pool Ijelow. 
 
 With throbbing heart the old Knight advanced to 
 the side of the pool, Avhich at its side was perfectly 
 clear and still, while the water at the foot of the 
 hill crisped into gentle ripples. He leant over 
 the water — a smile played over his lips, and a sigh 
 escaped from his breast. He hastily undressed 
 himself and descended into the clear waves, which 
 reached up to his waist. A shudder ran through 
 him as soon as his foot touched the sandy bottom 
 of the pool. He dipped himself three times, the 
 hist time so deeply that the water rushed over 
 the crown of his head, and each time he felt mar- 
 vellously strengthened, and renovated in heart and 
 limb. When he ros(^ again from the bath he felt as 
 if he had been born anew, and light enough of foot 
 to go dancing over the earth. He was astonished 
 (jn looking at his own body to see that every trace 
 and mark of time had vanished. The muscular 
 
28 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. i. 
 
 streaks along his legs had disappeared, his breast 
 was rounded like that of a youth, and on taking 
 hold of his own hair he discovered that its whiteness 
 liad been changed into a chestnut brown. He made 
 a, high and half involuntary bound, and, wiping the 
 water off his body, put on one by one the clothes 
 which he had recently laid aside. He had not yet 
 finished dressing when he felt himself overtaken by 
 a strong desire to sleep. He tottered, and then, as 
 if in a state of intoxication, cast one look more 
 around into the ruddy glow of evening. Then, 
 throwing himself on the greensward, he instantly 
 fell asleep. 
 
THE 
 
 EOUXTAIX OF YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTEK 11. 
 
 Tlix first effects of his Bath in the Fountain of Youth on Himself and 
 on his Family after his reiurn. 
 
CHAPTER IT. 
 
 ^ (j) /I HEX Don Diego opened his 
 eyes again it Ts^as bright 
 day. He looked around 
 and recognised the spot, 
 while the sound of the 
 plashing jet of water at 
 once revived in his soul 
 the recollections of the pre- 
 ceding evening. He sprang 
 
 up hastily from his couch and advanced to the pool. 
 
 There his youthful form, which he very well remem- 
 
32 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 l)ered, like that of a youth of twenty— with beaming 
 look, dark eyebrows, fresh colour, and curly locks — 
 was visible ; and, full of life, advanced to meet him 
 from the mirror of the wave below. It was, then, 
 indeed no dream ! His past had in truth returned, 
 and the youthful vigour which streamed through him 
 had obtained externally its corresponding and appro- 
 priate form. It was not without difficulty that he 
 tore himself away from the contemj^lation of his own 
 image in the water. He could not but admire him- 
 self, and praise the wonder-working power. Invoking 
 and thanking the Madonna, he threw himself on 
 his knee and promised to devote the new life which 
 had been given to him not less to the honour of 
 God and of the Church than to the hapj)iness of 
 himself and of his family. After having made 
 these promises and taken a parting draught from 
 the fountain, he began his journey back again 
 through the wood. Here he was soon again forced 
 to make use of his hatchet as his former track was 
 
II.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 33 
 
 not to be found. After great efforts and difficulties 
 lie reached the coast towards evening, but found 
 there, to his sorrow, neither men nor ships. The 
 fleet had vanished — the night, which gathered 
 Tound him, disclosed nothing but the prospect of an 
 appalliQg solitude. In gloomy thought he watched 
 throughout the night, but the first smile of morning 
 was that of fortune also. While looking over the 
 sea at sunrise he perceived a brig, sailing under the 
 Spanish flag, which, as it sailed by, approached the 
 coast. In a moment he hoisted his hat and feather 
 on a pole and made a signal to the ship. The signal 
 was perceived, the brig turned and cast anchor, and 
 shortly afterwards a boat was put out which steered 
 directly towards the island. After a short negotia- 
 tion it took the Knight on board, and thereupon the 
 ship continued its journey. It was, as he had con- 
 jectured, one of the vessels of the fleet, but its crew 
 was as unknown to him as was its elderly captain, 
 who approached him gravely and with ceremony, 
 
3l THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 and said : " Young man, we welcome you on board. 
 Tell me your name and station, and tell me how you 
 came to be in such distressing circumstances/' Don 
 Diego, who had looked vaguely around on finding 
 himself addressed by the Avords "young man," 
 collected himself, and replied that he had recently 
 come from Spain, and had belonged to the crew of 
 the Admirars ship Argo. He had been by accident 
 left behind upon the island. Being alone and with- 
 out the means of subsistence, his days, had no 
 help reached him, would in all human probabiHty 
 come speedily to an end. Thereupon he next 
 mentioned his name and his rank of knighthood, 
 at which the captain stared and exclaimed : " The 
 man who, young as you are, has risen so high on 
 the ladder of honour, must have services to show 
 which may be of use to all of us as an example. 
 Allow me to present you to my officers." He then 
 beckoned to some young men, to whom Don Diego 
 very cordially held out his hand. They soon became 
 
II.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 35 
 
 acquainted with one another, and the Knight learnt 
 in the course of conversation that the fleet, after 
 leaving Bimini, had made a successful voyage, and a 
 few days since had discovered towards the north a 
 large and rich countr}", which promised enormous 
 booty to those who had discovered it. The captain 
 was now on his return voyage to Santo Domingo. 
 He had gone to fetch new supplies for the ships, as it 
 was intended that they should cruise for a considerable 
 time along the coasts of the country. Don Diego 
 heard this account with increasing surprise, as it alto- 
 gether baffled his calculations as to time. When 
 he asked how long the fleet had sailed from Bimini, 
 the captain answered : *' Twelve days ! just twelve 
 days since, in the gray of morning, the ships had left 
 the island, in whose treasures and enchanted fountain 
 no man put faith any longer. They had searched 
 the island through and to no purpose, during three 
 days and nights, with diflerent parts of the crews, 
 and had found it in all directions uncultivated 
 
 C2 
 
36 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 and covered with wood." The Knight made no reply, 
 but now saw clearly that his sleep by the fountain 
 must have been both deep and long, and that the 
 sun must have risen and sunk many times during 
 his slumber. He thanked the captain for his in- 
 formation, turned aside and gave himself up again to 
 his dreams, which had never flourished with greater 
 luxuriance, or, to change the metaphor, had never 
 taken a higher flight. Young in strength and old 
 in experience, what would he not now be able to 
 accomplish in the world. What a brilliant path to 
 achievements, honour, and riches, lay now before him, 
 and in his person for the members of his family, to 
 whom his heart and affections were devoted ! How 
 long might he not enjoy this happy life on earth ! 
 He mio-ht now have the whole life of a man before 
 him, in which he might ♦escape his earlier errors, 
 and accomplish all the abandoned plans of his youth. 
 He was suddenly aroused from these delightful 
 dreams by the remarks of one of the young officers. 
 
II.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 87 
 
 who in^dtecl liim to join their re]3ast in the cabin.. 
 The captain most probably would not be present, 
 but if he were absent there would be less restraint, 
 and the meeting would be a more lively and con- 
 vivial one. 
 
 Don Diego accepted the invitation, and very soon 
 found himself at table, surrounded by young men, 
 two of whom were utter madcaps. The wine went 
 briskly round, the bowls were emptied, and con- 
 versation turned in part on the means of making 
 one's fortune, but chiefly on love adventures and 
 pretty women. One love story was served up after 
 another ; every one of them had new and old tales 
 to tell for mutual entertainment ; and at last Don 
 Diego himself, who had hitherto been a silent 
 listener, was in\dted to lay open his heart and to 
 confess his sins. " Ah ! gentlemen,'' replied the 
 Knight, " what can a man of my age add to this 
 chapter of confessions ? When a man has been 
 married, as I have been, for many years, and has 
 
38 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 already grown-up cliildren, his love adventures are 
 few indeed and far between." 
 
 These words were received by all present with 
 foars of laughter, and one of the madcaps exclaimed, 
 " Has no one any sneezing-powder 1 It might help 
 our honoured guest to recover his senses. No, no. 
 Sir Knight, so large a store of faith you must not 
 hope to find in laymen. You, who can hardly be 
 twenty-four years old, can you abeady have grown- 
 up children'? The possibility of your marriage I 
 cannot deny, but if you have in reality been 
 married for many years, you could hardly have been 
 able to dress yourself for the marriage ceremony." 
 New laughter followed, and Madcap proceeded : 
 " Our honoured guest will not speak out, but his 
 embarrassed mien speaks more intelligibly than lan- 
 guage. I propose to you to drink to the health of 
 his unknown fair one — his Amanda, Miranda, or Ga- 
 lanta — whatever may be the capacity in which she 
 has managed to entangle him in her meshes." 
 
II] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 39 
 
 They all swung round their cups. The Knight, 
 who could not play Sir Solemn in the midst of so 
 much merriment, thanked them for the toast, but 
 added, while setting his cup upon the table : 
 
 *' It were only cowardice on my part to refuse to 
 acknowledge wife and children. Gentlemen, I hope 
 soon to present you to my family, and to convince 
 you that what I say is true. I drink to a pros- 
 perous voyage, and also to a happy meeting with 
 those we love." 
 
 They all responded to the toast and left the table, 
 but his life thenceforward was no longer one of 
 solitude. Notwithstanding his reserved and serious 
 manner, he had won in a high degree the good-will 
 of the young officers, and they became throughout 
 the voyage his constant companions. He shared 
 their meals and military exercises, and became the 
 confidant of their secrets. One, especially, of the 
 madcaps above mentioned, whose name was Leandro 
 Gomez, was inexhaustible in his supply of confidential 
 
40 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 communications. The youth had two sweethearts, of 
 whose graces he was constantly talking to Don Diego, 
 to whom he promised to introduce both of them, in 
 order that he might judge of their amiability, and 
 help him to decide which of the two deserved the 
 prize. The Knight excused himself from this judicial 
 function, and felt upon the whole somewhat op- 
 pressed by constant intercourse with these light- 
 hearted youths, whose thoughts ran first and last on 
 luck in play and love adventures. To their language 
 he had become a stranger, their interests he could 
 not share, their mode of life seemed pitiful and 
 frivolous, and their conversation not unfrequently 
 brought the blood up into his cheeks. AMienever 
 that occurrred, he withdrew himself from their 
 hale fellowship, and joined the old and somewhat 
 pedantic captain, who spent many hours every 
 day in walking up and down the deck. He was 
 then obliged to play the part of listener, for 
 the solemn old gentleman was easily offended, and 
 
11.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 41 
 
 put aside all his remarks and objections witli two 
 words : 
 
 "Yes, yes, young man; we shall not differ in 
 opinion on that point when you are twenty years 
 older." 
 
 With this the Knight was forced to be con- 
 tented. He had then to betake himself to his 
 young friends, of whose society he had had more 
 than enough, when, after a protracted voyage, 
 . he again caught sight of Santo Domingo. The 
 ship ran into the harbour, and lay to at the 
 rampart, where a great number of persons were 
 assembled. 
 
 Don Diego, who just at that moment had taken 
 leave of his travelling companions, perceived two 
 young ladies, who were walking arm-in-arm upon 
 the pier. At the first glance he recognised his 
 daughters. His heart was stirred. He sprang to 
 shore, and rushed to meet them, crying out : 
 
 "Elvira! Isabella!" 
 
42 THE FOUXTAIX OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 The young ladies stopped and looked at him with 
 amazement. 
 
 " My children ! " he continued ; " your father has 
 come back again." 
 
 With outstretched arms he embraced them and 
 drew them to his heart. Blushing and shrieking in 
 his embrace, they tore themselves away from him, 
 amid the laughter of the bystanders, while the 
 officers from the ship cried out, " Bravo, Don Diego ! 
 Bravo ! " 
 
 At the same moment a young man rushed for- 
 ward with a naked sword, and placing himself in an 
 attitude of defence, took the young ladies under his 
 protection. 
 
 " Fernando," cried the Knight, " my son, what 
 means this conduct ? Sheathe your sword, and 
 endeavour to bring your sisters to their senses." 
 
 " Back, scoundrel ! " replied the young man. 
 " Dare again to touch these ladies, and you are a 
 dead man." 
 
II.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 43 
 
 " My children ! " exclaimed the Knight with a 
 sigh, "have you no eyes, no ears'? Do you no 
 longer know your father 1 " 
 
 '' Away with thee, madman I " exclaimed Fer- 
 nando, " lest thy madness smite me that so I spill a 
 madman's blood." 
 
 " A madman ! " answered Don Diego, while he 
 stared hard at his son ; " but you are right. Come, 
 follow me to your mother. Follow me to Dona 
 Inez. Here we only provoke contempt, and disgrace 
 one another." 
 
 With these words, Don Diego turned hastily aside 
 from the gaping multitude, and betook himself to 
 the town, followed, part of the way, by a crowd, 
 and by people who stared at him from every side. 
 When freed at last from this irksome attendance, he 
 said to himself : " How strange that I am always 
 myself forgetting the miracle that has been wrought 
 in my person ! How can I expect that others should 
 recognise in me the old man, when I present myself 
 
44 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [cuap. 
 
 as a young man before their eyes ? "What has hap- 
 pened shall be a lesson to me in future. I will be 
 my own herald to my wife." 
 
 With this resolve, he hastened into the town, and 
 went to his former dwelling, where he caused him- 
 self to be announced to the lady of the house. He 
 was received in a moment by Dona Inez, a respect- 
 able, and, notwithstanding her grey hair, still good- 
 looking old lady, who looked at him stedfastly, and 
 then begged him to take a seat and discharge his 
 errand. 
 
 The Knight commenced by saying : "I have a 
 greeting to present to you from your husband. 
 He bade me announce to you that he should shortly 
 return home." 
 
 The message seemed to be highly pleasing to the 
 lady. She inquired after Don Diego's health, and 
 where he had last been seen, and seemed never 
 to be tired of asking questions about his person 
 and his journey. 
 
n.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 45 
 
 On these points the Knight gave her very full 
 particulars, entirely in accordance with those which 
 have been already communicated to the reader. 
 
 Dona Inez listened to his words with close 
 attention, and kept her eyes fixed on him as he 
 spoke. Her features evinced increasing anxiety 
 as the Knight proceeded, and when at last he spoke 
 of the Fountain of Bimini and the miraculous change 
 that it had wrought, she suddenly changed colour, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 "In truth you tell me things that are quite 
 incredible. Your words make my heart tremble. 
 It seems as if I were myself drawn within the 
 enchanted circle that you open for me. Your 
 voice appears familiar to me. Your figure, which 
 I see here for the first time, recalls to me in 
 living colours my own youth and the figure of my 
 husband in the flower of his age. His appearance 
 was just that of yourself while sitting there. The 
 likeness is complete. Hair, features, mien, looks, 
 
46 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 colour. His very hands, too, had exactly the 
 form of yours. Eeach me your hand ! How 
 wonderful ! You can hardly yourself comprehend 
 the sjnupathy which you awaken. What is your 
 name « 
 
 " Diego," replied the Kjiight in a sulodued tone. 
 
 " Diego ! " she replied, and stared at him with 
 astonishment. '' And your surname '? " 
 
 "De Herrera ! " he replied, while he threw him- 
 self down before her, and exclaimed : " Yes, my 
 Inez, it is indeed myself; it is indeed Diego de 
 Herrera, the bridegroom of your youth, who lies 
 here at your feet. It is only the weight of 
 years, it is only their darkening veil, which has 
 been removed. He whom you see before you is the 
 true, the blooming, the fortunate Diego, and it is 
 only his old and worn-out form which he has left 
 behind him in the Fountain of Youth.'' 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! '' whispered Doiia Inez, while tears 
 went rolling do^n her cheeks, " your words, and. 
 
DONA INEZ KKKUSES TO SHARK HKR HUSBAND'S NEW LIFE. ^JC!^e 47-. 
 
 4r- _ 
 
II.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 47 
 
 still more, your appearance, pronounce a sentence of 
 separation between us." 
 
 " How so ? " exclaimed the Knight, as he sprang 
 up and eagerly pressed her hand to his lips. " Sepa- 
 ration ! never f-'^n.IJappiness now for the first time 
 rises before us, with alPftre brilliancy and brightness 
 of the sun that smiled upon our youth. Hymen's 
 torch is now kindled anew." 
 
 " Judge then for yourself," said Dona Inez, 
 with a sigh, while she led him forward in front 
 of the glass. " Is my grey hair in accordance 
 with yours, which is of a chestnut brown ? These 
 pale and sunken cheeks — this forehead wrinkled 
 by time — this bent form — can aU these be in 
 Hn^mony with your fresh and youthful existence, 
 your beaming looks and upright figure ? Impos- 
 sible ! " 
 
 The Knig;ht stood for a moment confused before 
 the mirror, and then exclaimed : " The Fountain of 
 Youth is not dried up, it is still there, ^yhatever 
 
48 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. f^^^^- 
 
 trouble it may cost to lead you to its renovating 
 waters shall not be spared." 
 
 Take no trouble as to that matter/' whispered 
 Dona Inez, with a mournful smile. " Its waters are 
 not for me. My heart never gave itself up to 
 sorcery. My vanished youth I never will recall. 
 I must then be separated from my children, as now 
 from you, and seem to them a stranger." 
 
 *' Silence ! " exclaimed Don Diego, starting, " I 
 hear their voices. Tell them everything. I must 
 now leave you to arrange matters for our next more 
 tranquil meeting." 
 
 With these words, the Knight left the apartment, 
 and his children, who shortly afterwards came in, 
 with visible emotion informed their mother of what 
 had passed at the harbour with the hairbrained 
 youngster who had pretended to be their father. 
 
 Doiia Inez begged them not to be in a hurry to 
 feel resentment towards the stranger. They all knew 
 by report the Fountain of Youth which was to be 
 
n.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 49 
 
 found on tlie island of Bimini. To discover it 
 had been the object of the fleet that had last 
 sailed. What, if Don Diego had discovered the 
 fountain, and had regained his youth in its reno- 
 vating waters 1 What, if the strange young man 
 was in reality their old father '? 
 
 Fernando, as well as Elvira and Isabella, stared 
 inquiringly, and as if in the greatest amazement, 
 at Doha Inez, who proceeded steadily, though not 
 without emotion : — 
 
 " You think that I am talkino- at random. Look 
 
 o 
 
 with your own eyes on him in whom I have recog- 
 nised the bridegroom of my youth. Hear with your 
 own ears what he wiU tell you of his and our lono; 
 life and union, with the most secret incidents of 
 which he is familiar." 
 
 Here she opened a side door, and begged Don 
 Diego to come in to them. As soon as he made 
 his appearance, his two daughters, who imme- 
 diately recognised the stranger, drew back in 
 
 D 
 
50 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 alarm, while Fernando seized the handle of his 
 sword. 
 
 Dona Inez led the Knight by the hand towards 
 his children, and said to them : " Behold your father ! 
 His life, indeed, is one with ours. He sat by your 
 cradle, and has borne you in his arms. Ask him, 
 and he will answer you as to everything." 
 
 The young girls stood confused, and it was not 
 without hesitation that Fernando took the hand 
 which the Knight extended towards him. Eecog- 
 nition was much more difficult on the part of the 
 children than it had been on the part of Dona 
 Inez. They had never before seen that youthful 
 form, and the voice and speech alone reminded them 
 of their father. At last, after a lengthened conver- 
 sation, they seemed to arrive at a sort of recognition, 
 but it w^as not without blushing, and some sense of 
 shame, that they suffered themselves to be embraced 
 by their father, and to receive his kiss. This em- 
 barrassment did not cease even after they had been 
 
II.] EFFECTS OF THE BATH. 51 
 
 living together for several days. Indeed, it appeared 
 to be mutual, so tliat the Knight never approached 
 his youthful daughters, or entered into conversation 
 with his son, without a certain degree of anxiety. 
 More and more he was forced to admit the truth of 
 his wife's words, that a separation, or it -might be 
 termed a divorce, had taken place between them. 
 In the presence of the servants, at meal times, and 
 at other domestic meetings, Dona Inez was often 
 veiled, and always serious, and when the Knight 
 entered the apartment, his mere entrance was of 
 itself sufficient to bring the blush of shame into 
 his daughters' cheeks. Fernando was constrained, 
 and chary of words. Days passed in silence, 
 and any common enterprise — such, for instance, 
 as a walk or ride — in which they might be seen 
 together by all the world, was quite out of the 
 question. 
 
 This mutual shyness and want of harmony be- 
 came at last so painful for all of them, that 
 
 D 2 
 
52 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. ii. 
 
 the Knight determined on a voluntary sejjaration 
 from his family, until the return of Ponce de 
 Leon might afford him an opportunity of leaving 
 the island, in order to embark on a fresh voyage of 
 discovery. 
 
THE 
 
 rOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 He meets a Dominican Monk — The consequences of the Monk's 
 Treachery— The Inquisition — Don Diego sails for Mexico. 
 
CHAPTEE III. 
 
 ^ N accordance with this de- 
 7 termination, Don Diego 
 made such arrangements 
 in his apartments as ren- 
 dered it unnecessary for 
 him to meet his wife and 
 children at dinner, or at 
 fixed intervals. An old 
 servant provided for his 
 wants, and carried messages between him and 
 Dona Inez, by which means, notwithstanding their 
 
 
56 THE FOUXTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 separatioD, a kind of communication was kept up 
 between them. 
 
 The Knight, meanwhile, was painfully affected by 
 his position, which was very far indeed from corre- 
 sponding with the golden dream of happiness in 
 which he had indulged. On the evening of the first 
 day, which he passed in solitude, he left his dwelling 
 in melancholy mood, in order to relieve his depres- 
 sion by a silent walk. He wished if possible, by 
 giving his thoughts free play, to find the means of 
 escaping from his present embarrassment. It was 
 the first occasion upon which, since his return, he 
 had shown himself in public. 
 
 While going down to the street, he accidentally 
 met the young men who had been his travelling 
 companions on board the vessel, who came around 
 him full of mirth and spirits, and asked him 
 according to his j)i'oi^ise to introduce them to 
 his family, to his pretty wife and daughters, who 
 were, perhaps, still in their cradles at play with 
 
DON DIEGO MEETS BROTHER LORENZO. 
 
 JKige 5 1 
 
III.] THE DOMIXICAN MOXK. 57 
 
 their corals ; and more especially to the two 
 pretty young ladies whom he had embraced upon 
 the pier. It was not without dij0&culty that Don 
 ^iego got quit of the young madcaps, who, for- 
 tunately for him, were about to sail on the same 
 ^If^^ening with the vessel which was to carry pro- 
 visions to the fleet. 
 
 He continued his walk, and passing by the Domi- 
 nican Cloister, went down to the shore. The moon 
 had already risen. Her silver beams played on the 
 surface of the waters. Here he wandered for an 
 hour backwards and forwards in the brig-ht, clear 
 moonshine, the product of a tropical heaven, and 
 gave himself up entirely to his thoughts. 
 
 There were many pedestrians who met him, and 
 among them an elderly Dominican monk, in the 
 black attire of his order, who passed him twice and 
 looked hard at him, but at last, turning round again, 
 stopped and saluted him with the following words : 
 
 " What a beautiful and agreeable evening ! For- 
 
58 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 give me, young man, if I interrupt yom^ medita- 
 tions. I seem to know your face, although at this 
 moment I cannot remember where I have seen you." 
 
 " You must certainly be mistaken," answered the 
 Knight. '•' I have not long since arrived from San 
 Lucar, in Spain, and have few acquaintances in this 
 23lace." 
 
 "From San Lucar," rej^lied the monk, without 
 noticing the objection. " No doubt, then, you are 
 acquainted with Seville 1 " 
 
 " Yes ; tolerably well," was the reply. 
 
 " Young man," continued the Ecclesiastic, '' I 
 shall not in that event release you until you have 
 given me some tidings of certain distinguished rela- 
 tives of mine from whom I have not heard during 
 the space of ten years." 
 
 He mentioned two names with which Don 
 Diego was well acquainted. Conversation had 
 now commenced between them, and as it seemed 
 to give mutual satisfaction, it was continued for a 
 
ni.] THE DOMINICAN MONK. 59 
 
 lengthened interval while they walked up and 
 down along the shore. 
 
 If the Knight was able to give Brother Lorenzo, 
 whose family name was Tormado, information about 
 Spain, the monk made ample returns by informing 
 him as to the state of matters in America, about 
 which he was in search of accurate information, and 
 as to all the more recent voyages of discovery that 
 had been undertaken. He sketched to him Nunez de 
 Balboa's expedition over the Isthmus of Panama, in 
 which he had himself borne part, and described it 
 in such a lively and entertaining manner that Don 
 Diego was entirely carried away by the description. 
 He told him many particulars res23ecting the expe- 
 dition from Cuba, which had been organized under 
 Cortez, with which rumour had been busy, and which 
 now kept all men's minds in a state of very great 
 excitement. 
 
 Divers new particulars respecting this great 
 enterprise, which within the last few days he had 
 
60 THE FOUXTAIX OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 received from a friend at Cuba, lie promised to 
 communicate to the Knight, if the latter would meet 
 him at the same spot on the follo^ving evening 
 when the clock struck vespers, for it was now so 
 late that he must wish him good-night. 
 
 The new acquaintances then took leave of each 
 other, but Don Diego did not fail to meet the monk 
 on the shore on the foUowino; evenino^. Brother 
 Lorenzo, too, was himself at the appointed place, 
 and brought with him the letters which he had 
 promised, containing information as to Cortez and 
 the expedition to Mexico, in which the Knight was 
 greatly interested. He felt a strong desire to join 
 this famous expedition, which promised great 
 honour to those who took part in it ; and Brother 
 Lorenzo very cordially approved of his purpose. 
 They were, both soon deep in plans for its accom- 
 plishment, while they wandered slowly up and 
 down the shore, and often st023ped and looked out 
 over the moonlit sea. 
 
III.] THE DOMIXICAX MOXK. 61 
 
 The evening was so beautiful, Brother Lorenzo so 
 eloquent, and confidence after his recent bitter expe- 
 riences was so delio'htful to Don Dieo;o, that it was 
 with reoTct that he tore himself away from the 
 monk, who, on taking leave, invited him to 23ay a 
 visit to the Dominican Cloister, where he would 
 show him some rare flowers remarkable for their 
 hues and brilliancy. 
 
 On the foUowino; dav the Knioiit availed himself 
 of this invitation. Brother Lorenzo was most 
 obliging, and went about showing him everything in 
 the building and in the garden. He even appeared 
 to redouble his friendship the more Don Diego 
 opened his heart to him. On both sides they seemed 
 to draw nearer to each other under the influence of 
 their animated conversation, and their wandering's in' 
 the garden were not yet concluded when Brother 
 Lorenzo suddenly stopped and exclaimed : 
 
 " Li truth, I had not expected, at my time of life, 
 to form an acquaintance which I should so much 
 
62 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 prize. You are a man entirely after my OAvn heart — 
 the very reverse of those adventurers who swarm 
 here. The love of money is in your case entirely 
 subordinate to a praiseworthy desire of honour and 
 renown. You are j^robably a young, and indeed, if 
 I may judge from your appearance, an exceedingly 
 young man. But your experience is great — your 
 lano:uao:e and bearino; are altoo;ether those of a man 
 who has known the world, and it is with perfect 
 confidence that I folloAv my heart's inclination, and 
 oifer you brotherhood and friendship." 
 
 " I accept your offer with great pleasure," an- 
 swered the Knight, as he seized the hand extended 
 towards him. " I will not betray your friend- 
 ship, and assuredly the youth which you speak 
 of shall not prove a ground of separation between 
 us." 
 
 " One thing will hinder that," exclaimed the 
 monk, interrupting him, "and quickly fill up the 
 gap which years have placed between us, and that 
 
in.] THE DOMINICAN MONK. 63 
 
 is, perfect confidence — friendship's great pledge and 
 privilege." 
 
 " You shall have it," replied the Knight. " Why 
 should I not repay your confidence with open- 
 hearteclness, and make you acquainted with the 
 secret of my life '? You are a spiritual man. A 
 confession to you will lighten my heart, which is 
 often beset with doubts and anxieties." 
 
 He then led Brother Lorenzo to a bench placed 
 under a shady tree, and commenced his confession. 
 In brief and clear outlines he placed before him, 
 while the monk maintained a solemn silence, the 
 history of his youth and manhood — the life which 
 he had led in Spain as a warrior, a courtier, and the 
 father of a family — his journey to the New World — 
 and his expedition to Bimini, where he had exchanged 
 the form of an old for that of a young man in the 
 Fountain of Youth. 
 
 When he had finished, Brother Lorenzo raised his 
 head slowly, and said : 
 
64 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 '' These are wonderful things that you tell me. 
 Now I understand how it was that in my inter- 
 course with you, notwithstanding the difference in 
 our ages, I felt myself drawn towards you as an 
 equal. To my thanks for the confidence which you 
 have reposed in me, I must add a request that you 
 will commmiicate to me in writing what you have 
 told me by word of mouth, that I may meditate on 
 it in my solitude, gather the scattered features into a 
 perfect likeness of my friend, and recognise in his 
 destiny the wisdom of the great Director of human 
 affairs." 
 
 Don Diego promised to comply with his request, 
 and on the following day he transmitted to Brother 
 Lorenzo in a long letter a sketch of his life, with 
 the outlines of which he had recently made him 
 acquainted. He now awaited the answer and pro- 
 mised visit of his friend, in order that in concert 
 with him he might more closely examine the 
 contents of the letter. The answer, however, did 
 
HI.] THE DOMINICAN MONK. 60 
 
 not arrive, nor was Brother Lorenzo seen in his 
 dwellino;. 
 
 At length, after an interval of three days, when 
 the Knight was sitting alone at his table, his old 
 servant announced two spiritual messengers, who 
 had arrived from the Prior of the Dominican 
 Cloister. They handed in a summons addressed to 
 Don Diego de Herrera, who, according to its tenor, 
 was without delay to j^resent himself at the tribunal 
 of the Inquisition. 
 
 The messengers were attended by a military 
 escort, so that the Knight was obliged to comply at 
 once with the summons. He had hardly time to 
 say a couple of words, fh'st to set his old servant's 
 mind at rest, and to commission him to mention the 
 matter to Dona Inez, but not as a matter of any 
 moment, or as attended with danger. 
 
 The old servant discharged his errand, but as 
 he was ill able to conceal his own anxiety, he 
 threw Dona Inez, and, indeed, the entire house- 
 
 E 
 
66 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 hold, into a state of the greatest disquiet and con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Don Diego had, meanwhile, l3een conducted to the 
 prison of the Inquisition, where he was shortly 
 after^vards subjected to a preliminary inquiry. In 
 the course of it he learnt that he was accused of 
 sorcery, and that his letter to Brother Lorenzo was 
 not only the ground on which the summons was 
 issued, but constituted the main proof against him. 
 Very possibly a previous rumour, which shortly after 
 his return from Bimini had originated with his o^^ti 
 attendants, had given occasion to suspicion and to 
 Brother Lorenzo being set upon him as a questioner 
 and spy, but had it not been for his own written 
 confession the accusation would never have been 
 raised, and he would himself have had nothing to 
 fear. Now, however, there was no doubt how the 
 matter would end, unless he were able fully to con- 
 tradict not only the charge of sorcery, but the truth 
 of his own assertions. 
 
III.] THE DOMINICAN MONK. 67 
 
 With these mournful prospects, Don Diego left the 
 judgment hall, and was again led back to the dark 
 cell of the prison, where he had ample time to 
 ponder on his own want of discretion, and at the 
 same time on the falsehood and untrustworthiness of 
 men. Many days elapsed before his case again came 
 on for hearing, and probably a month had passed 
 since the period of his fii^st incarceration. 
 
 One evening, as he was sitting sorrowful and 
 bent forwards in his cell, he heard steps outside, and 
 in the midst of many voices a well-known voice, 
 which called on him by name, and demanded ad- 
 mission. The voice appeared to him to be that of 
 his old friend. Admiral Ponce de Leon, who must 
 therefore have returned from his expedition. 
 
 The Admiral immediately afterwards entered the 
 dungeon. The tm-nkey closed the door abruptly, 
 and promised that he would soon return with a 
 light. 
 
 " Are you here, Don Diego '? " whispered the 
 
 E 2 
 
68 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 Admiral on entering, while lie groped his way 
 forwards in the dark. "It is your friend Ponce de 
 Leon who is come to pay you a visit, and to save 
 you, if he can." 
 
 '' Be welcome, then," replied the Knight, from the 
 dark corner in which he was sitting. " You have 
 had good fortune with you on your journey. That 
 is more than I can say for myself. I obtained my 
 object, but lost my prize." 
 
 " It is, indeed, a sorrowful plight that I find you 
 in," answered his friend. " Both Destiny and 
 Kumour have dealt hardly with you since we sailed 
 away from you, and, through mistake, left you 
 behind us on the Island of Bimini. If one is to put 
 faith in lying rumours, you have practised sorcery on 
 the island, and have come back with an altered 
 form, on which the influence of witchcraft is but 
 too visible." 
 
 At this moment the turnkey entered with a light, 
 and set it on the table before the prisoner. 
 
HI.] THE DOMINICAT^ MONK. m 
 
 " Where is Don Diego '? " asked the Admiral, as 
 he looked around him in the prison. 
 
 " There he is, sir, right in front of you," replied 
 the turnkey, and again withdrew. 
 
 Ponce de Leon, dumb with astonishment, stared 
 on the Knight, and then exclaimed : 
 
 " Which shall I trust — my eyes or my ears '? 
 There is no one else in the dungeon. Speak, young 
 man ; are you then, in reality, my old friend Diego de 
 Herrera "i " 
 
 " Himself," replied the Knight ; " himself, the old 
 white-haired Diego, from whom you were separated 
 on the Avay to the enchanted fountain, where he 
 recovered his youth, but lost his happiness." 
 
 " Yes ; that is his voice ! " exclaimed the. Ad- 
 miral ; " that is, indeed, his voice ; and when I 
 think on our first meeting in Seville forty years ago, 
 to his outward form I am no stranger." 
 
 He seized his friend's hand, and added, with 
 emotion : 
 
70 THE FOUNTAIX OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 " If you have, indeed, practised sorcery, Diego, 
 we have all borne part in the transgression. We all 
 sought the enchanted fountain ; and the fact of your 
 having obtained the object is no aggravation of your 
 guilt. But raise yourself. The doom of death 
 hangs over you. If you are to be saved we have 
 not any time to lose. Quick ! throw this monk's 
 cowl over you. The guardian of the prison is in my 
 pay, and a ship which will bear you from these 
 shores lies ready to set sail at a moment's notice. 
 All is arranged. Here are letters of recommendation 
 for Cuba, or for any other place to which Fortune 
 may carry you. I will myself inform your family 
 of your departure, and carry your farewell to your 
 wife and children. Come I what shall I call you 1 
 Spirit, or man '? How wonderful appears the 
 change when I hold the light up to your face. In 
 spite of the bloom of youth in your asj)ect, and our 
 long acquaintance, I could readily be angry with 
 you. You seem to be in truth an apparition, no 
 
in.] THE DOMIXICAX MOXK. 71 
 
 longer suited for the society of your ancient friends 
 and former acquaintances. Come, follow me, but in 
 strict silence." 
 
 Here the Admiral gave the jailer, who was 
 waiting outside, a sign, and put out the light. The 
 door was opened softly, and the Knight was con- 
 ducted through a number of dark and winding pas- 
 sages out of the buildings belonging to the prison, 
 and down to the ship, where Ponce de Leon, 
 with some inward alarm and misgivings, received 
 his last embrace and shake of the hand, and a 
 moment afterwards, with a lighter heart, saw the 
 ship under a fresh breeze leave the harbour and the 
 island. 
 
 AVhen the morning sun broke forth the ship was 
 sailing in the open sea. With youtlifid form and 
 plume waving over his brown hair, Don Diego, 
 enveloped in his cloak, was walking to and fro on 
 the deck of the ship. He frequently cast a look 
 back in the direction of Santo Domingo, and when 
 
72 TUE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [ohap. hi. 
 
 neither town nor island were any longer in sight he 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Now might I say with Csesar, ' The die is cast/ 
 My whole life lies iDehmd me. I have now bid 
 adieu to the Diego of other days, with his wife and 
 children, relatives and friends, and I go out again as 
 a young man into the world to seek the fortune that 
 eludes my grasp. If my home and its affections are 
 closed against me — if I am no longer suited to the 
 friends and companions of other days, whether 
 young or old, I have still my own existence — still 
 the hope which beckons and invites me forwards — 
 the trusting courage, the experience which I have 
 won, my strong arm, and, in addition, my lost and 
 recovered youth. Forward, Diego, forward ! The 
 long interval of time which lies before you will be 
 filled up. It speaks of great achievements and of 
 l)rilliant deeds ; of honour's prize, the wreath of 
 victory, the crown of bliss ! " 
 
THE 
 
 POUNTAIX OP YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTEE lY. 
 
 Don Diego arrives at Cuba and Vera Cruz — He serves under Cortez- 
 The beautiful Dorothea— The Battle— The Arrest of Don Diego- 
 The Fall of Mexico. 
 
CHAPTER lY. 
 
 which 
 From 
 
 /,/ MID such remarks and re- 
 flections time passed rapidly, 
 and, as the wind was favour- 
 able, our hero very soon 
 reached the island of Cuba. 
 After a few days' sojourn 
 here, he continued his voy- 
 age farther to New Spain 
 and Vera Cruz, a town 
 
 had been newly founded on the continent. 
 
 Vera Cruz he travelled overland with a 
 
76 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 detachment of recruits to join the army before 
 Mexico, the capital of the country which Cortez 
 was then besieging. His journey through that 
 far-stretching fruitful land — rich* as it was in great 
 and flourishing towns — had already filled him with 
 astonishment ; but his spirits Avere raised to a far 
 higher pitch when, on passing the mountains after a 
 few days' march, he saw in the middle of the jDlain, 
 reflected in the crystal lake, the capital with its 
 long dams, its numberless white houses, its temples, 
 and its towers. He went at once to the camp at 
 the end of the chief dam, where Cortez had pitched 
 his tent. There all was in commotion, as the 
 Spaniards, assisted by the auxiliary native troops, 
 had just then completed their arrangements for 
 attacking the town from the lake and by land. 
 
 On being announced to Cortez as a fellow-coun- 
 tryman and volunteer, Don Diego was received with 
 cordiality by the great commander. Cortez made 
 inquiries as to his wishes, his relatives, and his 
 
IV.] EVENTS IX MEXICO. 77 
 
 earlier services in America. On hearing that he 
 was an acquaintance of Ponce de Leon, Cortez 
 exclaimed : 
 
 "That alone is a sufficient recommendation. If 
 you have served under that man, you will not here 
 desert your standard. You shall have a place where 
 there is honour to be won. Were you older I would 
 give you an independent command ; as it is, I must 
 place you as the youngest officer under Gonzalo de 
 Castro, an al^le soldier, but as hard as a flint. Take 
 care not to play with the steel, lest the flint should 
 throw out sparks. Here is your appointment, and 
 you must announce yourself as ready for ser\dce 
 without loss of time, as we shall soon have occasion 
 to use your sword." 
 
 Don Diego, though disappointed in his hopes, was 
 careful not to appeal in self-commendation to his 
 knighthood, or to his earlier services as a soldier in 
 Spain. Here, where he had no acquaintances, his 
 past must be laid aside and forgotten, in order 
 
78 THE FOUXTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 that his old life might not, as heretofore, destroy 
 that on which he was about to enter. 
 
 As soon as he had taken leave of Cortez he went 
 immediately to Don Gonzalo's tent. Gonzalo was 
 not at home, but his daughter Dorothea received the 
 Knio'ht, and did the honours on behalf of her 
 father. She was a young and extremely beautiful 
 oirl, who, partly from necessity, and partly from 
 love of adventure, had followed her father to the 
 camp, half as page, and half as mistress of his tent 
 and household. She was clad in a brown soldier's 
 frock, buttoned close to the body. In her leathern 
 belt there was a dagger. The collar of her habit 
 w^as tm^ned down, and over it her dark and curly 
 locks fell freely. It was a dress which, with all its 
 simplicity, was weU fitted to display her slender 
 ficnire, round breast, and upright bearing. The 
 colour of her cheeks was red, slightly tinged with 
 brown ; her eyes were large and brilliant, and over 
 them were seen the free and bold arches of her dark 
 
V'/y/'^'^hi? 
 
 DON DIKGO ME'CTS DOROTHKA IN IIKR FA! IIKK'S TKXT. I'iUH' 78. 
 
IT.] EVENTS IN MEXICO. 79 
 
 and beautiful eyebrows. Her whole appearance in- 
 dicated goodness, fearlessness, and a youthful elas- 
 ticity of spirits. 
 
 When she opened the door to the Knight, and, on 
 seeing the young warrior with whom she was pre- 
 viously unacquainted, first started, and then laid her 
 hand on her dagger, she resembled at one and the 
 same moment an enchanting fahy and a threatening 
 amazon. Her haughty aspect soon changed into 
 an air of friendliness. She begged the Knight 
 to come into the cabin, and there await her father's 
 return. 
 
 Don Diego accepted the invitation, and they were 
 soon sitting opposite each other, and engaged in 
 lively conversation. Dorothea made him acquainted 
 with many particulars concerning Cortez and his 
 warriors, and the manner in which the Mexicans and 
 native troops fought. She described to him her own 
 life in the camp, surrounded by all these soldiers and 
 sutlers, many of whom were ver}^ hard upon her as 
 
80 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [cHAr. 
 
 one who trenched upon their j)rivileges. " But/' 
 she added, laughingly, " I trouble myself as little 
 about them as I did about the anger of the harper 
 who could not endure my playing on my mando- 
 line in the evening before my father and his 
 friends." 
 
 She then took the instrument down from the 
 shelf, and her hand passed lightly over the strings. 
 
 " Are you fond of music 1 " said she to the 
 Kniofht, lookino^ towards him. " You shall hear a 
 Mexican war-song ! You will then be prepared for 
 its wild and peculiar tones when you come to hear 
 them in the battle." 
 
 Dorothea sang the war-song with spirit and ani- 
 mation. She accompanied the song with appro- 
 priate and threatening gestures, in order the more 
 effectually to strike terror into the imaginary foe. 
 
 The Knight was delighted with her delivery, and 
 with the song. She had hardly concluded it when 
 Don Gonzalo, a tall, dark man, with sharp features, 
 
IV.] EVENTS IN MEXICO, 81 
 
 and hair that was turning gray, entered the tent, 
 accompanied by two other officers. 
 
 Don Diego rose and saluted them, and told them 
 his name and his errand ; whereupon Don Gonzalo, 
 after having received his commission, bade him wel- 
 come to his tent as comrade in arms. Then, turning 
 to his daughter, " I verily believe," said he, " that 
 you have already begun to entertain our fellow- 
 countryman with your songs and music. Make 
 better use of your time. Lay down your mandoline 
 and think of the table." 
 
 Dorothea went out, and her father, turning 
 towards the Knio-ht, continued : 
 
 " You are, no doubt, surprised to see a young girl 
 here in my tent, and to see her, moreover, in the 
 dress of a soldier. The latter is her own invention, 
 but as an officer in commission, I was obliged to 
 bring my only child with me into the field, as in 
 Cuba she has not any mother or relatives living. 
 And now, gentlemen, let us proceed to business. 
 
 F 
 
82 THB FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 Our new companion-in-arms has made his appear- 
 ance in the nick of time." 
 
 He then invited the Knight and the other officers 
 to be seated, and communicated to them the plan 
 recently formed for an attack on the town, which 
 was to be made on the following day. The troops 
 which he himself commanded were to occupy and 
 defend a dam, on the maintenance of which post the 
 issue of the attack would at all events in part de- 
 pend. As commander he instructed his subordinates 
 as to the dispositions which had been made, and as 
 to the manner in which they were to be carried out. 
 
 The other officers bowed, and expressed their full 
 concurrence. Don Diego, however, whose long 
 military experience came to his aid, expressed some 
 doubt as regarded the propriety of two parts of the 
 plan ; and defended his opinion, which differed from 
 that of the others, with great force and earnestness. 
 The officers gave way, not without embarrassment, 
 while Don Gonzalo's mien grew darker and darker. 
 
IV.] EVENTS IN MEXICO. 83 
 
 At length, when the Knight had finished speaking, 
 he exclaimed : 
 
 " Young man, you are the youngest among us,, and 
 yet you Avould fain know most. You pretend to 
 know best how matters stand ; yet it was but yes- 
 terday that you made your appearance in the camp. 
 Did you gather all the wisdom that you possess 
 among the naked Indians in Hispaniola 1 Here, in 
 New Spain, we maintain good discipline. The chick 
 is never allowed to lecture the hen. These will 
 suffice as your preliminary instructions. As regards 
 the fight to-morrow, you know my will — obey my 
 orders." 
 
 With these words Don Gonzalo rose from his seat, 
 and our hero, who remembered what Cortez had said 
 to him, remained silent. The other officers sought to 
 set conversation going, but did not succeed until the 
 fair Dorothea rejoined them, covered the table, and 
 set out the dishes. During the meal Don Gonzalo's 
 forehead by degrees relaxed, the wine rendered him 
 
 F 2 
 
84 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 cheerful, and even disposed to conciliation. The 
 cloth was hardly removed from the table before he 
 summoned his daughter to sing and play, in order to 
 please their new guest, and to put them all into good 
 spirits for the battle on the morrow. 
 
 Dorothea complied with the request, took her seat 
 in the midst of them, and sang with animation and 
 earnestness a number of romances composed during 
 the war with the Moors, all expressing deep and 
 stirring enthusiasm for faith and fatherland. 
 
 Don Diego listened with delight. Some of these 
 songs were known to him from the circumstance that 
 he had himself borne part in the war. Whenever the 
 fair songstress had finished a romance, he asked for a 
 new one, and inquired whether she remembered this 
 one and that one, which he hummed for her, and it 
 almost always happened that she was at once able 
 to hit upon the tune. 
 
 It was evident that she felt herself flattered and 
 pleased at the sympathy which was shown towards 
 
IV.] EVENTS IX MEXICO. 85 
 
 her by their new guest She frequently turned 
 while singing with a glance of fire towards Don 
 Diego, but if it happened that her eye met his, she 
 blushed and seized the strings with greater earnest- 
 ness. Her father was not the least enthusiastic of 
 her hearers. He was 2)i'ond of his daughter, of her 
 beauty and her talent. The pleasure with which 
 he listened to her tunes was not only evident in 
 the air of satisfaction with which he listened, but 
 frequently found expression in an animated and 
 triumphant " Bravo ! bravo ! " 
 
 In this way the evening passed peacefully and 
 pleasantly. Don Gonzalo himself conducted the 
 Knight to his couch in the side tent, and bade him 
 good-night. It was, in truth, a good night for our 
 hero — the best he had enjoyed for a long time. His 
 sleep was refreshing, and the dreams of his earlier 
 years hovered gently round him, the result, perhaps, 
 of the songs which he had heard sung, with so much 
 animation, in the evening. He rose refreshed at an 
 
86 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 early hour in the morning, and buckled on his arms. 
 To-day, then, he should again put to the proof those 
 arms, that sword, which he had last wielded against 
 the Moors in the presence of his illustrious Queen. 
 How long since was it ? Yet he felt his arm as 
 strong, his courage as high as formerly. His only 
 sorrow was that he must serve as the youngest 
 officer — he who, according to his age and know- 
 ledge, should have been the leader. 
 
 Meanwhile he arrived first at the place of ren- 
 dezvous, and moved forward, eager for the fight, 
 towards the dam, at the head of his few soldiers, 
 until about midway on the dam he was overtaken 
 by a large division of troops, which was led by Don 
 Gonzalo and the rest of the officers. At this spot 
 the foe, a few days since, in an attack, had so 
 damaged the barrier that the water had broken 
 through it. The opening had not been filled up, and 
 nothing had been done except that a small bridge 
 made of beams had been tlirown over the gap. 
 
IV.] EVENTS IN MEXICO. 87 
 
 Don Gonzalo led his troops and artillery over the 
 bridge, and gave his commands as to the storming 
 of the to^\Ti, which was to take place when the foe 
 made his appearance. The enemy were not only 
 to be driven back — they Avere to be pm'sued into 
 the toAvn as far as the Great Temple, where the 
 Spaniards and the native auxiliary troops who 
 had broken over the dams by different routes 
 were to unite for the main attack on the fortified 
 Temple, upon which the standard of Mexico was 
 waving. 
 
 At the passage of the bridge, Don Diego and his 
 little troop had remained as rearguard. He could 
 not resist the opportunity for again endeavouring to 
 fix the attention of his coromander on this dangerous 
 point, which had been the chief matter in dispute 
 between them on the previous day. One cannon at 
 least, with men to work it, should be left behind at 
 the gap, in order to cover the retreat if any mis- 
 fortune should befall them. At this point, if the 
 
88 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 troops retreated, they would, in Don Diego's opinion, 
 be utterly lost. 
 
 " Talk not to me ! " exclaimed Gonzalo, knitting 
 his thick eyebrows, and looking sternly at the 
 Knight. " Talk not to me of such things as flight 
 and retreat. It is here a question of \dctor}^ or 
 death. Let there be no secmity for cowards. For- 
 ward ! Hear ye not the war-cry ? " 
 
 With these words Don Gonzalo hastened forwards 
 at the head of his soldiers. The column advanced, 
 and at the other end of the rampart large masses of 
 Mexicans were now distinctly ^dsible. They broke 
 forth uttering loud war-cries to the sound of their 
 huge drums. Don Diego waved his sword as a sign 
 for his little company to follow the main troop, 
 which abeady, in quick advance, had thro^^Ti itself 
 with loud shouts over the dam. But just as he 
 raised his foot the conviction rushed anew into his 
 mind, and with irresistible force, that the Spaniards 
 were lost if he did not maintain his position. His 
 
DOX DIEGO DISrUTES WITH DOX GOXZALO. 
 
 page 88. 
 
IV.] EVEN^ ' IN MEXICO. 89 
 
 sword sank in his hand. — his foot seemed to be 
 nailed to the ground. He could but utter one word, 
 " Halt ! " 
 
 His men looked at him in amazement. " Halt ! " 
 he cried again with a weak voice ; " here is our place." 
 
 At this moment the fight commenced. The rattle 
 of the musketry and the roar of the artillery were 
 audible, but they were almost drowned in the war- 
 cries of the Mexicans. The fight grew hotter and 
 hotter. The masses rolled in and out, backwards 
 and forwards, but at length the Spanish soldiers 
 were compelled to yield to the number of their 
 antagonists. 
 
 Don Dieg:o witnessed the fioiit from a distance with 
 deep emotion, until the ranks were broken and the 
 Spaniards took to flight. He did all in his power 
 to insure for his countrymen a safe retreat over the 
 bridge, but he saw that it was utterly imj^ossible for 
 him without the aid of artillery to stop the pursuit. 
 He and his men took up their position with lances 
 
90 THE FOUNTAIN OF TOUTF. [chap. 
 
 in rest before the gap in the dam. The rout, how- 
 ever, was so complete, and the pursuit so violent, 
 that he and his men w^ere thrown back as if by a 
 storm, and forced into the water, w^here some of 
 them perished, while he and others saved them- 
 selves by swimming to the opposite side. 
 
 A portion only of the Spaniards, and among them 
 Don Gonzalo, succeeded in passing the bridge, which 
 would without doubt have been taken by the foe 
 had not Cortez himself come at the moment with a. 
 supply of fresh troops to their relief. His prudence 
 and his firnmess stayed the desolating progress of 
 the enemy. The Mexicans faced about with wild 
 shrieks and shouts of triumph, carrying off their 
 booty and the prisoners, who were destined as offer- 
 ing for their gods. 
 
 The Spaniards could now for the first time per- 
 ceive the magnitude of their loss. The number of 
 those who had been killed or taken prisoners was 
 considerable. Three cannons had been lost, and 
 
IV.] EVENTS IN MEXICO. 91 
 
 Don Gonzalo could offer no excuse for the result 
 beyond the disobedience of his new officer, whose 
 absence from the battle at the decisive moment had, 
 he asserted, been the cause of the disaster. 
 
 Don Diego on his side alleged the necessity of 
 covering the bridge and protecting the retreat, in 
 which Cortez could not but agree with him. When, 
 however, he appealed to his long military experience, 
 the general cut him short by saying : "No doubt 
 your maidenly cheeks and beardless chin bear 
 witness to long military experience ; but you have 
 disobeyed the command of your superior officer. A 
 great misfortune has befallen us, and the Council of 
 War must judge between you. Give your sword to 
 my attendant, and consider yourself as under arrest 
 on parole." 
 
 The Knight Avas thus deprived anew of his free- 
 dom, and thus lost at the same time the opportunity 
 of participating in the struggles of the following 
 day, which were to decide the fate of Mexico^ 
 
92 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 While under arrest he might muse over the new 
 misfortune which had pursued and overtaken him. 
 One of the principal reasons for it was his apparent 
 youth, which would at all times hinder him from 
 obtaining a high command, which again was the 
 condition of independent action and purpose. What 
 chiefly occupied his thoughts was the new experience 
 which he had derived with reference to his own 
 internal state. In the very moment when, at the 
 dam, he had received his commander's order to 
 move forwards, and had raised his foot in order to 
 obey the command, he had experienced the most 
 wonderful internal sensation, which suddenly para- 
 lysed all movement. It was not merely his con- 
 viction of the necessity of covering the bridge 
 which at that time held him back, and seemed, as it 
 were, to nail his foot to the ground. He had felt an 
 internal division of will irresistibly prevailing over 
 him. He felt at the moment just as if he were 
 made up of two antagonistic persons — the one light 
 
TV.] EVENTS IX MEXICO. 93 
 
 and flighty, the other thoughtful and meditative — 
 the one full of fire and impetuous, the other cold 
 and calculating — the one craving and eager, the 
 other evasive and yielding. The consequence of 
 this was a paralysis of will and a complete aban- 
 donment of action. To what could he ascribe this 
 marvellous state of mind, which he had never before 
 experienced, and which, if it continued, must anni- 
 hilate every purpose ? He himself was not able to 
 solve this riddle. Depressed and unhappy, he threw 
 himself on the ground, with upbraidings on his 
 destiny. Then suddenly he heard in the side tent 
 close by consolatory tones and stirring music. It 
 was the fair Dorothea who made herself heard. She 
 had learnt with deep pain what had occurred, and 
 in this manner made both her father and his adver- 
 sary acquainted with her sympathy. She felt deep 
 compassion for this young man wdio had so very 
 recently arrived at the camp, and had now become, 
 as it were, a thing entirely despised and rejected. 
 
94 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 But it was not on this evening only that she gave 
 her pent-up feelings play, and solaced her new 
 friend with music. Each day brought new 
 proofs of her compassion — each day she repeated at 
 fixed times her music and song, so that tones soon 
 became a living messenger between them, flying 
 backwards and forwards with question and reply. 
 
 The Knight on his part was anything but idle. 
 From his guard he had borrowed an old lute, whose 
 strings he made the interpreters of his thanks and 
 feelings. By means of this instrument he renewed 
 his acquaintance with the art of the Troubadom*, 
 which, although familiar with it in youth, of late 
 years he had half forgotten. 
 
 In this way many weeks passed, and Don Diego 
 had not yet been called on by the military tribunal 
 to defend himself and to learn his doom. 
 
 Cortez and his soldiers had been far too much 
 taken up with their great object, the conquest of 
 the capital, to occupy themselves with a matter 
 
IV.] EVENTS IN MEXICO. 95 
 
 of sucli trifling moment. At length they had ob- 
 tained their object after bloody struggles. Mexico 
 had fallen — the King had fled, and had been 
 taken prisoner — the Spaniard had established his 
 dominion. 
 
 Cortez now first summoned the Knight before 
 him ; vet not for defence and judgment, but in 
 order to inform him that the matter should not be 
 carried further. His adversary Gonzalo de Castro 
 had given j)roof of such distinguished capacity and 
 courage in the recent battles, and more particularly 
 at the conquest of the caj^ital, that his earlier mis- 
 take must be looked upon as blotted out. As far 
 as the Knight himself was concerned, the General 
 did not contemplate making an example of him. 
 His disobedience might perhaps be excused by the 
 state of affairs, and there were too few officers in 
 the army for any one to be dismissed, except in case 
 of extreme necessity. 
 
 Mexico no doubt was conquered, but many of 
 
96 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 the provinces were still in the hands of the foe. It 
 had been determined to send out detachments in 
 many directions, in order to put down opposition, 
 and bring the native races into submission. 
 
 Don Diego had been himself selected to bear part 
 in an expedition of this character, and to serve as 
 second in command. As the expedition, however, 
 was to take place under the auspices of his ancient 
 chief, Don Gonzalo, Cortez felt compelled to warn 
 him that he must observe the strictest discipline, and 
 treat Don Gonzalo with that respect which youth 
 was bound to show to ao^e. With this admonition 
 
 o 
 
 Cortez o^ave back to the Knio-ht his sword and his 
 liberty, and Don Diego withdrew, though not with- 
 out some bitterness of feeling. He had been ex- 
 cluded from all share in the great achievements 
 which had taken place, and was now to be made use 
 of in a ser^dce in which a man might possibly win 
 money but not honour, and in which he must 
 submit entirely to the will of a stranger and an 
 
IV.] EVENTS IN MEXICO. J>7 
 
 opponent. Meanwhile lie determined to adapt him- 
 self to circumstances, in order not to forfeit all 
 prospects of advancement in future. 
 
 He announced himself on the same day to his 
 chief, by whom he was received with greater cour- 
 tesy than he had anticipated. It seemed pro- 
 bable that Don Gonzalo had been influenced by 
 Cortez, and wished that the old quarrel should be 
 forgotten. He entii'cly suppressed the resentment 
 that he internally felt, made the Knight acquainted 
 with his plans with regard to the forthcoming ex- 
 pedition, and informed him that the camp would be 
 broken up on the following day. On taking leave 
 he held out his hand and said : 
 
 " You will see, my young friend, that we shall have 
 a satisfactory campaign. By the sword we shall win 
 the heathen's gold. Brother Francisco shall redeem 
 your soul, and in the tent my daughter Dorothea 
 shall provide both maintenance and recreation." 
 
THE 
 
 FOUNTAIN OP YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 The March through the Countnj — Brother Francisco — The Death 
 Festival — Don Diego is again placed under Arrest— His Flight 
 with Dorothea. 
 
 g2 
 
CHAPTEE Y. 
 
 T is not the intention of the 
 I" author to trace for the 
 reader, step by step, our 
 hero's march through Mexico's 
 northern provinces. Whoever 
 lesires more detailed in- 
 formation may find it in the 
 contemporary military annals 
 of Spain. It may be ob- 
 served, however, that the march in no respects 
 differed from those occurring in many similar 
 
102 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 expeditions which took place then and at a later 
 period. The soldiers marched through the land, 
 robbed the inhabitants of their treasures, called on 
 their chiefs or Caziques to do homage to the king 
 of Spain, while at the same time the fanatical 
 monks who led the troops plied their arts of 
 persuasion to redeem lost souls. 
 
 These matters were seldom arranged without 
 bloodshed and the use of the stake, on which 
 Caziques who defied the conqueror's authority, and 
 obstinate heathens, received their punishment. Don 
 Diego witnessed these proceedings with aversion and 
 with indignation. His chief, on the contrary, in 
 matters of faith, allowed Brother Francisco to have 
 entirely his own way, and only reserved to himself the 
 functions of judge in military matters, and the right 
 of extortion and exaction as against the natives. 
 
 Enormous plunder was obtained, which, when a 
 part had been set aside for the Crown, was divided 
 between men and officers. 
 
v.] THE DEATH FESTIVAL. 103 
 
 111 making this division, the chief acted with rare 
 uprightness, and made it a point of honour so to do. 
 Don Div^go's share was speedily increased to such an 
 extent, that his wealth was beginning to be a charge 
 and a burthen to him. 
 
 In other respects, the habit of li^dng together in 
 daily intercourse produced no change in the bearing 
 of the two commanders towards one another. The 
 Knight continued cold, courteous, and chary of 
 words as before. Don Gonzalo's condescension had 
 again returned to the cold and haughty bearing 
 which found expression in the curt, sharp language 
 of command. The only point on which they were at 
 one was in the pleasure which they both of them 
 derived from the presence of the beautiful Dorothea, 
 as well as from her conversation and songs. She 
 was, in truth, the good spirit of the tent, and always 
 knew how to restore peace when sharp or bitter 
 words or casual incident had banished it. 
 
 Having passed a river and a low mountainous 
 
lOi THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 ridge, the troops, after a march of many weeks, had 
 forced their way to a hilly and populous tract, in 
 which the native chiefs offered a long and obstinate 
 resistance to the Spaniards, which ended, in the 
 usual manner, with the captivity of the Caziques, 
 and the conversion, by force of arms, of the inhabi- 
 tants. On this occasion. Brother Francisco and Don 
 Gonzalo resolved on making a signal example that 
 should strike terror into the neighbourinfr tribes. A 
 high pile was raised, and more than a hundred of 
 the most illustrious of the natives were forced to 
 mount it, in order that they might be pm-ified by 
 fire, and expiate, by the penalty of death, the de- 
 fiance which they had offered to the invader. 
 
 Don Diego had taken part in the preparations for 
 this death-festival with deep feelings of internal 
 sorrow. It seemed to him to be even more dis- 
 gusting than the auto-da-fes he had witnessed in his 
 youth. The remembrance of these frequently even 
 now filled him with horror in his waking and his 
 
v.] THE DEATH FESTIVAL. 105 
 
 dreaming hours. On the present occasion he had been 
 compelled by the orders of his commanding ofl&cer to 
 cause the victims to be seized and carried to the pile, 
 as a preliminary to their being bound to stakes. In 
 a state of deep internal commotion he returned to 
 the tent to announce that everything had been 
 arranged according to order. 
 
 "No !" exclaimed the Knight, talking to himself, 
 " it was not in this manner that I contemplated the 
 dedication of my new life to the honoiu^ of God and 
 the Church. It was not the hangman's work that 
 I desired ! Not the sighs and curses of tlie tortured 
 that I wished to draw down on my own head." 
 
 He represented energetically to his chief the 
 umighteous and ungodly character of the sentences 
 passed ; attacked him first with prayers, and when 
 these proved unavailing, with violent upbraidings, 
 in order to procm^e for the unfortunate victims a 
 remission of punishment. At last, on finding 
 himself repulsed with ^dolence, he declared that 
 
106 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 he would take no part in the execution of the 
 sentences. 
 
 " How, now '? " replied Don Gonzalo. " Do you 
 again refuse to obey me ? Think well over it, 
 young man. Eemember that your punishment still 
 remains to be inflicted, and that you are in my 
 power." 
 
 The expression of Don Gonzalo's countenance as 
 he uttered these words was dark and threatening. He 
 ordered the Knight to follow him instantly, and they 
 both went together to the place of judgment, where 
 soldiers with muskets heavily loaded were in jDosition 
 in front of the pile. The flames had not yet been 
 applied to it, but monks were already intoning 
 hymns, in order to prepare the souls of the victims 
 for the ordeal of fire which they were shortly to 
 undergo. 
 
 Don Gonzalo snatched a lighted brand from the 
 hand of the Provost-Marshal, and gave it to the 
 Knight, who received it as if half lost in thought, 
 
^ 
 
 ,^. 
 
 
 DON DIEGO REFUSES TO LIGHT THE FVNHRAL PILE. page 106. 
 
v.] THE DEATH FESTIVAL. 107 
 
 Avliile with bowed lieacl he looked on the ground 
 before him. 
 
 " Don Diew," exclaimed the commander in a loud 
 voice, while his looks passed round among those 
 present, " I hand you this torch that you may light 
 the pile, and vindicate as a minister of justice the 
 honom- of your God and King." 
 
 Don Die^ro raised his forehead, and stared at him 
 in silence. 
 
 " Do your duty," resumed the chief, " or death 
 awaits you ! " 
 
 All eyes were fastened on the Knight, who stood 
 trembling and irresolute, as if half unconcerned 
 at what was passing. xVt length he cbew a deep 
 sigh, let the torch fall to the ground, and hid his 
 eyes and forehead in his hands. For a time he 
 remained motionless in this position, until, by 
 command of Don Gonzalo, he was led away under 
 arrest. The pile was then set fire to by the hand of 
 the Provost-Marshal, and the execution proceeded, 
 
108 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 accompanied by the usual religious and military 
 ceremonies. 
 
 What passed in Don Diego's heart while the 
 events were taking place which we have just re- 
 ferred to '? This was the question which occupied 
 his thou splits when he found himself a short time 
 afterwards in a dark pit, alone and in bonds, listen- 
 ing in the silence of his prison to the measured tread 
 of the sentinel outside. 
 
 With deep internal emotion he fixed his thoughts 
 on himself and on the mental condition in which he 
 had recently found himself. Eemembering how 
 Cortez had set free the Mexican chieftain when he 
 was already laid on the embers, he had at first re- 
 solved to lay the burning torch at his commander's 
 feet, and to bid the soldiers, in the king's name, tear 
 down the pile, break the victims' bonds, and set them 
 free. He had found it, however, quite impossible to 
 carry his purpose into execution. Just as his hand 
 raised the torch, he had found himself again under 
 
v.] THE DEATH FESTIVAL. l<>i> 
 
 the influence of that two-fold will and being, 
 that feeling, as it were, of two contending and 
 antagonistic natures, in the struggles of which he 
 seemed to be deprived of his individuality and 
 powers of action. He had been just as little able 
 to execute his pm^pose on the present occasion as 
 he had been during the conflict at the dam. The 
 torch had fallen from his hand, speech had died 
 away on his lips, his internal personal life was 
 paralysed, and he could do nothing but abandon 
 himself to his fate. 
 
 It was not without a secret shudder that Don 
 Diego reflected on this strange state of mind, this 
 internal want of harmony which had again disclosed 
 itself and made him seem almost a stranger to him- 
 self. Was it, as might be the case, perhaps, his bath 
 in the Fountain of Youth which had effected this 
 division in his nature — this strife of feeling and 
 of will, w^hich rendered him powerless for action ? 
 He durst not think more on the matter. It might 
 
110 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 deprive a man of his reason to know that he was 
 suffering from a kind of moral paralysis. 
 
 After an effort, he turned his thoughts in another 
 direction. He saw before him all the consequences 
 which must result from his own insubordination, 
 and from the hateful and revengeful spirit of his 
 commander. These images and prospects were not 
 bright or cheering, and yet the thoughts which 
 they brought with them were very far indeed from 
 being so jDainful as those which he had just now put . 
 aside. He felt his heart lightened, laid himself down 
 on his hard bed, and fell shortly afterwards into a 
 deep sleep. From this he did not wake till midnight, 
 when a figure stood before him with a lamp in its 
 hand. On opening his eyes, he recognised Dorothea, 
 who was dressed in a travelling costume. 
 
 " Eise up, Don Diego ! " she exclaimed, in accents 
 tremulous and hurried. "Take this, cut the ropes 
 which bind you, and follow me. Your life is at 
 stake. If you remain, the morrow will not find you 
 
iHiS lilKGO AM) I)OI:OTHI:a KSCA.PK. 
 
 'p(l(li' 111. 
 
v.] THE DEATH FESTIVAL. Ill 
 
 ill tlie land of the Imng. I know tliat from one who 
 has your life in his power. If you trust me, follow 
 me without delay. While you are at my side not a 
 hair of your head shall be injured." 
 
 "I do indeed place confidence in you," replied 
 the Knight, while he rose and cut asunder the ropes 
 which bound him. 
 
 He followed her into the clear light of the 
 moon ; the sentry had vanished, and a native, 
 with two horses saddled and ready to start, awaited 
 them. 
 
 " Here stands our guide," said Dorothea, pointing 
 to the Indian. " He knows the ways and byways, 
 and will not fail to guide us safely through the 
 country." 
 
 " How, then, Dorothea," exclaimed the Knight ; 
 *' you follow me *? You leave your father '? ' 
 
 " My father," she answered, in a tone of deep and 
 solemn earnestness, " has condemned you to die. He 
 has paid no attention to my tears or supplications. 
 
112 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 I have made my choice between yourself and him. 
 You will not leave me in a difficulty 1 " 
 
 " Never," replied the Knight. 
 
 " Well, then," said she, " set your foot in the 
 stirrup, and to horse. Your knapsack is packed, 
 your treasures are on the horse's back." 
 
 With these words, Dorothea threw herself lightly 
 into the saddle, and Don Diego followed her example. 
 They rode off at a quick pace. The Indian ran by 
 the side of the lady's horse, which he held tight by 
 a thin rein, and, though on foot, kept pace with the 
 liorse without any difficulty. In this vfay their 
 flight proceeded for many hours, till in the gray 
 dawn of morning they reached a palm wood, where 
 they indulged in a brief interval of rest. Dorothea 
 and the Knight were silent. Both seemed to be 
 entirely taken up with their own reflections. Their 
 guide kept a very sharp look-out over the plain, and 
 did not leave his post till they were seated again in 
 the saddle. They then continued their journey till 
 
V.J THE DEATH FESTIVAL. ^13 
 
 darkness overtook them. The hut of an Indian gave 
 them shelter for the night. By sunrise they were 
 again on horseback, and were passing through a vast 
 wooded and hilly district, moving forwards in an 
 easterly direction. 
 
 The Indian, in his capacity of guide, appeared to 
 find his way instinctively, and only on rare occasions 
 turned aside to one or other of the distant huts to 
 procure information as to the road which they were 
 to follow. 
 
 In this way their journey was continued for many 
 days. At night they took shelter in the huts of the 
 Aborigines, and in the heat of noon under a shady 
 tree. The highlands were now behind them, and 
 they were approaching the coast and the sea. Here 
 their skilful guide took an entirely opposite direction, 
 so that they had an almost uninterrupted view of the 
 sea during the remainder of their journey. 
 
 H 
 
THE 
 
 FOUNTAIN OP YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 They arrive at Vera Cruz — The Confession and A^ypeal of Dorothea. 
 
 h2 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 FTEE a few days' riding, 
 and a variety of adven- 
 tures, with the details of 
 vrhich it is not Avorth while 
 to encumber the narrative, 
 they at last reached the 
 colony of Vera Cruz. Here 
 they found many Spanish 
 ships in the harbour, and 
 here, too, their trusty guide took leave of them. 
 The day after his arrival at Vera Cruz, Don Diego 
 
118 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 was sitting in a very adventurous mood in the veran- 
 dah at the Spanish hostehry, and looking out over the 
 garden, the lake, and the ships. His long and confiden- 
 tial intercourse with Dorothea., with whom during his 
 journey he had shared exposure to sun and wind, 
 and the vicissitudes of good and evil, had thrown 
 into his thoughts a warmth to which he was un- 
 accustomed. His imagination conjured up inces- 
 santly the image of the fair brave girl who had 
 given ujD everything for his sake, and set at nought 
 both toils and dangers. 
 
 While he sat in this half-dreamy state, immersed 
 in recollections, he saw at a distance the figure of a 
 female, who, holding a j^arasol before her face, ad- 
 vanced along the pathway of the garden. From the 
 slender figure and light step, he judged that the 
 person must be a young girl, and the nearer the 
 figure came, the more familiar did it appear to him. 
 The young giii came up to the terrace opposite the 
 verandah, and while passing the Knight, turned her 
 
VI.] FLIGHT WITH DOROTHEA. 119 
 
 parasol aside and greeted him. She then sat down 
 a few paces off on a bench, but so as to turn side- 
 ways towards him, half hid from him by a little 
 bush. Don Diego sat dumb with astonishment. It 
 was indeed Dorothea, no longer dressed in military 
 accoutrements, but in female attire, with her hair 
 bound up and fastened by a silver arrow, from which 
 a long white veil fell waving down her back. One 
 might have beheved that Venus herself had lent her 
 the belt which held her dress together, so graceful 
 was her young and ujDright figure in all its move- 
 ments. As she passed by the Knight, a rosy blush 
 sprung to her cheek, and in a moment she turned 
 towards the ground the eyes which she had hardly 
 raised. She now sat half concealed behind the bush, 
 while the Knight exclaimed from the verandah, 
 " Dorothea, is it really you '? Hide not from me 
 your lovely presence, but come and sit beside your 
 friend. Or, stay ! — I will come down to you." 
 "Kemain where you are," replied the maiden. 
 
120 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 " I have purposely taken my place where you can 
 hear but not see me. I have laid aside my soldier's 
 dress, and put on one suited to my sex. It is no 
 longer your bold tent companion, but a young girl 
 who is talking with you. Hear me, Don Diego, but 
 with indulgence. It is a confession which I have to 
 make to you." 
 
 " Speak," replied the Knight ; and Dorothea began. 
 
 " Don Diego," said she, " when you first entered 
 my father's tent, you must, beyond all question, have 
 observed my surprise. I had just before been warned 
 by an old Mexican Avoman that I should meet on 
 that very day a stranger who would prove my best 
 friend and my worst enemy. My friend was to be a 
 handsome young man, who, according to the descrip- 
 tion which she gave me of him, resembled you in 
 every particular. My enemy was to be an old man 
 who was nearly related to the young man, and ^as, 
 indeed, in attendance on him. "When you stood 
 before me, and I, on comparing your features with 
 
Y).] FLIGHT WITH DOROTHEA. 121 
 
 the description which she had given me, at once 
 recognised the friend, at sight of whom I started, I 
 was seized, on looking at yom- eyes, by a feeling of 
 indescribable horror. You remember that I seized 
 my dagger. On examining your eyes, I fancied that 
 my foe the old man was before me. This flincy 
 lasted but a moment, yet the effect which the double 
 impression produced has continued undiminished 
 during all our intercourse, under all the obstacles 
 and sorrovv^s that you have encountered, amid all 
 the s}Tnpathy and passion that your fate has 
 awakened. You became, in truth, my best friend. 
 My thoughts were ever with you. Your image 
 was ever before me, whether I was awake or 
 whether 1 was dreaming. You became a portion of 
 my breath and being, and my highest hope was that 
 the affection which I felt for you might awaken in 
 your heart reciprocal affection. Very often I fancied 
 that my wish was fulfflled. Yet if accidentally I sat 
 opposite to you, and looked into your eyes, I fancied 
 
122 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 again that I saw the old man, who, through your 
 looks, regarded me with coldness and indifference, 
 and, indeed, at times repulsed me altogether. Thus 
 hope and fear alternated incessantly, and my heart, 
 during our long camp life, was a prey to doubts that 
 were consuming me. Is it not a humiliating con- 
 fession that I am making to you '? But it is on that 
 account that I have 23ut on female apparel, that I 
 might speak to you in this humble strain. Since 
 our flight, and during our whole journey, you have 
 been so kind to me, so full of gentle solicitude, so 
 rehable as a 23rotector, that I no longer need the 
 soldier's mask and dagger, but dare confess myself a 
 woman. Yes, Don Diego, it is your humble atten- 
 dant, a weak girl, your proud foe's helpless daughter, 
 who here appeals to you for protection. For your 
 sake, and in order to find in you the best of friends, 
 I stand forsaken and alone in the world. Stretch 
 out your arms for my protection. Bestow on me a 
 sign of your aflfection, a pledge of your fidelity. I 
 
VI.] FLIGHT WITH DOROTHEA. 123 
 
 have no home on earth, if you disown me, no friend, 
 if you should disappoint me." 
 
 With these words Dorothea stepped forward 
 under the influence of deep emotion, and knelt as 
 a humble suppliant, with extended hands, on the 
 lowest slab of the steps which led up to the ve- 
 randah. 
 
 Don Diego rose in haste and stretched his arms 
 towards the suppliant, that he might lift her up and 
 press her to his heart. At that moment the image 
 of Dona Inez and his past life interposed between 
 him and the maiden. Ag;ain he became conscious 
 of that di\ision in his internal nature, of that 
 antagonism and double form of thought and feel- 
 ing, which on many occasions had caused him to 
 feel that his resolve was destroyed, and his power 
 of action paralysed. His arms hung listless at his 
 side, and he himself, as if thunderstruck, stood 
 motionless with a silent stare, while his looks were 
 riveted on the maiden. 
 
124 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap, vi 
 
 At last he drew a deep sigh, turned away from 
 her, and exclaimed : " You shall hear further from 
 me, Dorothea ! ^' 
 
 He withdrew from her slowly, but Dorothea 
 clasped her hands together over her head, exclaim- 
 ing : " Alas ! alas ! the old man, my worst foe, 
 seemed to stand again before me." 
 
THE 
 
 EOUNTAIN OE YOUTH 
 
 CHAPTER Yir. 
 
 Dorothea emharhs for Santo Domingo, and Don Diego for the Isthmia 
 of Panama — He devotes himself to a HermiVs Life. 
 
CHAPTER YII. 
 
 ON Diego, on finding himself 
 alone, gave free play to 
 his sorrowful, and, we 
 might almost say, desperate 
 thoughts. Scales seemed 
 to fall off" from his eyes. 
 He saw clearly and in a 
 moment his own state. The 
 young man and the old man were united within 
 him in a single existence. The state of his soul 
 
128 THE FOUNTAIX OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 could only be ex]3laiiied with reference to their 
 antagonistic purposes, inclinations, thoughts, and 
 humours. In matters of indifference or of slight 
 moment, so long as he remained passive or tranquil, 
 he did not notice the contradiction. Whenever it 
 came to be a question of actual determination, the 
 division of natm^es was apparent. Then arose 
 that strife of will and feelino; which broug;ht about 
 a sudden annihilation of the powers of action, and 
 reduced him to a state of intellectual and bodily 
 impotence. What had life now left in store for 
 him ? Wliat prospects were now before him for 
 action or for purpose ? Of what avail were youth 
 and beauty, health and streng-th, w^hen the kernel of 
 his existence was destroyed, his energy broken, and 
 ]m j)rosperity reduced to nothingness 1 But another 
 ought not to suffer for his sake ! 
 
 He sat down quickly, and A\Tote a letter to 
 Dorothea, in which he bade her farewell, bequeathed 
 to her all his treasures, and enjoined her without 
 
ViT.] HERMIT LIFE. 129 
 
 delay to go to Santo Domingo witli the ship that was 
 ready to set sail. There she would meet his near 
 relations and friends, with whom she would find 
 consolation in sorrow, help in necessity, and, as he 
 confidently hoped, a happy future. 
 
 Enclosed was a letter to a lady, whose name was 
 Dona Inez de Herrera, with whom she was to take 
 up her abode, and who would make her acquainted 
 with the reasons of his strange conduct, and with 
 the circumstances of his earlier destiny. 
 
 The letter to Dona Inez was to the foUowinor 
 purport : " When you, my beloved wife, receive these 
 lines I shall be far from New Spain, upon a distant 
 and lonely spot, where I propose to make amends 
 for my life's foUy, and where I hope that Heaven in 
 its mercy will forgive my false steps, and blot out 
 their consequences. I have waked up from my dream. 
 I look around me with consternation, and contem- 
 plate myself with horror. In spite of youth, power, 
 and health, I am old, and weak, and ill, and it is 
 
 I 
 
130 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [cHAr. 
 
 only by waiting patiently tliat I can hope to find 
 a cure. When time anew has cooled my blood, 
 whitened my hair, wrinkled my forehead, and 
 divested me of youth's borrowed ornaments, then 
 first will the cleft in my existence be filled up, my 
 mind and my will, now divided, be joined in one. 
 Farewell, my Inez ! when we meet again it will be 
 in forms renewed and young. You have borne with 
 me in jDatience here on earth, and now I must endea- 
 vour to make this virtue my own in the long days of 
 discipline which still lie before me. The young girl 
 by whom this letter will be delivered to you is the 
 preserver of my life, and I am deeply indebted to 
 her. that wife and children would discharge that 
 debt on my account ! that she might find in you 
 a mother, and sisters in Elvira and Isabella ! 
 that Fernando, whom .you so lately called the image 
 of his father, might bestow upon her that happiness 
 which she sought in vain from me.'' 
 
 It was with some degree of satisfaction that Don 
 
VII.] HERMIT LIFE. 131 
 
 Diego, after liavino; delivered his letters, saw tlie 
 ship in the evening set sail for Santo Domingo, 
 bearinof with it the beautiful Dorothea. He himself 
 on the following morning embarked on another ship, 
 destined for the Gulf of Darien and the Isthmus of 
 Panama. 
 
 The representation which the false but gifted 
 Tormado had once made to him respecting these 
 regions, and of the Spaniards' march over the moun- 
 tain ridge of Panama to the silent ocean, filled even 
 now and stirred his soul. He remembered the tale 
 of the hermit who had been abandoned there, and 
 the sole resource now left to him appeared to be to 
 lead a similar life of solitude and expectation. He 
 was entirely occupied with this thought during his 
 short voyage. 
 
 After a rapid and successful transit he landed in 
 the little harbour of Santa Maria, and a few days 
 afterwards, under the conduct of two of the natives, 
 commenced his expedition to the mountains by the 
 
 I 2 
 
132 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chaf. 
 
 route formerly taken by Balboa and liis soldiers. 
 Like him, Don Diego on his journey had encountered 
 innumerable reptiles and serpents. When at length 
 he ascended from the moist swamps to the highlands 
 and mountains, and breathed a purer air, he felt his 
 breast swell with the same anticipations and enthu- 
 siasm which, according to the report of Lorenzo, 
 had taken possession of the hero Balboa when he 
 left his soldiers behind him at the foot of the 
 mountain and ascended its top alone, in order first 
 to enjoy the view to which he had so long looked 
 forward — that southern ocean which he had never 
 seen, but which had been the object of his hopeful 
 anticipations. 
 
 Don Diego was soon standing on the top of the 
 mountain riclge in the same place where Balboa had 
 formerly knelt down and thanked God that he had 
 allowed him to live and look on things so mighty. 
 
 The view was indeed grand and majestic. Around 
 and above him opened the most unbounded prospect 
 
vii.l HERMIT LIFE. 133 
 
 that could be conceived, stretching far away into the 
 clear ethereal blue. To the north and to the south 
 extended a chain of snow-capped mountain-peaks, 
 while far down in the depths below he beheld the 
 interminable and sunlit ocean whose billows moved 
 in gentle measmT. The Knight's heart was filled at 
 the same time with amazement and sorrow. With 
 amazement at the grand and elevating prospect — 
 with sorrow when the thought came over him of his 
 shipwrecked hopes and, so to speak, lost life. The 
 achievements which he had dreamed of were achieve- 
 ments such as those of Balboa, of Cortez, and of 
 Columbus ; but the dream had never become a 
 reality. Destiny had pronounced its sentence. 
 Not many steps off' lay the end of his life's 
 wanderings — the hermit's hut, which he now 
 entered after having remunerated and dismissed his 
 guides. 
 
 In the hut he found the same monk whom Tor- 
 mado had described — an old Franciscan, who re- 
 
134 THE FOUXTAIX OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 ceived tlie Knight witli great friendliness, offered 
 him refreshment in the shape of a frugal meal, and 
 inquii'ed of him the cause of his mountain wander- 
 ings. The Knight told him that his object was to 
 iDuild a hut like his on the top of the mountain, and 
 in that hut to lead, like him, a hermit's life. The 
 monk started, shook his head, and exclaimed : 
 "No, my young friend, a life of solitude and in- 
 action such as mine is little suited for your age. 
 What will you gain by it '? " 
 
 '' What you yourself have gained," replied Don 
 Diego — "white hair and wrmkled cheeks, a bent 
 neck and trembling limbs — death's heralds, the 
 glorious gifts of time.'^ 
 
 The Franciscan looked at him with astonishment, 
 and the Knight continued : 
 
 " No doubt you view my conduct in this light. 
 Perhaps my words sound strangely in your ears. 
 They appear, perhaps, to you to proceed from a 
 madman. But you are mistaken. It is an un 
 
DON DIirGO PROPOSKS TO .TOIN THE IIP-RMIT. 
 
 'page 134. 
 
VII.] HERMIT LIFE. 135 
 
 liapj^y man that speaks with you — a man who is 
 flying from despair." 
 
 Don Diego paused for a short time and then com- 
 menced the tale of his past life. His sighs frequently 
 interrupted him, and the Franciscan listened with 
 sympathy and attention. 
 
 When the Knight, under the influence of deep 
 emotion, had ended his tale, the monk seized him 
 by the hand, exclaiming, ^' Be a man ! Do not give 
 way to despair. I see from your life's history that 
 you are of the number of those whom Providence 
 sets up as examples in this world. I now approve 
 entirely of your resolve to devote yourself to pious 
 meditations, and let the stream of time roll by until 
 you have consumed your youth and won your old 
 age back. Then will your heart's banished peace 
 return. Come, let us look out a place for you to 
 dwell in." 
 
 With these words the Hermit led his guest out on 
 the open ground, and after a brief search they found. 
 
136 THE FOUXTAIX OF YOUTH. [chap. vir. 
 
 a short way from the hut, a solitary s]3ot, which 
 seemed well suited for their purpose. The next day 
 Don Diego set his hand to the work, and commenced 
 the foundations of his future habitation, which 
 might in truth be said to be built upon a rock. 
 
 Within a month the hut was ready — two domestic 
 animals had been procm^d, the little garden had 
 been laid out and sown, and all the preparations for 
 a long and solitary life had been completed. Inside 
 it, on the table in a little chamber, might be seen a 
 crucifix and a few books. Outside, under a tree, 
 there was a bench, from which a most extensive 
 prospect might be obtained over hill and dale, and 
 sky and sea. It was here that the new hermit chose 
 for the first time his place of rest, when the evening 
 sun, surrounded by all the splendours of a tropical 
 sky, was descending gently into the sea. Here he 
 daily took his seat with the image of God's omni- 
 potence spread out before him, while God's wisdom 
 grew daily in his heart. 
 
THE 
 
 POUNTAIN OE YOUTH. 
 
 CHAPTER Vin. 
 
 The Hermit's Life and Death. 
 
CHAPTER VITI. 
 
 n^nniE rolled on over the 
 
 I 
 
 ^ hermit's life on ^vhich 
 
 Don Diego had now 
 entered, and in its 
 course brought some 
 fruits with it. By de- 
 o'rees the storms and 
 tumults of his heart sub- 
 sided, and as he looked 
 out over the world from the rocky summit near 
 which he had fixed his dwelling, he learnt to reflect 
 
140 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [ciiap 
 
 on his past life with sentiments of elevation and 
 repose. Both in silent contemplation and in con- 
 verse with the ao'ed hermit who dwelt near him, 
 his thoughts expanded more and more to a percep- 
 tion of the Creator's purposes with reference to this 
 changeful world and to the order instituted for the 
 benefit of creation.'' He now not only recognised 
 goodness and beauty in the forms which time 
 measures, in youth and age, in growth and de- 
 velopment, in bloom and decay ; but found the same 
 varying forms of existence, the laws of the self-same 
 wisdom, operating within his soul and filling him 
 with hopes at one time, w^ith recollections at another. 
 In this way his spirit was led on through the vary- 
 ing phenomena of time to the contemplation of that 
 w^hich is unchano-ino; and eternal. To this he dedi- 
 cated his soul. It occujiied all the hours and days 
 of his long apprenticeship. 
 
 But how was he to measure and reckon up these 
 days in a life which was uniform and hardly inter- 
 
^'"iJ DEATH OF DON DIEGO. 141 
 
 rupted by any external incidents ! He had never 
 been able entirely to sui3press bis inclination to 
 carry into action the purpose which had been a 
 moving power within. The first day after his 
 arrival on the mountain top he had discovered at 
 some distance from the hermitage a stony waste, on 
 which numberless stones of all conceivable forms 
 and dimensions lay scattered and spread out around. 
 By means of these stones he determined to measure 
 time, by laying day by day stone upon stone. He 
 thought that at the same time he might make them 
 minister to his desire for active occupation, by de- 
 positing them in layers, and by means of these 
 granite layers constructing entire pyramids, one of 
 which was to be completed every year, and would 
 contain just so many stones as there were days in 
 the year. It was his regular though wearisome task 
 to erect these fabrics of stone, to construct them 
 on suitable spots where they might strike the eye, 
 to give them different shapes and elevations, and 
 
142 THE FOUNT AIN OF YOUTH. [cHAr. 
 
 to let them all serve as an enclosure of a suggestive 
 character for the hut from Avliich he looked out 
 on the world around, and was led on seeing 
 the motionless hills of stone to reflect on the 
 years which lay behind him and on his fleeting 
 life. 
 
 So time ran on — day followed day — year followed 
 year — stone was laid on stone — pyramid rose up 
 after pyramid, and one historical event succeeded 
 another. The gold-land was discovered, Peru was 
 conquered, the world was sailed round, and still 
 Don Diego remained on the rock and there pur- 
 sued his silent meditations. Time rolled on, yet 
 not without lea^ang traces that marked its jDrogress. 
 Even on these lonely summits Time could make its 
 rights prevail. The old hermit who dwelt near him 
 died. In his hut a young monk of the same order 
 was dwelling. The Knight found fresh and youth- 
 ful companionshiji — but he was now himself so far 
 advanced in years that he had in turn to play the 
 
vrii.] DEATH OF DOX DIEGO. U3 
 
 part of instructor and guide to his more youthful 
 companion. 
 
 Another work of Time which went on silently and 
 without intermission was the gradual breaking up 
 of conflicting elements within him. That internal 
 discord which dated from his bath in the Fountain 
 of Youth, and had since prevailed uninterruptedly, by 
 degrees grew less and less perceptible. The more his 
 bodily strength diminished, the more his youthful 
 form advanced to that of manhood and old age. It 
 seemed as though in his inner life difficulties were 
 disappearing and billows subsiding one after another, 
 while in the place of internal storms and tumults. 
 Peace, like some calm crystal sea, spread repose over 
 his whole existence. 
 
 In this manner years glided a^'a}'. As water drop 
 by drop hollo avs a stone, so during the long and 
 monotonous life which he led the sentiments which 
 Eternity, time's mighty lever, inspires, by degrees 
 pervaded his whole existence. He led a life of ex- 
 
H4 THE FOUNTAIN OF YOUTH. [chap. 
 
 pectation. All he hoped and all he longed for was 
 the return of that age from which he had fled. His 
 hope's fulfilment had arrived. By waiting un- 
 weariedly and patiently he had obtained his end. 
 Snow-white locks again surrounded his sunken 
 cheeks and honoured head. A long white beard 
 curled out over his breast. His high clear forehead 
 rose over his calm and dreamy eyes, an image of 
 the peace which reigned within. 
 
 He stood one morning early in his bro'wn monk's 
 hood before the door of his hut, and was looking out 
 over the mass of surrounding stoneheaps mth which 
 he had marked each year as it rolled away. He 
 seemed to be counting them, for his eye dwelt upon 
 each, and then with a sorrowful expression seemed to 
 turn towards Heaven, earth, air, and sea. Notwith- 
 standing the wide space which smTounded him, he 
 sighed deeply, like a prisoner in his narrow cell. His 
 look rose slowly and followed for some time the light 
 red clouds which were gliding along the sky over the 
 
^'^"^^0^^. 
 
 DEATH OP" DON DIEGO. 
 
 //ajfc 14; 
 
VIII.] DEATH OF DON DIEGO. 145 
 
 heads of a flock of birds which were passing by him 
 and flying homewards to their nests. His heart 
 appeared to be seized suddenly by an endless 
 longing after that eternal youth in which soul and 
 body should alike participate — in which all should 
 be again united without fear of further separation. 
 With outstretched arms he hastened forwards 
 ' to the mountain path, vvdiich ran close by his 
 neighbour's hut. The young hermit was standing 
 at the door and asked him what he was running 
 for. 
 
 '' Dost thou not see the Angel of Death 1 " replied 
 the old man, while beams brightened on his counte- 
 nance as he spoke; "dost thou not see his raised 
 * wings and outstretched arms '? " 
 
 He passed the monk with hurried steps, and then 
 ran on further to the path. On a sudden he stopped, 
 ai^if some one had laid hold of him, bent backwards, 
 and fell gently on the ground. The hermit hastened 
 to help him, but found him already dead. He was 
 
 K 
 
146 THE FOIIXTAIX OF YOUTH. [chav. 
 
 resting on his back, his eyes were closed, and a smile 
 still lingered on his lips. 
 
 The youno' hermit carried the old man back 
 to his hilt, and there learnt, from the papers and 
 the notes which Don Diego had left behind him, 
 the particulars of his family name, his race, and 
 destiny. 
 
 The monk, a short time afterwards, caused the 
 body to be conveyed to the coast, and thence by 
 ship to Santo Domingo. There it was received 
 on its arrival l)y the children and grandchildren 
 of the beautiful Dorothea, who caused it to be 
 deposited in the cathedral church by the side 
 of Dona Inez, who had long been dead, directly 
 opposite the monument which contained the re- 
 mains of the great Columbus. 
 
 At the close of the preceding century the Knight's 
 •monument, a black marble sarcophagus, might still 
 be seen in the church, but has since been destroyed 
 durino' the numerous intestine broils of which the 
 
viii.] DEATH OF DOX DIEGO. 147 
 
 island has been the theatre. The Latin inscription 
 which it bore may be transhited as follows : — 
 
 Pause, Traveller, before this Sarcophagus, 
 
 In vvbich are deposited the Eemains of 
 
 The brave and far-fiimed Knight 
 
 DOX DIEGO DE HEEEEEA. 
 
 "Who during his long life on Earth was twice a Young Man 
 
 And twice an Old Man ; 
 
 But first, as a Hermit, learnt to appreciate the workings of Providence. 
 
 To his long suffering, to his great patience, and energetic spirit, 
 
 Bear witness high up on the Mountain 
 
 Fifty stone Pyramids which he built, 
 
 The work of his solitarv life. 
 
 A grateful and surviving Family, 
 "Which from his misfortune derived "Wealth and 'V^^isdom, 
 Have raised this Monument to his memory. 
 
 K 2 
 
LONDON : 
 CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS, 
 BREAD STREET HILL. 
 
ALICE'S ADVENTURES IN WONDERLAND: 
 
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